From a wooden rocking horse to a real horse

As a child, my favourite toy was a wooden rocking horse. She was red in colour and had a cream mane and tail and I called her 'Rocky'.I could spend hours on end rocking on her. I would sing and dream about my future.I never dreamed of riches or palatial houses but just a small hut with enough food and happines.... my mind would go on as I rocked her up and down.She was dearly loved by me.I would even fall asleep on her as she rocked me to sleep.  She had a pretty broad mane, broad enough to rest my little head. Other kids had often fallen off her but I never did.

My Dad retired  from service  when I was about nine years old and we were to leave Nairobi,Kenya for good, to return to India. It was then that my Dad told me that I would have to give up,Rocky, as she could not be transported to India. It actually wrenched my heart to see her driven away, to be given to some other kid. But later, when I came to think that another kid would be enjoying Rocky, it didn't upset me so much because I was a child who loved to share or even give off my toys to other kids. My Dad promised to get me one,as soon as we got to India. But then sometimes you out grow your fantasies  and you move onto the next level. I had now developed an interest in dolls as my Dad had bought me a small portable pram in which I could push my dolls around. My cousins in India loved to come over and play, as besides the pram, I had a mini cooking range and fridge and cooking vessels too. All these were not available in India at that time.

Many many years later in the summer of 2011, I was invited by my niece to visit Australia,along with my daughter.My niece and family was at that time staying in Gosford,New South Wales. Her husband, an Australian is  a very adventurous type, as generally most Australians are. So for the three weeks we were there, they jotted out a plan full of adventure and fun. On their list besides camping and kayaking was also horse riding.

I was very excited, as I never really dreamt, that one day my fantasy of riding that simple wooden rocking horse would mature into riding a real horse. We went to Glenworth Valley, situated in New South Wales, which is famous for its unforgettable adventure experiences, especially horse riding.

 Equestrianism is the sport of horse back riding. Before we were given our horses,we were asked to sign a declaration that the ride was all at our own risk,which to me sounded a little scary. As one of the greatest dangers to a horse back rider is falling off a horse and sustaining injuries that can maime you for life.But then,the desire in me rose ,much above my fears,as I felt, "It's our attitude that will determine the ride". My niece requested the authorities to give me a mild horse. We were soon alloted our horses each one with a name.

Mine strangely enough was "Chilli",as she had a dark brown coat which in the sunlight gave a red like sheen. She appeared mild. For an instance she reminded me of my Rocky.  We were asked to wear our head gear and mount on our sadles and wait for everone else to be ready.We were a group of around

twenty.My daughter,niece and her husband were  also there,each on their own horses. We were given instructions as to how to control the horse just orally,mind you.

So off,we started on our trail with our guide just trailing  far behind us yelling out instructions, when required.It was an hours long journey  through hills,valleys and lushy green plains. The idea of giving up half way was clearly out of the question as there was no means to go back except on horse back

Chilli galloped slowly and I felt  at ease.Then, suddenly she would detour from the trail and go on up hill on a different lonely trail.Later, I realised she didn't like going into any slush, which was the aftermath of the rain .So she was just like me,one who detested any form of dirt. 

Soon,we reached the plains and Chilli from gallopping suddenly started cantering. All my attempts at controlling her with the reins became futile. She turned out to be wild,my heart was in my mouth and I started quivering.Several thoughts rushed through my mind but her speed made them disappear as I was concentrating on how to hold onto her for dear life. She cantered for quite sometime, which appeared to me like hours on end,till we reached the hills. Then she started galloping again.We then took a different route back and she went her own way,far from the trail but I realised she was sure of the way and that at some point would join the trail. My confidence in her grew.

At last, we reached the finishing point and before I got off her,the guide came upto me and congratulated me saying that I was good at cantering....my mind flashed back to Rocky ..."thank you for teaching me to rock".I petted Chilli for bringing me safely back.

If you ask me, will be there a another time?.I would  rightly say why not ! Due to the lessons I learnt  from both Rocky and Chilli.

Holidaying on Bamburi beach, Mombasa

It was a summer in the 1980s when my husband's boss decided to give his employees and their family, a vacation at Bamburi beach resort,Mombasa. We were so excited because we three families who were his employees,were all friends and were getting an opportunity to spend time together . Kenya being near the equator, summers are in December.

Our train tickets were booked and it was an overnight journey.We set out with all excitement. One of the families had two kids so they brought their maid along.

The Kenyan Railway service provided us with a four course dinner,the speciality that was there, which continued from the British days . Linen and blankets were provided for the night journey.We settled in well and enjoyed the ride and had a good night's sleep except for the hustle and bustle at the stops on the various enroute stations.

We arrived at our destination Mombasa and enroute to the beach was fascinated to see on Moi Avenue two pairs of giant aluminium elephant tusks, commissioned in commemoration of Queen Elizabeth's visit in 1952.

We were booked at  Rana Cottages,       , on Bamburi beach. A nice little cottage with two cozy bedrooms, hall and kitchen. Our friend who was single was given accomodation on the couch,which he didn't quite enjoy but had no other choice.

My hubby being a hairy bear and his first visit to a beach resort was reluctant to get into shorts or swim wear and even thought of getting his legs waxed. After being told about the agony that he would have to go through, with such thick long hairs,he decided to venture out showing  off his masculinity.

To quench their thirst in the sultry weather,the men decided that there was nothing better than a cold Tusker beer.

The sea was so blue and beckoning us that we soon got into our beach wear and set out to find that it was low tide. That was an experience for me who had no idea of swimming....you could walk miles into the beach to just lie in that low sea level of water and feel a slight buoyancy.The water was warm and so nice that we spent hours just lying there.

Towards late evening the tides would rise and come in  with such vigour and roaring sound that you would wonder whether this was the sea you witnessed in the morning. The high tide had come in and the place you lay in the morning was so rough you could not demarcate it.

We spent most of our time lying on the sands and sea in the mornings. 

While we were there,we found a beautiful spot near our cottage to watch the sea and sand.

Right  there far away was a real sight to behold! A model strode the beach...she reminded us of Boderick.She would get into the water with a piece of cloth but get out without. She had come to sun tan her body to some kind of perfection, I guess.

This became our past time that even we ladies admired her beautiful body no doubt because she was indeed the epitome of beauty.We did not  restrict the men from ogling at her as we gave them some freedom of course.  In cases like this we couldn't but share the admiration.My hubby sat there glaring into the distance without a word .I thought perhaps any remark made by him would be admonished by me and thereby fearing my wrath, he made no comment. Days went by and not a word was spoken by him although we all got together and made remarks.

The day we were leaving we all took our last glimpses at that lady and then my hubby had so much to say...it left us flabbergasted.He then revealed that all those days he was not wearing his spectacles and hence missed all the fun. We had a good laugh.He wished he could rewind and really regretted it and was reluctant to leave.

Thus ended our holiday on Bamburi beach admiring all forms of nature.