MY ambition is to be a jockey. I love to listen to the races and picture the horses bolting from the starting gates. “And they’re off! Dancer and, Red Red Rose have taken the lead, Classic Girl is closing in.” I am breathing fast. “They come down the home stretch. Sunny Boy makes his move.” I am up on my feet in excitement.

“They fly down the Homestretch, Red Red Rose and Sunny Boy are neck and neck!” I am riding an imaginary horse by now: knees bent, left hand holding the reins and right hand using the whip mercilessly. All the while making the up and down movement of a jockey, upper torso getting a thorough workout. The winner is always the horse I am riding.

This ambition also manifests itself in dreams. I own a Stud Farm and horse racing tracks. I have the best horses in the business. People from all over the world come to admire or buy my horses. Most of them are winners. Incredibly this kind of dream recurs at regular intervals. If by chance I wake up halfway through to make an urgent call to the bathroom, on my return to bed, the dream continues. It’s no lie. Believe me.

At 13, I am still hoping to ride a horse. My friends think I am childish but what do they know about these things. Discussing the possibility of owning a horse with my mother met with emphatic refusal. “Absolutely Not!” I pleaded and she queried, “Who’s going to feed it, bathe it, shine and polish the riding equipment, shovel the horse dung, wash and clean the stable?”

When put over in this clear and practical way I decided that it wasn’t all that important after all. My friends Billy, Chris, Lloyd and Johnny and I were on vacation and we went camping on Billy’s grandfather farm in the Rupununi Savannas. Because we were all old enough to be out on our own, (only one of us was 13 years, the others were all 14-year-olds) we were permitted to camp out in one of the fields.

Each morning we’d collect necessary food, take baths then return to our dwelling ready to take on the world. Today we decided to go for a hike beyond the farm and into the hilly country not too far away. We’d watched it and fantasised about conquering the gigantic peak, which rose a staggering two to three hundred yards into the skies. The incline was gentle but to us, it seemed a steep climb. We would not be daunted. So off we went.

As we walked we marvelled at the beautiful open spaces, unlike the city from where we all came. The first hour passed quickly and we approached and entered a wooded area a short distance from our goal. As we drew nearer, the hills seemed to squat on us but we kept going. Emerging from the woods we saw an open savannah with thick green grass, wildflower and scattered trees.

A stone’s throw away was a herd of horses. One of the 13 was black and beautiful, which immediately reminded me of my dreams. My favourite horse on the stud farm was a black stallion. He was my personal pet and not for sale.
Before I could stop myself I opened my big mouth and put my foot right into it. “See them! I could ride them all!” There was immediate laughter. “If I want to I could ride one right now!” There were hoots and great merriment at my expense. Turning away a bit angry at their lack of faith, I started on towards the hills.

“Wait up, Clint!” I paused. “Let’s see you ride one now.”
“We’ve got to get to our hills,” I reminded them deftly avoiding a crisis.
“Come on we really want to see. Bet you can’t even touch one.”
“That’s easy,” I blurted out. From here on things quickly got out of control. I sauntered off towards the horses and knew there was no turning back. How did I get myself into this? This was the first time I was actually that close to a real horse. The ones I knew disappeared when I woke up in the morning. Hesitantly I looked back towards the gang.

“Go on!” “Coward.” Goaded and egged on I stepped closer. As I drew near some of them trotted off and stopped a short distance away. Three remained cropping the rich lush grass, refusing to be deprived of their rights.
My anticipation increased with each closing step. The black looked up at me then returned to his meal. That casual look filled me with fear and excitement. The adrenaline raced through my veins. My heart thudded against my bony chest. Gingerly I stretched out my hand and touched a brown mare. My presence started it and it shied away trotting off to join the others. Laugher and shouts of satisfaction assailed my ear and dented my pride.

Boldly I walked towards the black. It looked up and remained there. I touched it. Nothing. Rubbing its face and neck I marvelled at how easy one of my dreams had come through. Here I was actually stroking a horse and a black at that. Wow! Thoughts of riding it began to surface but I turned back. “What now?” “Afraid?” “Look at the great jockey who’s afraid to ride a horse.” Laughter. That hurt so I threw caution to the wind.

I went up to the black and taking him by the mane with trembling hands I mounted with some difficulty. He was bigger than I thought but eventually, I settled on his back, my feet sprawled to cling to his ribs. Perspiration and jitters caused me to blink continuously. We just remained as if in a trance. Without warning a stone struck the flank of the black and with a start we took off. Despite the thick grass, the hooves pounded as we increase speed. I clung to his mane and rested my confused head on his neck. I stopped thinking and started praying.

Trees flashed by and his speed remained constant. From my one-sided view, the hills receded to be replaced by more trees. Scents I am good at, and somehow I smelt the water. Don’t ask how that’s possible; I just did. Sure enough, we came to a halt on the edge of some sort of creek.
This was my chance to get out of this fix. Visions of being hurled over a cliff by a wild stallion began to grow vague. My movement to alight seems to send him into action and turning we headed in the direction we had come.

It took a while for me to realise that we were moving at a slow canter. The air seemed to have lost its volatile properties. We were in control. Trotting back I felt sure the horse had just taught me a vital lesson and was taking me back, confident that I was cured of bragging and succumbing to peer pressure. He was right. In the distance, I spied the boys racing towards me in panic. Sitting up I rode up to them and got down. They stopped short of breath and the incredulity of the situation robbed them of the little breath they had. The sheer awe on their faces was heaven to behold.

“Wow! He rode it wild and all.” The tone was full of respect and admiration. Heads nodded in agreement then my chief attacker piped up. “Aw that’s nothing,” Lloyd ventured. “Watch this.” With that, he walked towards the black. The black’s head rose and our eyes made contact. Those gentle wise circles spoke volumes to me. I kept quiet. Gripping the mane, he jumped onto the black and shouted, “Geed-e-up!” About 800 pounds of muscle rose into the air shaking him off like an unwanted pregnancy. With hooves beating out a sweet rhythm, the magnificent black sped off to join his friends leaving a rueful Lloyd to rub his sore butt.

Needless to say, we laughed ourselves into stitches and needled poor Lloyd all the way back to our campsite. From then on everyone took me seriously and would listen whenever I spoke about horses and my ambition. As for me I have gained a healthy respect for animals and never make them the subject of any dare. Taunts I take in stride never doing anything I am uncomfortable with. My friends sense this and rarely push it.