take pity on the helpless, be the man or beast

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From the New Straits Times

 

INTERMISSION: Take pity on the helpless, be they man or beast

Zainul Arifin

 

May 25:

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SURIANO and Sisely were two horses stationed at the Paddock, a beautiful

real estate nestled in a grove of hundred-foot pine trees in Fraser’s Hill,

for the RM3-a-ride show.

We first saw them a couple of years back and were looking forward to seeing

them again this past weekend. We stopped by the Selayang wholesale market

for some apples, carrots and radishes, which they loved.

 

But when we got there, they were no longer around. They had been put to

sleep.

 

They were definitely old, both into their second decades, their glory days

as race horses or polo ponies having passed them long ago.

 

They lived the tail ends of their lives giving visitors to the hill resort,

children especially, rides around a 100-metre sand track.

 

Over the years, they must have clocked thousands of miles with thousands of

people on their backs. It got hectic during the weekends and school

holidays, when the lines are long, and the two must have gone round the

tracks hundreds of times daily, likely to be led by either Daud or Ismail,

two of the handful of people that work the rides. They gave rides from 10am

to 4pm, with a break from 12.30pm to 2pm.

 

How they died was clear, a single shot to the forehead, hopefully quick and

painless. By then, they were no longer giving rides. Age got to them — a

20-year-old horse is 60 in human terms.

 

Why they died it is not clear. Somebody said they were old and sick beyond

healing, and it was the humane thing to do.

 

Two years on, the workers at the Paddock still grieve over Suriano and

Sisely, which had been with them for years. Their eyes would mist and they

would shake their heads at the turn of events. They declined to talk of the

events that led to the horses being put down, but a few of them, Ismail and

Daud included, left the Paddock on the day of the shooting, not wanting to

witness the killings.

 

There were no rides till March last year when four horses arrived. They

remain nameless for the moment, except one which Daud called Ringo.

 

I think they may remain nameless for a while yet as the workers are unlikely

to put much emotional investment to the newcomers, what with the memories of

Suriano and Sisely still fresh in their minds.

 

Only two of them are allowed to give rides since one has yet to fully

recover from a fall a year ago and the other is too thin to be able to take

the weight on his back. They eat well though, a combination of grains,

including oats and barley, made palatable by wetting them with water.

 

The horses like the fruits and vegetables that we brought, but they have to

be cut into small pieces, since they are equally past their prime and their

teeth are not in the best of shape.

 

It is good to know that during off-peak periods, like weekdays, the horses

are allowed to roam free to rest their bones and aching muscles.

 

One thing that bothered me a lot is the stable, which looks run down. The

stalls measure about 2.4 by 3.6 metres, small for a man, and much too small

for full-grown horses.

 

Some of the horses bang their heads against the rafters when they get

excited seeing the chow buckets at meal times.

 

But worse is that the roof leaks. I saw plastic sheets placed under the roof

to stem the leak, but I can bet the horses will be soaked when it rains.

 

And I bet when the rain is whipped up a bit by the wind, there will be no

place for the horses to escape. In the cool highland, night temperature can

be low and much lower when it rains. I didn’t see any horse blanket either.

Animals feel cold, too.

 

The horses obviously need a new stable, with bigger stalls for each horse

and a roof that doesn’t leak. I hope the Fraser’s Hill Development

Corporation, a unit of Pahang Tourism, which operates the Paddock, can do

something about that quick.

 

Horses are God’s creatures, too, and if we decide to keep them, they better

be taken care of, especially when they are turned into beasts of burden for

the amusement of tourists.

 

Some people might say that they are only horses, and that there are

thousands of people living in destitution and helplessness among us. As it

is, there are many hard luck cases of families living from hand to mouth in

deplorable conditions.

 

True, and I say no one should live like that. It is our collective

responsibility to make sure that everyone gets a chance to lead a decent

life.

 

Am I making too much of a deal by romancing the deaths of two horses that I

know nothing of, but had a fleeting encounter during a weekend sojourn?

Obviously. But I cannot help thinking that a society is only as good as its

treatment of the helpless and the voiceless, be they man or beast.

 

The stable at the Paddock is now painted black, but if you look hard enough

at one of the stalls you can still see traces of Suriano’s name.

 

On the way down, we stopped for tea at Kuala Kubu Baru and the sky opened

up. We could not help thinking about the four horses and their leaky roof.

 

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