HORSE BITE

There is a scar underneath my left arm. It’s a testament to that fateful day, years ago, when I had a horse bite.

         Yes, I had a horse bite. Not a love bite. Well, it’s a bit like a love bite, but from a horse.

          It started innocently on a typical hot and humid Saturday afternoon when everything at our school grinds to a crawl. It was when most kids were either taking a nap, or hanging out in little huts, called “camps,” that lined the banks of the Tenaru River. It was a time to relax.

           The school was St. Josephs, Tenaru, located a few miles east of Honiara, the Solomon Islands capital. I can’t remember the year, but I must have been in ether Form 3 or 4. So, I was about 14 or 15 years old.

            And despite my small stature, I was already trying to establish a reputation, among my peers, as a budding rascal. Perhaps, nobody else saw me in that macho image. It was all in my screwed-up little head. I thought I was the dude to come to if you want something done, especially tough stuff meant for tough dudes. (But, we didn’t use the word “dude” back then. It didn’t exist in our vocabulary).

              In those days, the school had a couple of horses that were used to roundup the schools cattle. On weekends, some of us sometimes took the horses for rides around the school.

            There was this particular horse called Eagle. He had a freak reputation for being “wild.” He had, on several occasions, thrown students off his back, or simply ran amok. In retrospect, I think he was just tired of being constantly harassed by boys waiting for their turn to ride.

             This particular Saturday, following the morning work session, me and two of my friends decided to go horse riding.

              But, before doing that, we went to the school’s coconut plantation and harvested, drank and ate green coconuts. We were not supposed to do this. The school’s long list of rules prohibits students from harvesting green coconuts. This was, however, one of the most difficult rules to follow. As far as I knew, nearly every student had broken that rule. You see, the dinning hall food was so bad and never enough that we needed the coconuts to survive. So, that Saturday, my friends and I had a green coconut feast.

               After we were filled, we decided it was time to look for the horses. We found them grazing in the paddock next to the plantation.

               I decided that we would get Eagle, the “wild” one. I thought I could seduce him with grass and get him bridled and ready for the ride. So, I cut some grass and fed the horse. My friends stood some distance away and watched. That made me show-off, determined to impress them. Eagle came closer and ate the grass from my left hand. I had the bridle in my right hand, hidden behind my back.

               My plan was to get the horse close, swing the bridle over its neck, grab the neck and jump on its back and quickly put on the bridle.

              In my little mind, I thought I was a cowboy, like the ones we used to see in the old Western films that we watched regularly. (Many of those films were really old, left behind by the U.S. Marines who were on Guadalcanal during WWII).

             In my mind, the plan was perfect. I had convinced myself that I was a cowboy from those old Western movies, trained in the art of horse jumping.

              And so there I was with Eagle eating grass from my hand. I felt powerful, like a horse whisper. I had this horse hypnotized. The horse was mine.

              Eagle ate the grass from my hand, looking calm and peaceful. I was smiling, ready to swing the bridle around the horse’s neck, jump on its back and make him my galloping slave for that afternoon. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my body. I felt like Superman.

                But, the horse had his own plans. At that time, I didn’t think of that. I didn’t know horses could plan.

               Just as I was about to turn into Superman and fly onto the horse’s back, Eagle suddenly took his mouth off the grass, and before I could take a lung full of air, he grabbed my little arm in his mouth. His big teeth sunk into my skin as he closed his powerful jaws around my arm, knocking me off my feet. Before I could say anything, I was curled in a ball in the grass crying. The Superman cowboy in me had disappeared.

                Eagle turned around, gave a loud whiny, like a mocking laugh, and then galloped to the other end of the paddock.

              I was so shocked I didn’t want to stand. I stayed curled in a ball in the grass for a while, crying like I was about to die. My two friends were laughing. That made me cry even louder.

             After everything calmed down, we checked my wound. It was only a scratch. But, the horse had left a scar that I will bear for the rest of my life.

             It’s a horse bite – my love bite from Eagle, the horse.