When you meet a horse called Star and he has a star on your forehead, and your company is called Star: Leo – you just ask that horse to come live with you. And because horses love company – he comes over with another buddy called Billy.
Leaving Pumpkin was a heartbreak. But he is not my horse. Star and Billy are mine. My husband went to great lengths to get them for me. They are geldings so I hope they’ll get along well. We see when they come home, probably on Thursday.
Stables are finished, well, nearly. Plastering going on, full speed. Room for the groom is plastered and drying. My tack room come pharmacy come office is also plastered. I think I’ll be painting the primer tomorrow or Monday. Depends on the drying of the plaster. I’ll also varnish the horse enclosures. I have three – just in case a guest horse comes for a sleepover. You never know.
Where I come from, we always have a spare stall for a horse. Exactly for that reason – if a traveler arrives late at night at your doorstep and his horse needs rest, food and water. So two horses, three stalls. It’s a sign of a good home upbringing.
My life will change. I know this. It will probably halve my time in Kampala. Kampala doesn’t quite cut it for me any more, anyway. Too busy, too hectic, too much time wasted on too many unnecessary things.
Next week, this time, I’ll be driving to work after a horse ride. I’ll get up at six, be on horse back by 6.30 and look at the sunrise through the steam coming out of horse’s nostrils. That is the life I’m used to. The life that wakes you up, throws you on, gives you challenges and control at the same time, forces you to build bonds with unexpected allies, makes you understand that others entirely rely on you for judgment and leadership, gives you power to rule by the soft movement of your fists clenching the reins.
When you look up, the sun is rising and you have already been empowered so much that the rest of the day is just a simple ride. Pure, unspoiled, beautiful balance of soul. Can’t wait.