PLAYING WITH PONIES
By Carolyn Oei, 29 December 2019
“When will you stop playing with ponies and get a real job?!”
Ashleigh Sanderson feels panic for a second at the comment, then rolls her eyes as she reminds herself that few things are as real as what she does.
Sanderson has been “playing with ponies” for as long as she’s been able to walk.
I met her in Malaysia. I’d booked myself a riding weekend at a lodge in Johor and she was one of the three riding instructors employed by the lodge at the time. I didn’t take any lessons with Sanderson that weekend, but we engaged in polite chatter during meals. On subsequent riding weekends at the lodge, I think I might have done a lesson or two with her.
We kept in touch.
Ashleigh Sanderson just can’t help herself. Photo: Ashleigh Sanderson
The more time I spent with Sanderson, the more stories we exchanged and the more we understood each other. We were after the same things in life; harmony with nature, some form of medical insurance and as little contact with humans as possible. Given the nature of our work – we both teach humans – the last item on our checklists has to be managed with some deft.
I’ve taken many riding lessons with Sanderson to date and she is, to me, probably the best instructor that I’ve trained with. I’m not the best rider, which puts me in an excellent position from which to comment on an instructor’s abilities. I’ve taken lessons with maybe seven other instructors over the years (in Singapore, Malaysia and the UK) and Sanderson is the only one who hasn’t shouted at me from inside the circle to kick the horse and “show him who’s boss!”.
An integral part of my friendship with Sanderson is conversation. We spend a lot of time talking, talking, talking. How else is one expected to connect with another? I wish I could bottle all of our conversations, keep them and listen to them according to the advice and resolutions I need at any given time. With Sanderson’s permission, I’ve recorded one or two conversations; I certainly have made copious notes into which I dip in and out, much like how I’d read the Catechism of the Catholic Church. The content is far too dense to be read in one go; it needs a great deal of unpacking.
When Marc and I were struggling with our dying cat and euthanasia, I called Sanderson for a chat. I needed clarity and I knew she’d help me find it.
“But, it isn’t my place to intervene. I’m not God!” I was almost incoherent in between the sobs.
“You intervened the day you took him in. You intervened the day you decided to treat his condition. You cannot turn your back on him now.”
Our late Chubs Lechat who passed away in October 2019, just two months shy of his 16th birthday. Photo: Marc Nair
Sanderson has lived through political upheaval in Zimbabwe where she was raised, swum with horses on the chi-chi celebrity island of Mustique and broken multiple bones in her body. She continues to play with ponies around the world, teaching in Germany, Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, Spain, South Africa, the UK and anywhere else that she’s required to be.
The woman needs to write a book.
Until such time that she does, I think the world would benefit from a glimpse into some of the conversations that we’ve had.
TRUCKING FORTY HORSES OUT OF ZIMBABWE
Conversations over whisky are always enlightening and they enable one to discern if the friendship is worth keeping. Sanderson and I have been friends since 2010.
Over whisky one evening on her porch in Bali some time in 2012 or so, we got to talking about why she left Zimbabwe. She’d been running a stable fairly successfully until circumstances practically forced her to leave. The process entailed countless negotiations, smooth-talking, wrangling, screeching in frustration and lots and lots of quiet praying.
“Having spent most of 1999 in Ireland, working for an Irish Olympic event rider, I returned to Zimbabwe with the thought of starting a rehab yard, rather than returning to teaching. It started well – almost too well – as I began to collect more, more and more horses. As they came in and became more ridable and user-friendly, I ended up doing more teaching, mainly to give the ponies a job to do and a way for them to earn their dinner.
At the same time, the political situation in Zimbabwe continued to deteriorate rapidly. In 2003, my brother lost his farm and moved to South Africa and, by the end of the year, I was ready to go, too. There was limited water coming out of the taps, regular and long power cuts. No fuel, long lines of cars parked at all petrol stations. No fuel to power generators, phone land lines not working because the cables were stolen and limited mobile phones since the lines were over-subscribed. Limited horse feed and no hay due to farmers not farming, cash becoming difficult to get out of the banks since they were running out of actual money. And, of course, empty supermarkets for the humans, too.
Life just got incredibly difficult.
I had 80 horses, a yard full of grooms, livery clients and riding school pupils and was spending more time just trying to keep things running than actually teaching.”
Sanderson’s stables in Zimbabwe. Photo: Ashleigh Sanderson
“Time was marching on to get out and it was a toss-up between Zambia and South Africa, and I wasn't going anywhere that I couldn't take my horses. I decided on East London in South Africa since that was where my brother and his family had gone. And the only family left in Zimbabwe was my mom who could be talked into going to join my brother in South Africa.
