Eating Horses

This summer has brought with it many guests from both Mexico and the U.S. Among them, my 11-year-old godson Nathan, and his parents Bob and Bridget. (They live in Richmond, California.)

Having taken Mexicana’s only direct flight from Oakland, a red-eye, the shuttle dropped them off here at the ranchito in the morning. Expectedly, Bob and Bridget were exhausted. Nathan, however, was so excited that he was on fire. “I saw some horses as we drove in. Can we go pet them?” he asked.

So after feeding Bob and Bridget and putting them down for a siesta, Nathan and I ventured out the front gate and I watched while Nathan made friends with a couple of the horses grazing near the property. Thereafter we walked one of the trails off into the countryside with him chattering away the entire time.

“It’s really hot here. I should probably have changed my shirt. I like shirts with long sleeves but with this one I have to wear a shirt underneath because otherwise it shows too much of my chest and I don’t think that looks very nice. Do you have rattlesnakes? What other kind of animals live here? Can we pet the cows? Oh my god, was that a giant wasp? That was. A giant black wasp. I didn’t know that you had those here. I hate Mexico and I used to love it.”

“Nathan, you’ve only been here two hours.”

“I know but those things scare me.”

The week proceeded with Nathan pursuing many projects. These included filling a plastic bag with sand, suspending it from a tree and then stabbing it with my father’s old military knife; attempting to fashion a home made bow and arrow out of random tree branches and stones; disassembling a variety of yo-yos, reassembling them and demonstrating his yo-yoing skills, and multiple trips to visit the horses.

I thought it might be nice if he had someone his own age to play with so I asked our maid Mary to bring her son Rafael out for a visit. Both boys were a little apprehensive given that neither spoke the other’s language. But we thought we’d give it a go.

The first thing that Nathan wanted to do when Rafael arrived was to take him out to feed the horses. (I don’t imagine that Rafael gets as much out of horses as does Nathan. To Rafael, who has been raised around them, they are transportation.) So Bob and I were attempting to ask Rafael what he’d like to do.

“Do you know the verb for “to feed” I asked Bob?

“Um, let me think. Quieres comer los caballos?” he asked Rafael.

“Bob . . .”

“Yes.”

“I’m pretty sure you just asked him if he wanted to “eat the horses”.”

“Ok, I think I’ve got it. Quieres alimentar los caballeros?”

“Bob . . .”

“I just ask him if he wanted to “feed the gentlemen” didn’t I?”

“I’m pretty sure you said “caballeros” when you should have said “caballos.”

As Rafael stared at us with his sweet little blank face, Nathan said, “Come on Rafael” and led him away.

“Do you think he’s scarred for life?” Bob asked.

“No, but given the choice he’ll probably steer clear of gringos in the future. I’m sure he thinks we’re freaks.”