Ride for donkeys: A journey on two wheels and the heart of a nation

By Dr. Brian Irungu

I’ve always loved biking. The roar of an engine, the vibration under your hands, the way a bike demands focus and respect; it is a kind of happiness that hits you in the chest. I’m also a veterinarian, a job that keeps me close to animals and the communities that depend on them, sometimes rewarding, sometimes heartbreaking.

On that early December morning in Nairobi, as Rafiki, my bike, growled to life, I realized that my two passions could meet on the road. Biking gave me speed, reach, and presence. Veterinary medicine gave me purpose. Saving donkeys might just require throttle as much as heart. Rafiki isn’t just steel and rubber. Rafiki has personality, presence, and purpose. Every mile we rode could be advocacy, every turn a message, every roar a call to protect the animals that carry communities.

This wasn’t a joyride. This was a mission. The illegal bush slaughter of donkeys had reached levels that could no longer be ignored. Communities were losing their animals, livelihoods were at risk, and unregulated meat was threatening to spread zoonotic diseases, those diseases that can be transmitted from animals to humans, posing significant public health risks worldwide. My goal was simple yet ambitious: to crisscross 39 counties, cover 4,495 kilometres, and take the message of ‘Nyama Safe Kwa Plate’ as far as it could go.

It was about alerting communities, engaging law enforcement, and reminding every Kenyan that donkeys are not just animals, they are lifelines. That morning, 20th December 2025, we were flagged off by friends, colleagues, and fellow donkey lovers. Maureen, a friend of mine, rode beside me. We didn’t know it yet, but this ride would take us to the farthest corners of the country, into the heart of a crisis that too many prefer to ignore.

Donkeys are more than animals

Most people see donkeys as beasts of burden. True. But they are also livelihoods, culture, and survival. They are the backbone of families who rely on them to carry water, firewood, produce, and hope. And yet, they are under siege. Global demand for donkey skins has become a monster. Ejiao, a Chinese medicine product, turns hides into elixirs of beauty, and Kenya has become one of its unwilling suppliers. Bush slaughter has risen, donkey meat is repackaged as beef, and uninspected meat enters our markets, creating serious public health risks.

From Nairobi to Murang’a, Kirinyaga, Embu, Tharaka Nithi, Meru, Isiolo, and beyond, I saw donkeys everywhere. Some were hauling water, some carrying firewood, some just resting under the sun. Everywhere I looked, I saw the risk. In Samburu and Marsabit, the dirt roads would have broken lesser spirits, but the communities there owned donkeys like family. One man told me his four homesteads collectively owned nearly one hundred donkeys. Donkeys are not just animals here; they are wealth, culture, and survival, and they are under threat.

Turkana: Where culture meets commerce

In Turkana, culture and commerce collided in the harshest way. Locals have traditions around donkey slaughter, but foreign demand for skins has warped this into something ugly. Skins fetch more than meat, so donkeys die even when the community doesn’t need the meat. I visited a slaughter point, though thankfully it was quiet for the festive season. It was hard to watch, but it was also clear why advocacy cannot wait.

People often ask me why I care so much about donkeys. My answer is simple: when donkeys suffer, people suffer too. Families lose transport, income, and time. Children carry heavier loads. Women walk further for water. Communities lose resilience. Losing a donkey can cut household income by more than 70 percent in some regions. Protecting donkeys should be a priority.

Advocacy on the road

Along the ride, we engaged police officers, donkey owners, and communities. We explained laws like the Meat Control Act, CAP 356, and the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act, CAP 360. We walked officers through what illegal donkey transport looks like. We gave communities practical tips on how to safeguard their animals.

The ride was not easy. There were two bike breakdowns, and security risks that forced us to reroute multiple times. But every challenge reinforced the importance of the work. The requests from local communities were simple: “Can you bring veterinary care here? Can you stay longer?”

Why policy alone isn’t enough

Policy alone will not save donkeys. Laws without enforcement are just words. We need vigilant enforcement along trade and transport routes, structured veterinary outreach programs in remote counties, and community awareness that elevates donkeys from tools to partners.

Creative advocacy, rides, marathons, competitions, local awards can make people value their donkeys as much as I do.

When I rode Rafiki, I thought it was about motorcycles, speed, and adventure. It wasn’t. It was about donkeys. It was about people. It was about protecting a way of life. Every kilometre reminded me that welfare is not a sentimental add-on. It is the foundation for human dignity. Every donkey we save is a community protected. Every community we strengthen is a reason to ride further, speak louder, and fight harder.

So here’s my plea to every reader who thinks this isn’t their fight: it is. When donkeys are stolen, slaughtered, and silenced, we lose more than animals. We lose food security, livelihoods, dignity, and resilience. This is not a niche issue. It is a national one. It is a human one. Saving donkeys isn’t sentimental. It is survival. And it starts with us.

[The writer is a veterinarian who was awarded ‘Youngest Vet of the Year’ in 2025. He is also an avid adventure rider and serves as an Animal Welfare Officer at Brooke East Africa.]