A long year followed; being told that I couldn't possibly get my horses out, doing everything from DNA testing them, blood testing, passports, vaccinations, more paperwork and eventually managing to find someone who would truck them. The vet and I debated about horses; who was well enough to travel (many of my horses were elderly rescues, or badly broken in their bodies and it wasn't fair to expect them to travel 3,500 kilometres). Sadly, we had to put many of them down as I really didn't feel it was in their best interest to leave them in Zimbabwe. And then, of course, the livery horses moved on, so finally 42 horses made the trek from Zimbabwe to East London, over several fraught weeks.
Whatever could have gone wrong, did. A groom travelled with the horses only to admit at the border that he had no papers; the last lot of horses were caught in a nationwide outbreak of equine influenza; arriving in East London to be hosted (thankfully) by the local riding club but subsequently having to find a property for them; having to find a last-minute alternative plan for the dogs and cats, who ended up flying to South Africa, courtesy of Wet Nose Animal charity....
But, we made it. The horses got out and, over time, all ended up in the homes they deserved.”
SOMETHING TO PROVE?
Sanderson does her Xena impression quite well. Photo: Ashleigh Sanderson.
Stories of the “Wonder Woman” abound; the mother-of-one and jazz singer who runs a successful yoga studio and is currently pregnant with her second child. Her skin glows and she’s very lean. Or the corporate raider with the glamorous hair and make-up who is much smarter than she looks, sits on the boards of important companies and still has time to do charity work for children with cerebral palsy. And then there’s Jane Goodall. Okay, everyone can go home now.
Without getting into a confidence-damaging discussion of purpose, aesthetics and gender equality, it is safe to say that many women find themselves having to prove their worth, strength and ability at every turn.
I asked this of Sanderson, “You're a Wonder Woman by any measure. Do we (the royal 'we' of womankind) feel compelled to prove something?”
“Prove? Not really, no. I think going into a situation with something to prove puts you on the defence before you even start. On whatever road we are on - be it to become a better rider or build a business or simply to be happy and enjoy life, we all take different approaches, different routes. None of the routes is all right or all wrong, just different. I'm not out to prove my way is right or my ideas are right, but often, I ask people to question their fundamental beliefs. One of my favourite sayings is, ‘If you always do what you have always done, you'll always get what you always got.’
I'll ask a rider, ‘Why do you use that bit of equipment?’ To which they often reply, ‘Because we do.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it's what my coach puts on his horse.’
‘Why?’
‘Ummm… He's always used it.’
‘So, what does it do, why does it work, what benefit does it provide for you or for your horse?’
‘Uh…I don't know.’
Thinking like that upsets me. We humans have brains and should be questioning what we know, what we understand and how to do things better. And in this way, by being a nomad and seeing how other people do things and what ideas they have, I can build on my own tool kit of resources. If I see someone approaching a horse, a problem, a situation in a different way, I'm the first one to put up my hand and ask, what, where, how. Maybe I'm just nosy, but I prefer to think of myself as ‘inquiring’!”
Sanderson always questions. Photo: Ashleigh Sanderson
AWE AND WONDER
Children and animals experience awe and wonder all the time. A cardboard box provides hours of fun and recreation for toddlers and kittens alike. But by the time growing up rolls around, most adult humans are jaded, cynical, sceptical, suspicious and generally grumpy. Nothing’s a big deal anymore; nothing’s exciting anymore; nothing’s beautiful anymore.
Oh, what a frightful world to live in!
Similar to Sanderson, I’m constantly asking questions. I try to tap into my inner child once in a while to counter the apathy. Just this July, Sanderson and I attended a course on communicating with animals. We hung out for a bit in the baboon enclosure and had this chat:
“When was the last time you experienced awe and wonder?”
“When I climbed Kilimanjaro. You get to the top and there is this darkness of the sky. And you see the stars so clearly. Everything is faraway but connected. There’s a village down there; you can see them but you know they can’t see you. I was reminded of just how big the universe is and how insignificant we are.”
“Is it this bigness of the universe that fills you with curiosity to find out more about it?”
“It is. It’s always realising how big the space is. They say that the sky in Africa is the biggest sky in the world. I think they’re right.”
Sanderson and other trekkers on Mount Kilimanjaro. Photo: Ashleigh Sanderson
“How does that translate into your methods of teaching people how to ride horses?”
