FEI and the impact of outsider eyes....

I spent the morning on Sunday at Jamhuri Park watching and photographing Kenya's participants in the 2009 FEI (that's Federation Equestre Internationale) World Dressage Challenge.

It was a beautiful sunny day for a change, and the horses were positively gleaming, as were the competitors in their bright white dressage jods. (Usually I think to myself, "White for horseback riding, how silly is that?" but yesterday I had to acknowledge it really does look sharp).

The Challenge is designed to "promote and expand horse riding skills in developing countries throughout the world". This year, 59 countries are taking part.

What happens is that experienced FEI international judges travel to the countries involved to judge the dressage tests. The next day, the top riders also benefit from a clinic with the international judges to review their performances and work on weaknesses. Kenya competes with other countries in the challenge through its national team score from the day. The same judges travel to the other countries in our zone to judge their horses and riders performing the exact same tests.

For an interested but not very accomplished dressage newbie like myself, it was great to see some of Kenya's best riders and horses putting forth their top effort. The atmosphere was very different from the usual "one big family" Kenyan horse show feeling. Fewer loose dogs, for one thing. Even the resident Jamhuri Park monkeys were making themselves scarce. The hadada ibises, however, will always be with us...fortunately Kenyan horses and ponies treat them with the lack of attention they deserve despite the horrible racket they make.


Instead, there was a clear feeling that everyone was -- slightly nervously -- putting on their Sunday best for the visitors "from away."

"We are to be taken seriously!" was part of the vibe. "Aren't we????" was the other part. And it made me think what an island the Kenyan world of horses and riders is, how despite itself this world bridles a bit defensively when scrutinized by the sleekly tailored representatives of Europe (Judge Bo Ahman from Sweden, in the awesome pink tie) and South Africa (Judge Sharon Rhode).

Clearly, it's not easy to ride to an international standard when you cannot truly compete internationally. But the effort seems to pay off...with riders ending the day talking about what they needed to do better (shorten their reins, for one thing), and planning for ways to intensify their training.

Going on a horse safari? Don't forget the condoms....

I've just sent in my deposit for a horse safari on the coast of South Africa in October. It will be a five-day trail, me and J2 and one or two other friends. We did a similar safari last October, and thinking about heading out again has made me remember what a great experience it was.

I did things I had never done before...gallop on the beach, ride a funky African ferry with the horses (see photo above), swim a river on horseback. It was the swimming a river that inspired the title for today's post. Our trail guide (see photo below, he's the one without the hat) told us the day before that the best way to keep our cell phones dry would be to put them each in a condom. And that evening after dinner he handed round those embarrassing little foil packets (instead of mints?).

We noticed that these were the lubricated kind. So we each spent a few minutes that evening washing our condoms, then hung them, like tiny Christmas stockings, over the towel rail in the bathroom to dry.

I can say that it is not always easy to get a cell phone to go willingly into a condom. But I can also say that everyone's cell phone survived the river dry and cozy. It really is an awesome tip, especially if your phone is not a flip phone, because not only does it stay dry, but the condom does not interfere with you using your phone, except perhaps psychologically.

This year's trail is taking us to the whale coast. In addition to our group from Kenya, we've learned that one other woman is joining us...a 29-year-old endurance rider.

Since J2 and I between us count well over a century of years, this is a slightly intimidating prospect. So this afternoon's hack was the start of our campaign to get ready to out-endure this unknown youngster and uphold the honor of the older rider... 2-1/2 hours with tons of trot work.

J. has a fantastic power trot, but she would always rather gallop (well, who wouldn't?), so keeping her at the trot was my fabulous upper-body workout for the day, and staying at the trot was HER fabulous gluteus maximus workout for the day, and by the end of it I was ready to fall into a glass of wine. She probably was too.

Killer Avocados!

The avocados are out to get us.

J. and I were having our weekly lesson with R. this morning. It's supposed to be a jumping lesson, but J. was having issues with her brakes so instead we were doing a lot of canter circles, canter-trot-walk transition, walk-canter transitions...all the stuff you do when it is mostly about getting your horse to listen to you instead of the gremlins. All going pretty well...until a gust of wind brought down about a half-dozen avocados all around us. None of them actually hit us. But it was a scary moment. These are big avocados, and they do have the equivalent of a golf ball in the middle after all.

So then it was time to dance a little.

I'm sure J. got her own back later today and ate them all.

We're thinking about entering the Agricultural Society of Kenya horse show, the weekend of Oct. 1 to Oct. 4. This is one I have never entered before. Because it takes place in conjunction with the annual ASK agricultural fair, it has a reputation of being a bit chaotic.

