The Girl with the Flying Horse, Part 2

Cont’d…read Part 1, here

When it’s my turn, I walk up to the microphone, overwhelmed by the sea of faces looking at me. I open my mouth but no words come out. There are whispers in the crowd and I flush in shame.

Just as I’m preparing my resignation letter in my head, an image of the horse takes it place. If I could approach a horse that could have killed me then I have nothing to fear with these people.

I start speaking. I pour out my heart, add a few anecdotes and statistics about our product performance and end my pitch to thunderous applause.

The announcer invites the audience to rate us and I come in second. I’m surprised and so pleased.

 

As I head down the stage, Susan walks up to me.

“Well done, girl. That was great,” “I think you should have been the first sha.” She says with a big smile.

We continue chatting on the way to my company stand. Ugonwa and Ololade join us.

“That was a nice pitch, Ayomi” says Ugonwa

I try not to read too much tonher tone and thank her.

We have more visitors to our stand and I also get a few job offers. All because of an unexpected encounter with a horse.

…

After the conference, Susan and I walk out of the tent. As we are heading to the parking lot, I see the horse.

“Just remembered, need to check something before I head out,” I say

“Why?” There’s nothing over there” She follows my gaze.

How could she have missed the horse? He is less than 100 feet away.

“It was so nice meeting you”

“Same here girl, I will definitely reach out and we can hang out.” She gives me a tight hug and we go our separate ways. I’m actually glad I met her.

The horse looks different. There are iron clamps running all across his lower sides, ingrained into his skin.

“What happened to you?” I whisper

“I know it’s you but I also know I didn’t see these clamps yesterday.”

He looks at me in his solemn way and looks away. I walk closer and pat him on the shoulder, as a deep sense of peace floats through me.

“You saved me today” I can feel the wide smile on my face as I recall the events of the last two days.

“You reminded me that I have nothing to prove to anyone. I’m done with comparing my life, my journey and accomplishments with others.”

I say thank you and grow quiet. The gentle pat on his back the only motion between us.

Then he gives a slow neigh and shakes his head. I laugh at this. It always seems like he knows, like he understands every word said and unsaid.

He shakes his mane again and lowers his forearms.

This is odd; does he want me to ride him?

There is no harness and I’ve only ridden a horse once in my life. At the beach when I was ten years old with the guide directing the horse.

I adjust my side purse, hold on to his neck and back and heave my self over. Thankfully, I had worn my black capris today.

He jets off.

Racing past the entrance and through the streets. It feels like we are flying,

As we get to a curve on the road, I start losing my balance, leaning off to the right. I hold on to his neck and push down my leg so I don’t fall off.

As we pass the bend, the horse straightens, just as I was getting back in position, he picks up speed, I look up to see another corner ahead, this one sharper than the last one.

“Ayomi, what have you gotten yourself into!” I mumble under a whoosh of breath.

As he gets closer to the corner, I try to hold on to his neck but end up with handfuls of his hair.

The steady beat of his hoofs on the concrete earth is the only thing my mind can comprehend.

Just off the bend, he runs down a sandy path with overgrown grass, a deserted construction site running along one end of the path. He abruptly stops under the grove of a large tree. I look down to see him drinking water from a broken toilet cistern. I hoped it was rainwater, not pee.

I look around me and notice that my left side is only a few inches from the wall of the site, I hoist myself up, to rest and catch my breath.

When he’s done, he turns to me then stops, I notice that he is moving funny. I look down and see that his legs are stuck in a car tire. I watch him struggle for a bit and I try to help him, stretching my right leg to push down on the tire, while holding on to the fence with my arms and left side of my body.

He becomes frantic, which makes the tire ride higher. After a few minutes of exertion, he is finally free. He runs swiftly to the opposite side of the path and collapses on a large slab. I smile at him. That was such a vulnerable and human moment. At least, he is not perfect.

 

As I try to get back on the wall, I see two men a few feet from me. They must have walked down the path while I was fiddling with the tire.