“Most people are disconnected from who they are, their bodies, animals, nature. They will ride a horse like they would ride a bicycle. They think that if they press a button, the horse will do that. If the horse doesn’t, they blame the horse and say, ‘Stupid horse. It’s not doing what I want it to do.’
If I were to ask the horse what the problem was, they’d probably tell me, ‘Well, this person can’t turn left because they have a stiffness on that side or their legs aren’t in the correct position.’
Ask the horse a question and they will give you an honest answer.
So, I try to get people to be aware of their bodies and space, where they are and where they fit in with the horses. The horse is the teacher, I’m just here to translate.”
Sanderson focuses on increasing a rider’s awareness of both their own body as well as the horse’s. Photo: Ashleigh Sanderson
“Did you manage to speak with any of the baboons today?”
“A young mother came with her baby. She seemed very proud of her baby and was showing it off to others. It’s a special thing when animals want to share their time and their space with you.”
(Note: In 2016, Sanderson trekked to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support.)
SHE IS HER OWN BOSS
Working for an organisation gives me a structure within which I can work my magic. But that’s about it. If the decision-makers aren’t my imagining of the ideal, I just work my way around that and do what I can for as long as I can. Sanderson seems to have similar sentiments.
“I know how hard it is being your own boss, but that’s only a tad harder than working for someone else. What was it like working for people? Why doesn't that work for you?”
“Oh, another difficult one. Working for people just doesn't do it for me on so many levels. Routine kills me; I just can't do set working hours on set days with my 1.5 days off a week and 25 working-days annual holiday. As soon as I have a contract in my sticky little mitts and a time scale that I'm stuck in one place for six months, not to mention SOPs (standard operating procedures) looming over my head, I just shut down.
What I do tends to be very intuitive. I'll often put someone on a horse who, on paper, wouldn't seem to be a match and it'll be magic. Or accept the request to teach a profoundly disabled child or one dying of cancer because I think I can help them even though a yard's SOP wouldn't accept them. I remember a horse who came to me for schooling many, many years ago, when I had my own yard. He came for a month while his owner was away on holiday, but she wanted him trained since he was quite difficult. He had been so over-trained that he was completely sour and fed up with his job. I did ride him every day, but I also took him out and we played; we swam in the dam, we had long canters in the bush, we led kids out on treasure hunts. And, when his owner got him back, she was delighted by how much he had improved. In the strictest sense, I hadn't done what was asked, dressage training in the arena. But, he was a happier, healthier, more responsive horse when he went home. So, had I done my job? In many commercial set ups, I wouldn't have been able to do this.
The other thorny issue is commerce. I strongly believe that if we are earning our living from horses, we need to give back. I have always taken on a rescue horse or two to rehabilitate, even if it hurt the bottom line. Partly because I love doing it – it’s one of the most rewarding aspects of what I do – and partly for me to stay on that learning curve; each of these horses with an issue will show you something. That is virtually impossible when working for someone else when the pressure is on to balance profit and loss.
I don't like having the feeling that my hands are tied.”
LIFE’S LESSONS
I’d like to think that Sanderson and I have intelligent conversations. Well, most of the time at least. There is the odd occasion when we’ll have an extended chat about cat poo and then not remember how we even got there.
“How do you view wealth and power?”
“Absolute power corrupts absolutely, right? I think I'm very wealthy; I have amazing friends, I have legs that still walk, I’ve ridden incredible journeys on fabulous horses, I've climbed mountains, swum oceans, had amazing adventures. But if you ask my bank account? No, I'm very definitely not wealthy! People get hung up on how much they earn, how big their house is, what stuff they can buy and often miss out on all that they have. One of the biggest lessons that I have learnt by travelling is how so many people with so very little are the happiest and the most generous. I left one particular contract and all the grooms had clubbed together to buy me a leaving gift. They earned a fraction of what I did and struggled to come out each month for recreation, but they still bought me something. I find that incredibly humbling. And their little gift made me so very wealthy.
All too often, someone is very good at what they do. A few horsemen come to mind. They have a technique or an understanding, someone big picks up on it, they sign contracts, write books, make videos and suddenly, what was a talented, genuine horseman, becomes a salesman, standing there saying, ‘If you pay only $99.99 to buy this cheap piece of pink fabric, you, too, can train your horse like I do.’ Ridiculous. I do suspect that somewhere deep down in my subconscious, this belief that money takes you further from your talent will stop me becoming rich and famous!
