Ibn Ryffarwa
Cathyryn Okasaki nee Bride is a friend of mine from high school. She and her husband David live in the central valley of Northern California on a piece of land that has housed horses and assorted other creatures under their care for the thirty plus years they have owned it. Like many who care for animals, there have been times when she has had to "put down" an old friend. It is painful. This is a story of a horse, Ibn Ryffarwa, and the life lessons he taught Cathryn's daughter, Rory. Cathryn sent this to me in an email in response to the story I wrote about Mr. Ford and his horse. I have reprinted it here verbatim.
Ibn's hole is sinking. David and I talk about him a lot. When I interacted with Ibn, it was not as if he were a horse, but just like he was a very nice, stately man. He (Ibn) was such a good person. The thing that bothers us most is that Ibn knew he was home and was very excited. He knew he was home! What he didn't know was that we were going to kill him. Was this decision right or wrong? I am not sure. But, it hurts.
I clipped his mane and cut off his tail. I wanted to keep as much of him as I could, but this continues to disturb me. Why did I do this? Did I rob him of his strength in the afterlife? It is so sad. He had the most remarkable tail. The way he held it and the way he swished it. Out of a hundred horses, I could have recognized him instantly, just by the way he held his tail. It was a proud, almost arrogant stance. He was a horse who absolutely knew who he was.
We got Ibn when he was sixteen. He had belonged to a neighbor. Rory had watched this girl ride Ibn and totally fell in love. They were people who went through animals and to them Ibn was disposable. We bought him and brought him home.
Rory would have been about seven then. Ol’Ibn would not do what she wanted. She would rant and rave . . . "Why mommy, why won’t Ibn do this, or why won’t Ibn do that?" "Rory, you have to ride him." "It does no good to just sit on his back." And so she practiced and practiced. Every day she rode. I would take her to little shows and dress her up and she looked so cute. She would go into the show ring just sure she was going to win a ribbon. Poor thing, this was not to be. She did not understand still, the concept of riding the horse with purpose.
"Ride with purpose" became a catch word in our household. "Rory, you must ride your horse with purpose." "Rory, you want to win? . . . You must ride like a winner!" Slowly, but surely she came to realize that she had the ability to control her destiny. More leg. More concentration. Better control of the reins. And Ibn began to give. Soon, they were a team and a force to be reckoned with. It did not matter what event they entered, everyone knew Rory and Ibn.
One time Rory and Ibn were competing in a jumping event and Rory fell completely over Ibn's head. He just stopped and waited. So did the crowd. There was a gasp and then a hush. It took Rory a minute, but she picked herself up. Her face was covered with dirt and she took her arm and wiped the dirt away. The crowd began to respond and clapped. She was out of the running, but it did not make any difference to this little girl. She got back on her horse and finished the course to a raising round of applause. The onlookers went wild. She finished the course . . . a loser.
It is a life story that each of us must at some time or another pick ourselves up, brush ourselves off and finish the course. I watched this little girl do this many times and with each experience I was amazed. I saw her win and lose. Some of her losses were devastating and yet, always she would go back and try again. There were times I would be more upset or heartbroken than she was. It built within her a strength that is still so evident today.
It was Ibn Ryffarwa who stood beside her and taught her discipline. I, as a parent, never had to worry or be afraid. He never caused her to be hurt. He taught her every lesson that would carry on in her life as a horsewoman and as a student. These disciplines spilled over into her personal life.
Rory, Ibn and I did the Sacramento County Fair over several years. I told Rory about my going to the County Fair as a child and falling in love with a horse. I love this horse to this day fifty years later. I was just an onlooker. An unrealized dream. And so, I asked her to be kind. "Speak to the children when they come around. Explain to them about Ibn. Share your wealth." She did. I was so proud. Ibn would stand there and let the strangers handle him. He was so patient with us
Reality is, she was to outgrow him. Her little English saddle is up in my attic. She could not stop her growth or her desires for bigger and better. But he was the animal that gave it all to her. When she was nine, she would refuse to get on any other horses. I said, "This is crazy!" She would cry and cry. I would give her lessons and it became a battle . . . and so, I sent her to horse camp. My instructions were that she was never to ride the same horse twice. She did so well the first week, that I kept her there for a second week, and by the time she came home she could ride anything!
Rory became an excellent horsewomen with the nickname, "Kamikaze!" She could take any jump, win any race and compete with the best of them. This too, was the best part of my life. I loved every minute. Someone once accused me of living through my child, and I said, "You're absolutely right!" You see, I found that children can take you to places you've never dreamed of, if you only go along. I was so lucky to have this little girl who loved life and wanted to do it all, and to have owned an animal as fine and honest at Ibn Ryffarwa.
I go out to say hello every day. I still have times when my tears will fall. My love and respect were no less as he aged. I always knew he'd come home . . .