One of the men steps on an old, dusty plastic crate, near the wall, and hoists himself up. The other one, steps on a few large stones and jumps, catching the top of the wall and pulling himself up. They do these so effortlessly and in quick succession. I consider using either of these options and decide to stand where I was. I have had enough embarrassing moments for one day.

There’s a hum of conversation coming from the men. I can’t make out their words but catch a few phrases., ‘he’s the only one left. How did he get here?

They must be talking about the horse

I looked back at the horse, once again struck by how big and imposing he looks. It’s as if the horse senses that he is the object of their conversation. He lifts his neck higher and struts towards us.

I feel a burst of pride, remembering the joy I experienced flying through the streets of Lagos.

“He was one of the greats,” says the one in a yellow shirt and shorts. This time I could hear him clearly.

The other, in a green shirt and jean cutoffs, responds “of course, Oludumare fashioned him himself.” “He was part of the…” then he stops.

I turn around, interested.

“Oludumare? Do you mean the Almighty?” The questions tumble out of me.

He continues “Yes, he fashioned the horses for the king’s army. The Ogun Pataki.”

“That can’t be! The last king we had was over a hundred years ago?”

As a child, my father told us stories of the Oba’s incredible might and how he defeated foes in the south and eastern parts of the country.

“Do you mean that king? King Adedumola?” I look at them, confused and a bit scared. They had to be pulling my legs. That’s the only way this makes sense.

How could this horse have lived that long?

But then I remember the little things; how ephemeral the horse had looked the first time I saw him, the fact that no one else commented on a horse being at the event including Susan. Then there were the clamps.

The young men jump down with a loud thud, like the very earth needed to echo their presence. They walk towards the horse, and I follow feeling protective.

For some reason, the horse goes to them. The bolts on the sides of his body shine in the sun as he swishes his small tail, at odds with his gigantic frame.

The one in the yellow shirt holds on to the horse’s tail then let’s go slowly, the horse’s tail unfurls and elongates. It falls in three separate parts with some writing on one part. The other standing close to the horse’s head leans in and says something into its ear. He then blows air into the horse’s ear and it sets off. Faster than he had gone with me, faster than I had ever seen a horse run, even in movies. He runs through the gateless entrance of the site and goes all the way, a speck in the distance.

I look at the men again, what did they just do!

It feels like the sun is standing right over them. I notice patterns on their faces. One with blue glowing signs across his forehead and running down one side of his face, and the other with white and green lines on the sides of his face.

How I could have missed these! They had seemed like young men having a good time with short punk hairstyles, glistening dark skin.

But of course, I knew there was something different about them. The way they spoke about the king and the horse.

I am rooted to the spot. They see my reaction and laugh.

The one in the yellow shirt and blue face pattern pauses for a moment to look at me, right into my soul “He will be back soon” he says before joining the other.

I continue to look at them until they are way down the path and I don’t see them again. Almost as if they had never been here.

Not sure of what next to do, I sit on one the large stones facing the entrance of the construction fence and wait for Esin mi Pataki, my special horse. It feels like this was all meant to be. Like he came at the right time to save me.

I can’t help but imagine what I will tell Ayokunle and Bolanle when I get home.

My reverie is broken by the sound of thundering hoofs. I look up and see him heading my way. He is still a far off but going so fast that it looks like he’s in the air.

I squint to get a better look and notice that he’s carrying something in his mouth.

“Wait a minute, is that …”

…

It feels like I’m floating. I hear my name and realize someone is shaking my shoulders vigorously. I open my eyes to the worried face of my mum. I look at her and around in confusion.

I’m on my bed. Ayokunle and Bolanle are standing by the door with obvious signs of worry and exertion. They must have broken through my door.

I look at my mum again.

“Ayomikose, are you okay?” You have been sleeping for over 12 hours!” She says

I’m shocked! I usually sleep about 6-7 hours, never even slept up to 9hours straight.

I lift my shoulders with some effort.

“What day is it?”

The frown lines on my mum’s face deepen.

Ah! Ayomikose, Ah! e gba mi o!” She exclaims

“Today is April 22^nd.” She responds

Thats two days before the conference.

I realize it was all a dream.