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Friday, July 23, 2010

No Title

Post dated from July 21st, 2010

I write this as a man rides up on a motorcycle and stops just in front of our gate, gets off of the bike and goes to answer his phone. He walks up and opens the gate carrying a carta intended for the Mrs. He must be a personal courier of some kind.

Then I received a message from Francisco saying that he had spoken with the director at my school and that he had explained to her that he will be finishing his dealings with MEDUCA in the morning. He will send two copies to me, one for her and the other for the regional director of MEDUCA in Chitre.

Now that that has been said,
Is it a sign that it is hot when the dog is taking a nap behind the curtain in the outdoor shower because it’s cooler than anywhere else? I think yes.

I’ve learned a lot in the last couple of days. I learned that its not the smartest idea to ride a horse with balls. It will try to fuck you up. Guaranteed. Seriously, I went to Tika’s house yesterday morning to try to ride his horse. He wasn’t there at the time, but his wife told me three or four times that it was “bien bravo” and she asked me if I knew how to manage a horse. I said yes I knew how and I proceeded to saddle and harness it.

As soon as we were out past the fence, the damn thing took off galloping at full speed. Tika’s wife had warned me that he liked to rear so I was patient with him and didn’t pull back too hard on the reins. Eventually, I would do everything short of try to choke him with the damn things. He just wouldn’t stop. It was all I could do to try and keep him in the middle of the road. At one point, he took me up against a barbed wire fence to try and known me off. I was too stubborn for that so he put me up against a bunch of trees and low hanging branches. Finally he was a bit worn out and I managed to stop him in the middle of the road heading toward the river. I got off of him and turned him around. I mounted him again and no sooner had I gotten my second foot in the stirrup than he tore off again, this time up the path heading toward the church. Safire the horse and I scared a woman and her son to death as we raced up the path, pressing both of them against a barbed wire fence. By the time we got to the main road once again, Safire was at a full gallop, this time on pavement. I managed to turn him back toward Tika’s house just in time to completely startle a gray mare with a 45 year old man riding her. With a startled, concerned look on his face the owner calmed her before she got the chance to rear.

Safire and I had blown by, my hands getting caught in the tangled mess of mane, reins, and lead rope that I had wantonly left draped to the side; my right foot at one point coming free of the stirrup. In a blur we had missed the entrance to Tika’s house, and without a firm grip on reins, ni stirrup, I held on, gripping the horse’s sides with my knees while my pelvis moved to the three gated rhythm of a horse in full stride.

Finally, just before he was about to put me into another barbed wire fence, I was able to untie my hands, grab the reins, and pull Safire to a dead stop. He was very angry with me, chomping at the bit, shaking his dirty mane, and snorting in defiance. I climbed off of him once more, turned him around, and walked him back to the house, where Tika’s wife was waiting. “What do you call a horse that’s not quite broken yet?” she asked. “Dangerous,” I replied.

It was the talk of the town for a majority of the next two days. Tika’s wife would say, “Tika tried to tell him that he was a bit dangerous (which he did not I swear) but he still wanted to ride him. So there, now he’s ridden him and he knows better.” Okay, so maybe she didn’t say it in that many words, but that is certainly the message that she meant.

When asking about the cuts on my face and why I was walking funny, the teachers at the school, my colleagues, would say, “and the students said ‘there goes Ryan on the horse running! Did you see him!?’” Half the town saw me while it was happening, and the other half was in general agreement as Monday morning quarterbacks that next time I should take a female. They’re calmer. And I probably shouldn’t go by myself.

Thanks guys.

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