After all, not every horse can keep his or her head while the Kenyan police are doing their sharpshooting demonstration within earshot. On the other hand, we're getting good practice with the avocado attacks.

Census Strangeness

Tomorrow is a holiday in Kenya. It's one of those strange, stealth holidays that just pop up because President Kibaki says "Make it so." (My favorite was Obama Day...the day after the U.S. election. I thought it was weird and wonderful that I had a holiday here in Kenya to celebrate Obama's historic victory, while it was business as usual in the U.S.)

This one is prompted by the start of Kenya's decennial census, a week-long exercise in counting Kenyans and gathering household data. The census started this evening at 6, and all the bars in the country have been ordered to close early so people get home.

There is a lot of anxiety about the census. For one thing, enumerators will be asking people to identify their tribe, which is a vexed question here, especially after the post-election violence of 2007/2008. For another, people don't like to open their doors to strangers at night!

I went grocery shopping and the supermarket was packed. People seemed to be stocking up, and the mood seemed poised between "getting ready to party" and "getting ready for Hurricane Hilda".

We'll see. I was hoping to take advantage and trailer J. up to Tigoni for a long, long ride in the gorgeous tea, but my riding buddy J2 has other plans. So I'll stick to plan A, my regular dressage lesson, and hope that the census is peaceful and successful.

Nice Butt!

OK, yes, that's a rude title.

But after hearing trainer after trainer go on and on over and over again about making our horses engage their hindquarters, and struggling at every stride to make them do it, isn't it nice to finally see and feel some results?

With J., what I'm feeling is a really nice forward walking stride without having to squeeze, cluck or tap every two seconds, more spring in her canter...and what I'm seeing is a really nice butt. Don't you think?

We had our first lesson in ages with R., who helps us with our jumping. It was great -- surprisingly so, considering what a b-tch J. has been out on our hacks recently. She was listening, picking up her right canter lead without trouble, going from walk to canter without a fuss, extending and collecting...

We didn't do any jumping, we just cantered over a little pole. This is an exercise that can make J. quite nervous, but the more often we do it, the more calmly she takes it. My hope is that one day she'll stop shutting her eyes for the scary bits...

Wednesday already?

How did that happen? There I was, enjoying my Sunday...and here I am, looking at a Wednesday afternoon.

Tomorrow I'll have a jumping lesson with R. It feels like a long time since the last one...I did take J. over a tiny little vertical last week, just to get over the psychological hump. I set up an exercise from Practical Horseman, adapted to our boma, which is quite small. I set up two ground poles on the long side of the boma separated by a slightly long five-stride distance, then a turn to a small jump with a ground pole 9 feet in front and another 10 feet behind.

The idea was to have J. canter the ground poles in five strides -- therefore going at a good forward pace -- then come around the corner to the jump. The exercise requires me to apply some gentle brakes to J.'s canter, and the pole 9 fee out requires J. to take off less than 9 feet from in front of the jump.

This is an excellent theory, and I thought it would be a cinch for J. I wanted to start our re-introduction to jumping with something that would make her feel calm, successful, and in control...

Not so much.

I was prepared for the possibility of her taking off from the far side of the pole, turning a little vertical into an Olympic long-jump. I was prepared for her to take off too close and chip the jump. But I really couldn't imagine another way to mess it up.

There is, though. It takes a combination of athleticism and wrong-headedness that not every horse has at his or her command. But J. managed it... taking off after planting her rear hooves ON TOP of the pole.

The feeling of the pole rolling out from under her hooves as she left the ground was, I think, a bit unnerving. A lot of tail swishing, ears back, head shaking. So we did it again, and this time I tried my favorite calming trick. I learned this from a trainer who only had time to give me one lesson before she left Kenya, but that one lesson just keeps on giving. The trick is simple: sing a completely idiotic, totally rhythmic song while riding the jumps.

(Our song is "The Itsy Bitsy Spider.")

It always makes me feel a fool, and yet it always takes up just enough of the part of my brain that worries and makes J. nervous that it settles us both right down. Try it!

We did, and the second try was perfect (mostly).

Riding Schedule, Ideal Version

It's been a great week for riding, if not for ideal horse behavior. Dressage lesson on Tuesday (Discouraging! Amazing how much we have both forgotten in just two months...), arena work and a few small jumps on Wednesday, day off Thursday, hacks on Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Today's hack was particularly fine...My friend J. and I like to combine some bird-watching with our riding, and this afternoon, we saw a secretary bird. These are wonderful birds, a compelling combination of fierce and ridiculous. "A large bird, usually in pairs, hunting on foot with measured gate," according to my bird-bible Zimmerman.

