It happened once upon a time that Mullah Nasruddin needed to go to another village on some business.  As it was a long way, the Mullah asked a neighbour if he could borrow his donkey for the journey.

“You are welcome,” said the neighbour, “but I warn you, this donkey is difficult.  He scarcely obeys me, his owner, and I don’t know how he will be with a stranger.”

The Mullah made a dismissive gesture.  “By the grace of God, I understand animals,” he said wisely.  “It is only a matter of communication.  When spirit speaks to spirit, there result can only be perfect harmony.”  And with that, he climbed onto the donkey and set off.

The donkey, however, was both stubborn and high-spirited.  Instead of following the Mullah’s urging, it wheeled around and set off in the opposite direction.  Soon, it was galloping wildly along the road, with Nasruddin, beard and robe blowing in the wind, holding on for his life.

Someone, seeing the Mullah ride by and thinking there was some emergency, shouted, “Mullah, where are you going?”

“I have no idea,” called the Mullah.  “The donkey hasn’t told me!”