Last Sunday I went to the horse races in Harare with the family I work for. As you know, this year I have developed a fondness for horses and a deep appreciation for the skill it takes to ride one well. So I decided to support the five horses my employers had racing that day.
It was a strange atmosphere. You could tell that once upon a time, the race track was a place to see and be seen, that it was a happening place for wealthy, mainly white families to venture on a weekend afternoon. Now, it was slightly derelict with half-empty stands. Here, you could see Zimbabweans doing what they are best at – drinking. From the moment we sat down, a drink was put in my hand, and I was as everyone around me outdrank me like college football players.
I was interested in learning about how to make bets and to read the book of information given about each horse. The odds, the stats… boy it was confusing. Now I understand why people need to do PhDs in stats!
One man that I had met at the wedding in October wanted to bet, and he left it up to me to choose which horse to put his money on. I took my job very seriously, studying the horses before each race, and giving him my final choice
minutes before the race. I managed to turn his $5 into $37! Now I also understand how gambling becomes addictive!
It was interesting to see the horses, jockeys, and the owners. The horses looked nervous and poorly-behaved, trotting their pre-race laps almost sideways rather than straight-on as the horses I ride do. The owners were in the lounge, drinking at the bar, and seemingly-nonchalantly watching the races, buying rounds for their friends afterwards. One man stood out in particular, as he was in a wheelchair. Apparently, he had been one of the best jockeys in Zimbabwe, but recently fell off his horse and was paralyzed. Watching him stare down at the track was heart-breaking; it also brought me back to my recent fall from a horse, and the fact that, 6 weeks on, my ankle still hurts. Riding horses is serious business.
Overall, it was an interesting day and I had fun. If only I’d known a little piece of information that I found out a few days later, I never would have gone.
On Wednesday, I organized a field trip for Christoph to a sort of game park animal rescue reserve just outside of Harare. It was an amazing afternoon, getting to visit all sorts of African savanna animals, and getting 5-star treatment, with tea, champagne and strawberries!
The game park is on the farm of a friend of my boss. Roxy started “Wild is Life” because she is passionate about animals (probably the only Zimbabwean vegetarian!) so she started rescuing animals. She has quite a collection of lions, giraffe, zebra, a baboon, a variety of antelope, ostriches, a tortoise, the only 2 pangolins in captivity (look them up), and 3 cheetahs. We got to watch the lions feed, give strawberries to the tortoise, and give peanuts to the baboon. A few highlights:
1. Sitting on Roxy’s veranda drinking tea while a kudu named Sweet Pea tried to steal my cake. She was successful, and then she reached in for more, at which point I gave her a kiss and then she proceeded to lick my elbow.
We were inseparable for the rest of the afternoon, me because I was thoroughly enjoying petting her, and she because she thought I had more food!
2. Giving a proper rub-down to a 6 year-old male cheetah named Diesel. He was sitting on the ground with a mere harness on (and his keeper), and I knelt down and kneaded his head and neck for several minutes as he purred loudly. It was insane! I felt so comfortable with him – like it was Sammy the cat or something, but with more wiry fur, a much bigger head, and a much more powerful purr – and yet, it was a cheetah!!
I asked Roxy a lot of questions and learned a lot of interesting facts about the animals, animal protection in Zimbabwe, and conservation efforts in Southern Africa. I asked her how she managed to financially support these animals – I saw how much meat her 7 lions ate at dinner. She said that, among other things, she received a lot of meat donations. “From where?”, I asked. “From the race tracks.”
After a horse’s racing career is over, they are deemed useless and often shot.
Lions love horse meat.
It was a strange atmosphere. You could tell that once upon a time, the race track was a place to see and be seen, that it was a happening place for wealthy, mainly white families to venture on a weekend afternoon. Now, it was slightly derelict with half-empty stands. Here, you could see Zimbabweans doing what they are best at – drinking. From the moment we sat down, a drink was put in my hand, and I was as everyone around me outdrank me like college football players.
I was interested in learning about how to make bets and to read the book of information given about each horse. The odds, the stats… boy it was confusing. Now I understand why people need to do PhDs in stats!
One man that I had met at the wedding in October wanted to bet, and he left it up to me to choose which horse to put his money on. I took my job very seriously, studying the horses before each race, and giving him my final choice
minutes before the race. I managed to turn his $5 into $37! Now I also understand how gambling becomes addictive!It was interesting to see the horses, jockeys, and the owners. The horses looked nervous and poorly-behaved, trotting their pre-race laps almost sideways rather than straight-on as the horses I ride do. The owners were in the lounge, drinking at the bar, and seemingly-nonchalantly watching the races, buying rounds for their friends afterwards. One man stood out in particular, as he was in a wheelchair. Apparently, he had been one of the best jockeys in Zimbabwe, but recently fell off his horse and was paralyzed. Watching him stare down at the track was heart-breaking; it also brought me back to my recent fall from a horse, and the fact that, 6 weeks on, my ankle still hurts. Riding horses is serious business.
Overall, it was an interesting day and I had fun. If only I’d known a little piece of information that I found out a few days later, I never would have gone.
On Wednesday, I organized a field trip for Christoph to a sort of game park animal rescue reserve just outside of Harare. It was an amazing afternoon, getting to visit all sorts of African savanna animals, and getting 5-star treatment, with tea, champagne and strawberries!
The game park is on the farm of a friend of my boss. Roxy started “Wild is Life” because she is passionate about animals (probably the only Zimbabwean vegetarian!) so she started rescuing animals. She has quite a collection of lions, giraffe, zebra, a baboon, a variety of antelope, ostriches, a tortoise, the only 2 pangolins in captivity (look them up), and 3 cheetahs. We got to watch the lions feed, give strawberries to the tortoise, and give peanuts to the baboon. A few highlights:1. Sitting on Roxy’s veranda drinking tea while a kudu named Sweet Pea tried to steal my cake. She was successful, and then she reached in for more, at which point I gave her a kiss and then she proceeded to lick my elbow.
We were inseparable for the rest of the afternoon, me because I was thoroughly enjoying petting her, and she because she thought I had more food!2. Giving a proper rub-down to a 6 year-old male cheetah named Diesel. He was sitting on the ground with a mere harness on (and his keeper), and I knelt down and kneaded his head and neck for several minutes as he purred loudly. It was insane! I felt so comfortable with him – like it was Sammy the cat or something, but with more wiry fur, a much bigger head, and a much more powerful purr – and yet, it was a cheetah!!
I asked Roxy a lot of questions and learned a lot of interesting facts about the animals, animal protection in Zimbabwe, and conservation efforts in Southern Africa. I asked her how she managed to financially support these animals – I saw how much meat her 7 lions ate at dinner. She said that, among other things, she received a lot of meat donations. “From where?”, I asked. “From the race tracks.”
After a horse’s racing career is over, they are deemed useless and often shot.
Lions love horse meat.