The big governing bodies of the horse world are not stepping up to the plate in terms of welfare and regulating the lives of competition horses. They have the power, so what is stopping them? Money, greed. They don't want to step on the toes of those funding big events and flashy studs, so they are, voluntarily, gagging themselves. They are scared of those who hold the money and, seemingly, the power. There is much that needs fixing in the equine world; some days we are heading in the right direction, many days we are going the wrong way.”
Sanderson’s riding through the years. Photos: Ashleigh Sanderson
“Does ‘all talk and no action’ annoy you like it does me?”
“My biggest bugbear. I do some charity work and often get slammed for posting pictures of the poor working horses who I volunteer to help. ‘You're promoting horse abuse by making them work and supporting this!’ I get told. Or ‘I can't bear to see the pictures you are posting. You obviously don't feel as much about the horses if you can go in and deal with that situation.’ I think the very opposite. If you are really committed to making things better, you have to go in where the bad situation is and HELP. Sitting back, being a keyboard warrior, isn't going to get things done. Get off your couch and go and do something!
On the other hand, I know some people who get so caught up in a cause that they become difficult people to deal with. They go from being beautiful humans with amazing compassion and empathy to becoming hard, dogmatic and single minded. Their cause, or belief, becomes bigger than they are. Everyone is here doing the best that they can do in the situation they are in. If a child proudly shows you their new plastic toy, bought cheap from a local market, you don't berate them for their use of plastic. If someone is trying, help them, support them, don't condemn their efforts.”
“And working with animals? We love them, we use them, we care for them, we eat them, we shoot them for sport.”
“Sport hunting, trophy hunting - just ban it all.”
Photo: Ashleigh Sanderson
“When does utility become exploitation?”
“It's such a fine line to walk. And this is the grey area where I say we are all on different routes and journeys. I think that if it enhances the animal’s life or gives them happiness then it’s all to the good. If it doesn't cause mental or physical stress, it's okay. If they become bicycles and merely a means to an end, it isn't okay. This is part and parcel of wealth and power in many cases.
Dressage, the aspect of horse sport that I am mostly connected with, is training; it's the gymnastic training of a horse to allow him to develop a more correct, balanced and athletic way of moving his body to create longevity and ease of movement. It's what a good physio or personal trainer should be doing to help you. Dressage as a sport has become about winning prizes, securing sponsorship from saddle makers and stud farms, getting to the Olympics and making a name for yourself. If this horse isn't good enough, get a new one. They're just bicycles.
Good, correct, honest training should be enjoyable and empowering to a horse. If a horse is happy in his work, he should approach you in his paddock and happily enter the arena with a good work ethic. It's that reading of equine body language and having an empathy for them that is so often lacking. And that is where, rather than approaching what I do as ‘proving a point’, I hope I manage to get riders to start to question themselves, their trainers and their training methods.
Working horses are an even greyer area. If a family has nothing and is living in poverty and has to eke out a living, they need to use the resources that they have at their disposal. And, in many cases, all they have is donkey or pony. You cannot tell that family that they can't use that animal if it means they are not going to be able to feed their family. Working animals can have a happy life and, we, in First World countries, employ animals to work. Riding school horses, police horses and dogs, guide dogs, even companion cats, they are, essentially, employed for a task. The First World economies were built on the backs, and hard work, of horses. So, who are we, as the privileged few, to tell poor families that they cannot use horses?
However, when these animals are not respected and are working through injury, illness and worked to death, with no help or rest, it’s a problem. Which is why I don't support rescue homes as such, but the charities that support working animals AND their owners, through education. These owners, in poverty, are doing the best that they can with what they have. Often, they have a lot of pride and just coming to interfering foreigners for help can be a massive step. They are putting aside their dignity. We need to treat these people with empathy, respect and empower them, not belittle and humiliate them.
Temple Grandin is a real inspiration. I think the meat industry is absolutely, mind-bogglingly, horrific. The terror of the abattoir chute and the kill-pen must be crucifying, but Temple Grandin has used her experience of overwhelming sensory input as an autistic person to help develop better kill systems. A circular, narrow passage for starters, as this mimics an animals wandering route and stops them from seeing the horror unfolding in front of them. In my perfect world, abattoirs wouldn't exist, but realistically, this isn't going to happen. I don't believe that the inaccurate, inflammatory rantings of the likes of PETA will help, but people like Temple are quietly making the world a better place.
I still battle with this fine line of work – use, utilise and abuse – but doing our best, every day, is all we can do, right?”
Most camels spit at people, some kiss them. Photo: Ashleigh Sanderson