The Lusaka Derby

TEXT: RIKA WILSON THE LUSAKA DERBY

“T he Lusaka Derby was a particularly difficult event for me to wrap my head around this year, and I wasn’t sure I would enter at all.

SAN TROPEZ AND GRATINA

SAN TROPEZ

San Tropez, a South African bred Dutch Warmblood, was my heart horse, my emotional crutch and my listening ear. My story with San started in 2016, and he was the horse that was there at the exact time I needed him the most. We’d been together just two months and were starting to get to know one another when I had to face the most challenging experience that, I think, anyone could face in their lifetime; I lost my 21-year-old son in a tragic, traumatic accident. San Tropez was just there when I needed him. I could pour my heart out to him, and he gave me so much in return.

This horse made me believe in myself again, gave me courage through his courage and taught me to love life again. With San, I had a purpose. On his back, thoughts like ‘I’m too old’ and ‘only jumping 80cm’ had no meaning

or bearing. For two years in a row, we won the 90cm Lusaka Derby, Adult Victor Ludorum, and I was the leading Adult Rider at the Derby.

And, yet, last year, I just had the fleeting feeling that this would be our last together. I can’t explain it or reason why but I knew my horse, and instinctively I just felt that he was telling me something.

I lost San, my angel horse, in May of this year. He had a tear in his small intestine and was in so much pain that I couldn’t bear to watch him suffer anymore.

A NEW CHAPTER

While San and I were still going strong, at the end of last year (2021), I received a call from my friend Charley Crockart. She phoned me to say she had a horse for sale, who was very similar to San, but this time a mare called Gratina. I wasn’t sure, as I don’t have a particular affinity for mares (being one myself).

But, long story short, I flew to SA, tried the little fruitcake and LOVED her. I bought her, got her back to Zambia, jumped her in the festive show in December, and then the work started. When we began with flatwork, it was

clear the lessons were going right over her head. She was bored, so we tried something different; she bucked, I sat, and we kept trying new things until we got to know each other and worked things out.

Just as it was starting to come together, I had to let San go. My heart was shattered, and I lost all motivation. I couldn’t see the point in doing anything without him.

The closer the Lusaka Derby came, the more emotional I became. This had been my event with San, and I couldn’t ever think of competing in it without him. It didn’t feel right. I felt guilty even thinking about it.

My friend, Candice Kent, suggested I build a small course she had designed in the arena and jump it with Gratina. I jumped the St Andrews Cross, the dyke, the hedge, the tyres and the steps with a few friends, but it was all a bit half-hearted. Two days before the entries closed, I was still really uncertain about what to do. Candice said that she believed San Tropez had sent Gratina to me and that he would guide us. With this, I felt ready to enter, and I started preparing, cleaning and packing. Mundia, my wonderful groom and partner in crime for the last seven years, washed, plaited and got us all ready for our weekend trip.

The Friday was the Accumulator round, and I was so nervous, but lo and behold, we won first place. My superstition is always that a good Friday leads to a poor weekend and vice versa, but I turned up on the Saturday and was clear first round and into the jump-off, where we came second by just one second!

My confidence started to grow again, and I woke up feeling positive on the Sunday morning. We arrived at the show grounds, and I looked around, and the nerves hit me like a tonne of bricks. Thankfully, Gratina was there. I got on board, and it was like a light went on in her. She was emotionally connected, and I knew she’d take care of me. There were 16 competitors in the class, with lots of younger, braver riders ready to tackle the 15 jumps. I was on fourth from last and watched endless people come off at jump number nine. Horses shied, stopped and dropped their riders again and again.

We walked into the arena, I showed my little fruitcake the bogey jump that I was now dreading, and she gave it nothing more than a sideways glance. The bell went, and Gratina just soared. We were the only clear round of the entire day and winners of the class.

My heart bursts with pride and gratitude for my little fruitcake and all she has done for me. I have my hope and joy back again because of a mare called Gratina.