I spent my childhood in the enchanting countryside, surrounded by donkeys, mules, and horses. My proficiency in riding was such that I earned the privilege of training these magnificent animals. However, not every tale from those days unfolded smoothly, as the following incident illustrates.
Growing up in a bustling household with my parents,
grandparents, and skilled horseman uncle, equestrian performances, known as
Tbourida, were a regular feature during celebrations like weddings, festivals,
and competitions. Our stable housed a variety of splendid horse breeds, born
from our mares and expertly trained at home, primarily by my uncle, who had a
profound love for these majestic creatures.
One day, we welcomed a striking black Barb pony into our
midst. My uncle, seizing the opportunity, showcased the pony's debut at a
fantasia performance during a neighbor's wedding, marking the beginning of its
training journey. After a day of spirited galloping, my uncle entrusted me with
the task of riding the tired and calm pony back home. I succeeded, proud of
handling an untrained pony, and expressed my eagerness to gentle it the next
day.
The night preceding the anticipated event was sleepless,
fueled by thoughts of proving my maturity to everyone. The following morning,
after a hearty breakfast, my uncle saddled the horse, attached the spurs, and
hoisted me onto its back. These horses, known for their fiery nature and
sensitivity under the saddle, responded to the slightest cues.
Upon mounting, I felt the pony's shudders but hesitated to
convey my unease. A few steps later, I unintentionally jabbed the excited
animal with my spurs, triggering a rapid gallop that almost threw me off. My
uncle's calls to pull the bridle were futile, and I found myself in a fast,
uncontrollable ride.
Fearing the worst – a potential fall into a well or abyss,
or a collision with the looming fig trees – panic set in. I attempted to
redirect the horse up the mountain but it refused to heed my pulling. Left with
no other choice, I made a split-second decision. I leaned to the left, removed
my feet from the stirrups, and leaped to the ground.
Upon regaining consciousness, pain coursed through my entire
body. Bruised, swollen, and cut, I spent the next fortnight under my grandmother's
care. Her expertise in healing involved massages, warm washcloths, and various
herbal concoctions.
Despite the setback, I wholeheartedly agree with Rolf
Kopfle's sentiment: “There are many wonderful places in the world, but one of
my favorite places is on the back of my horse.' This rings true, for as the
legendary American cowboy and actor Roy Rogers wisely said, 'If you tumble off
a horse, the only way forward is to rise again. I'm no quitter.' Life's mishaps
are but fleeting moments. So we need to embrace the lessons they bring, rise
resiliently, and ride forward with a renewed determination to savor the journey
ahead.
3 comments:
A vivid memory illustrating perfectly the saying, " Nothing ventured nothing gained."Consequently, you grew in resilience as you rightly said and you are here to tell the tale and give us food for inspiration.
Thank you so much for this insightful post 🙏
Thanks Noureddine for one more pleasant post(memory) to read.
I used to (and I still do) like animals; I was not that keen on riding horses though, unless it was for utilitarian purposes: running errands or, otherwise, helping with the farm work. That also had something to do with my personality trait: I was a bit too cautious, and, therefore, I never accepted the mishap of getting hurt or having a scar on my body.
I had a story a bit like yours with the differense that, and I still wonder how that happened, I didn't fall off the back of that extraordinary strong horse of Khali Ali, my aunt Khadija's husband (may God bless their souls!)
My late father and mother were busy preparing a family celebration, and Khali Ali volunteered to take my brother and myself to the village to have a hair cut. He had to run errands of his own, too. We were hoisted on the saddled back of one his mules; he rode his (on that occasion) unsaddled horse. It was on our way to the village (القشلة) it was alternatively called. On the journey back home, he had the idea of letting me get on the horse back; he meant it to be a favour for me. I could have been around 7 years old, and I really looked not more than a tiny "thing" on the back of the greyish well-fed, well taken care of horse. At the very beginning of the journey, the horse advanced in a regular trod, and a slow enough pace. Soon afterwards, it started to galop at a clearly fast pace; then, it really started to race. I panicked and felt really horrified; I tried to make use of whatever strength I had to make the horse go less quickly by pulling on the briddle. I knew it was a helpless attempt. To tell the truth, It crossed my mind, each second and each minute, to jump off the back of that uncontrollable (kind horse); I was just hesitating about the timing and the place where I would let everything go. You well know that animals (cats, dogs, mules, donkeys) have the instinct of returning to the place where they are bred, fed, and taken care of. Khali Ali's horse was no exception; it was doing that race maybe because it was in hurry to be in the stable where it was given food warmth, and compnionship. The village was about 5 kilometres from where we lived, but it was an eternity for me that day. The kind greyish horse was only givig me a free ride back home, but I really wasn't calm and courageous enough to appreciate that; the idea that haunted me then was that it was racing because it didn't want me on his back. I got home safely once the horse stopped at the entrance of uncle Ali's stable. It was my cousin who helped get off its back; I breathed a sigh of relief, but my pale face and my shivering body were unmistakable infications that my trip back from the village was no heroic achievement. I was really happy and fortunate to have escaped a tragic and catastrophic event.
Thank you, SSi Hamid, for your encouragement and the time you dedicated to reading all of my posts.
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