This coming week, I'll try to slot in a weekly jumping lesson with R. from next door. He's a good teacher and J. likes him.

The first time we had a lesson together felt, at least for a few minutes, like a transcendent breakthrough. J. and I seemed to in synch to an amazing degree, proof at last that cross-species psychic communion is possible...

Sadly, I was deluded. It turned out that R. had trained J. when she was just emerging from her short, unhappy polo career. So she wasn't responding to some infinitisimal signal direct from my brain to hers - but to R.'s commands. It helps that he has a very particular way of calling out instructions..."Tuhhh---ROT" "Ahhnda ha-ALT."

Since then, R and I have worked out a code for our lessons, one that J hasn't cracked yet. I don't get that push-button response anymore, but at least I know the response I get is honestly earned.

Once we've found a time for our weekly jumping lesson, I'll have the outlines of my ideal riding schedule all set. Then comes the hard part, which is actually carrying out all of the elements of the schedule. Rain. Doctor's appointments. Plumbers. The list of things that can and will interfere is endless.

Now it really begins...

I consider this week to mark the official start of my "horse year"...my last year in Kenya, my golden opportunity to ride myself silly, and the subject of this blog. I'm back in Nairobi (for now), settling in after a long summer of travel. Meanwhile J. has undergone six weeks of enforced rest while undergoing her annual horse sickness vaccinations.

Our first show will be in late October, so right now the focus is on getting fit and remembering all the stuff we used to think we knew about being a horse and rider together.

We started out "get fit" campaign with a couple of nice hacks out with friends. J.'s stablemate, B. and her owner and my friend (who I'm going to have to call J2 since I'm on this initials kick) are frequent companions, and there are another four or five horses and riders on our road who join in as it suits.

From our barn, we need to walk down quite a steep but short hill on tarmac road before crossing the dreaded Limuru Road, a main thoroughfare out of Nairobi that is always bustling with lorries, matatus, busses, etc. Our horses, bless them, have learned to stand quietly amid the chaos until it's time to dash across when there's a gap in traffic -- though J. was quite startled one day when a matatu tout leaned out of his vehicle and patted her on the butt as he drove by. I think she was secretly flattered.

Once across Limuru Road, we have access to an area of small farm plots and random residential development served by dirt roads, and to a large tract of property that belongs to the Agha Khan. This property has been fenced as a prelude to being developed into (rumor has it) a medical training facility. But the work has been slow to begin and the fenced-in land is slowly going back to bush. It's lovely land, gently rolling, with a mixture of grass and brush. There's bird and animal life -- African Crowned Cranes and Blue Herons, sometimes bushbuck and mongoose (mongeese?) -- plus cows, goats, sheep, and donkeys and people and bicycles and dogs and transistor radios and preachers with megaphones.

In other words, a lively scene. I often wonder what my old horse Turbo would have made of it, given his mortal fear of plastic bags. Since we ride there a lot, J. usually takes it all in stride.

But this weekend, for whatever reason, she did not. We were riding in a group of five, cantering up a nice soft hill with the Agha Khan's electric fence on one side. Behind the fence was a stand of maize, quite tall, dry and RUSTLY. When we got to the top and pulled up, I noticed her giving the maize a suspicious look. "J. thinks there are gremlins in the maize," I told my companions...and suddenly, J. gave one of her patented "shy with a twist" moves, and off I came.

I am always surprised at how long it takes to fall off a horse. I'm amazed at how much thinking I can get done in that relatively short distance from seated on J's back to whatever undignified position I eventually take up on the ground.

This time, as I oozed earthwards, I managed to think the following: J's coat is looking nice and shiny...hold on to the reins, but just lightly, so if she takes off you don't break your finger again...please, J., if you do take off, don't try to cross the road by yourself...how many people are watching me do this right now?

Then I landed, quite comfortably, on my back, and congratulated myself on recognizing the use of the past perfect tense in the Swahili phrase being chanted by the nearby children: "Mzungu ameanguka! Mzungu ameanguka!" ("The white lady has fallen off! The white lady has fallen off!")

And J., bless her, did not take off but instead put her head down and started to graze. Which reminded me of the way our cat Lulu used to immediately start to groom herself with intense concentration whenever she broke something.

J. looks so innocent when she eats, doesn't she?