Both mares had been stabled in a bus station in central Lahore on the private
estate of Mr. Hasan Farooq , a reknown polo player of the city. In fact I was
lucky. Most private stables as well as Lahore Race course and Polo Club were
quarantined at present due to an outbreak of Flanders disease. Scores of horses
had already died and nobody wanted that to continue.
Although a little late, the leaving ceremony for the Riding for Education
campaign was a blast. It was held at the same school I’d been teaching at almost
ten months before and it was great to see so many familiar faces to see me off.
In Pakistan nomadic people are called Khana Badosh which literally means ‘house
on your shoulder.’ They are always a supremely warm and friendly people and
their children have amazing learning abilities given the harsh reality of the
life they lead.
Read Riding for Education Departure: Godh
School, Lahore
Almost two hundred children were present, PTV, SPO and several guests
including CAP Pakistan and Suddar and a rather dubious chap riding a cardboard
horse. Qwwali music was played, drums rolled and performances given by the
children. Most NGOs in Pakistan know about the energetic work of Nazir Ghazi and
Godh and this event was no exception. Godh works hard to educate and provide
health care to nomadic communities across Lahore . People who otherwise are
neglected by society. With Pakistan TV (PTV) coverage of this event and the news
articles generated I deeply personally hope that the colourful world of Godh can
be brought to many nomadic families across Pakistan. This is Nazir Ghazi’s
dream. I hope to help make it a reality.
Horses won’t live your way, they live their own and fixing schedules can be
nigh high to impossible. It took seven hours to ride across Lahore . I’d never
coped with two horses before under heavy traffic and these two were very
nervous. It certainly gave PTV a drama. Kabul was in front and Sparks was
behind. Sparks was the most troublesome, always competing to be in front of me
and Kabul . Her name is completely justified always rushing somewhere but with
no particular direction (SPARC is also a famous NGO fighting for children’s
rights in Pakistan ). Every five minutes the mare would launch into a high
stepping prance as if to prove her authority in our ‘herd.’ She continually
wanted to rush ahead which could potentially put us in a dangerous
situation.
Along the way we had a beautiful encounter with Caricas Pakistan who had
arranged for a local blind school in Lahore to welcome R4E. Around 8pm in the
middle of the smog congested traffic of Lahore, 25 local blind girls and boys
sand me a welcoming song to which I could only stand and stare. 
I was truly speechless and could only listen.
When you look at the problems of your own life and then at those of others one
realizes how lucky you really are. Yet these 25 boys and girls were perhaps the
bravest kids I’d ever met. They’d each made banners and small notices
highlighting the importance of education for all which dominated that side of
the street. I walked down the line shaking hands and explaining who I was to
give them the value of the encounter. It is something that I will never
forget.
I stabled the mares that night in a grain whole- salers barn exactly 100m
from the famous Delhi gate. It was 10pm and we’d all been on the go since 0530
that morning. The funny thing was that waking up on a charpoy the next morning
felt just like ten months had never passed. I’d sat later into the night talking
with the shop owners and woke cold and mosquito bitten on the charpoay at first
light.
After a gorgeous banquet of sheep’s head stew (which contains all the
contents of a sheep’s head in a stew!), I was sat under Delhi gate. Almost 11
months ago to the date, I’d sat outside Lahore gate in Delhi . Now once again I
was trotting the old Silk Route where borders were meaningless and trade was
everything. Together we moved onto the inner ring road and out of Lahore ; past
the Badshahi mosque and Lahore fort. Past all the famous landmarks that had
acted as a safety blanket for the past uncountable months. The first day of
Ramazan was about to begin, nine more schools awaited me and I had two new mares
ready to carry me on an adventure I’d never forget for the rest of my
life.
Kabul looked at the truck. The truck stared back. Neither was moving
and it was already 8am. We had been trying to get both of my mares to board the
vehicle for the past two hours and nothing was happening. The leaving ceremony
was beginning in two hours and I had to continually had to keep Atuallah and our
manic truck driver from trying to beat the stubborn beast in. I don’t blame her
though as this was a bus station we were located in and not exactly the place to
load a horse (see photo). The end result was that I ended up riding her 15 kms
across Lahore whilst Sparks rode the truck in style whinnying at us all the way
to keep up.