MY MOTHER AND SAIMOON

Bryn Anderson’s mother, Michelle, with Jabwah, her Easter present.

‘ ‘ You look like someone I used to know

FEATURE

A Mother, a Daughter and a Horse – of course

When Bryn Anderson’s mother won a horse in a raffle, she had all sorts of explaining to do, writes Bryn, before a lifelong love story could unfold.

This is a tale (or should that be tail) of how my family’s life got flipped-turned upside down because of winning an Egyptian Arabian horse, a veritable Prince of the Air.

Thirty years ago, even though she had never had an Arabian horse, nor knew anyone at the time that owned an Arabian horse, for some bizarre reason my mother got invited to an Arabian Horse Gala and Showcase.

As part of the evening they had a raffle to win a weanling Arabian horse by the stunning Egyptian stallion El Halimaar. My mother was so struck by his beautiful looks that she subsequently proceeded to spend several hundred dollars buying tickets, putting my name on all of them, because she thought that if a five-yearold won the horse, my dad wouldn’t be quite so upset.

Flash forward a week later to the Emergency Room, where I was crying with a split open chin due to a misadventure involving a curb and one of my older brother’s skateboards. When the phone in the room started ringing, the nurse answered it. It was my Dad, wanting to speak with my mother. Without even asking the nurse how I was, I can clearly recall hearing my father’s voice yelling through the phone.

“MICHELE, DID YOU ENTER A RAFFLE TO WIN A HORSE?!”

Ever unflappable my Mum replied, “No, honey, Bryn won a horse.”

There I was covered in my own blood with a split open chin in the Emergency Room, but all I knew was – I’d won a horse!

Really, my dad didn’t stand a chance. Despite the fact I had a Welsh pony at the time, as a five-year-old I certainly wasn’t capable of caring for a barely handled, untouched, half wild Arabian weanling. And although my mother had grown up riding a various assortment of horses, she was also in no way capable of caring for a barely handled, untouched, half wild Arabian weanling. But you know, semantics.

Shortly after we’d won our raffle horse, my mother happened upon an amazing house. In one of those extraordinary moments of synchronicity, my mother knew this house. In the past it had been an Arabian horse farm my mother had frequently visited as a child. Although it had been subdivided, and all the rolling pastures turned into multiple homes, the original Mid-Century ranch house with a small barn and a few pastures still existed...and it was for sale.

Once more my Dad didn’t stand a chance because now we had my pony, a weanling Arabian colt, and a ranch. Yippee!

Although I ‘won’ him, no one was fooled - Saimoon was 100% my mother’s horse. Furthermore she had somehow convinced one of her best friends and her sister, to also get Arabian weanlings. I’m fairly certain the breeders just happily tossed totally unhandled baby horses they didn’t want at these women and then quietly laughed themselves silly. At one point, because my mum, my aunty and their friend couldn’t handle these lively weanlings, they used cars to create a funnel from the stalls out to the pasture. It didn’t work. I’m not sure which weanling tried to jump one of the cars - and succeeded, but my money is it would have been Saimoon.

Flash forward a bunch of trial and error, surprisingly none of which involved any horses being injured, and my

‘ ‘ There I was covered in my own blood with a split open chin in the Emergency Room, but all I knew was – I’d won a horse!

mother and Saimoon competed at Arabian horse shows all over the United States, frequently coming up against Patrick Swayze and his beautiful horse, Tammen.

At the Arabian Nationals in Scottsdale, my mother actually had a broken leg and in a full cast and on crutches, was lifted on to his back so she could still compete.

Saimoon was a larger than life horse. He and my mother were just the perfect fit, and he was her soul horse. I considered him more of a sibling, but there was a bit of sibling rivalry too - we didn’t get along. This horse who was spoiled putty in my mother’s hands would try to bite me and pin his ears at me every chance he got – but only when her back was turned. He was her baby, her beautiful majestic Arabian prince. He had the perfect pink nose she could kiss. He would hear my mother’s voice and bugle whinny for her. Not just a nicker, not just a low whinny, he would scream for her. No matter where he was, horse show, training barn - she could stand at the front of a barn and call his name and he would bellow for her so loud she could find his stall immediately. I’ve never seen a horse do this for anyone. He did this every day of his life. He screamed like this anytime he heard her voice, multiple times a day for thirty years. And that made the silence when he left us so much more heartbreaking.

This is where the story gets a bit dark. A few decades on, and in the space of a few years, my mother had a small stroke, they found a small inoperable hemangioma in her brain, and once we’d received this news, my mother then lost her father. Saimoon was getting old, he had been battling navicular problems and seromas – fluid pockets under the skin - for some years, and it was obvious a decision had to be made.

When I knew that Saimoon’s time was getting close, I decided to get my mother a puppy, whom she named Ragnar, and it did help ease the pain when we decided it was time to let Saimoon run free. However, only a month later we lost Ragnar in a horrific accident. And this was all in the middle of my parents putting up for sale their beloved ranch, which by then had been their home for thirty years.

In their new house, which still had some land, it was obvious that my mother needed something that was going to keep her happy. I started the search for a new horse, but how could any of these horses compete with Saimoon?

I googled the stallion that sired Saimoon, El Halimaar, and found an article talking about his breeder, Rancho Bulakenyo, and lo and behold they were still breeding Arabian horses. I found their website, and in the middle of the night I sent him an email. I told him the story of my mother and Saimoon. And then I asked him...did he have a horse from the same lines? A horse that could be a fit for my mother?

Something in my story hit a note with him. El Halimaar had been his “Equine BFF”, he told me and went on to say he had the perfect horse for my mother. Her name was Jadwah, which means ‘gift’ in Arabic. Saimoon’s niece, a young mare sired by Saimoon’s brother. And best of all I saw on the photos she had the perfect pink diamond on her nose waiting for my mother to kiss.

Just this last Easter morning my mother was surprised with Jadwah or ‘Zja Zja’ (like Zsa Zsa). My heart burst as my mother walked towards her in disbelief at the vision in front of her. “You look like someone I used to know,” she said, sobbing with happiness.

Jadwah has some big horseshoes to fill but I already know she’s going to be perfect. To see the video of when we surprised my mother with Jadwah or follow them I’ve started the Facebook page, ‘Unicorn Story’ or facebook.com/ UnicornArabian for her. Saimoon, the love of Michelle Anderson’s life, and the horse she won in a raffle.