Training Horses (South Africa)

I have experienced more extremes on this trip than throughout the rest of my life in its entirety. I started my time in Africa in a mud hut in Zimbabwe with no electricity eating sadza. I finish in a mansion of a farmhouse in rural South Africa (though often with no electricity because of South Africa's current power crisis) drinking some of the finest wine and whiskey I ever have.
I have spent 2 1/2 weeks training horses on a remote farm and it has been an incredible window into life for some South Africans. The family I lived with are some of the richest of the rich in the whole world. It was pretty spectacular to get a glimpse into that sort of lifestyle; private planes, yatch clubs, golf clubs, many many full-time staff, tea served on silver platters, multiple vacation homes, the best private schools, more silverware than I could figure out what to do with. These people have a life of privilege most would never even think to imagine. I met a guy who told me he has never cooked a single meal for himself (he's 27).
Many of the white, wealthy South African farmers are waited on hand and foot, yet this is Africa so the wealth is different. Another guy I met may not know how to do his laundry, but he does know how to birth a calf. For most, these massive ranches are hobbies, though they are multi-million dollar ventures, it's not so much about the money, more the lifestyle and tradition.
I would never consider myself to be a city girl, but they certainly did here. The people I met are adept at hunting, fixing fences and making their own sausage. It is completely counter-intuitive to that kind of wealth, but hey, T.I.A.
Working on the farm with the horses allowed me to get an inside view into a community that few non-members would ever see. I met all sorts of people at the golf club, tennis club, luncheons, etc. They were very welcoming on the surface and I had to tell them that yes, I am here training horses, but no, I am not a horse trainer. There is a big difference! But I think that if I ever wanted to come back to train horses it wouldn't be a problem. It is a tiny community of very affluent farmers. Racial tensions are strong and everyone is racist or a realist, as they explain, in their own way. Yet almost all the kids grow up speaking Xhousa (a clicking language) as their first language because their nanny taught it to them before English. It is incredible to see. The men and boys are a different breed here. They still seem to be in a "Gone with the Wind" era where they are chivalrous beyond belief. I never once had to open a door or buy a drink and their whole "ladies first" mentality was funny because I would lead but not being from the area I didn't know where I was going!
Because town is so small people of all generations socialize together. There is that sense that everyone knows everyone. But another pulse throbs below the surface of this wholesome fresh milk, fresh bread and a lot of whisky veneer.
One night, bored of the blandness of the local pub (all white of course), I went with a couple of local guys to a nearby township of sorts. Their plan was to have me wait in hte car because it would be "far too dangerous" for me to go in, while they bought some booze at the township bar and we would take it back to the farm. Well, there was no way I was staying in the car, we had found the party that was definitely not going on at the all white pub. The bar was bumping music and full of energy. We, the only white people, were all cheered and hugged when we entered. I headed straight for the dance floor where a few girls took me under their wing. I had a blast dancing with them and everyone was so ridiculously nice and welcoming. It was a little unnerving because I was constantly surrounded but most people were just having fun. A few men just came really close and stared, just standing there on the dance floor watching me but other than that it was really fun. So I honestly don't know what would have happened. After about 30 minutes the guys I was with pulled me away. A crowd tried to suck me in, it was pretty chaotic, I was lucky I had 2 big guys with me, one of whom had to force a guy to let go of my arm so I really couldn't tell you the way the night could have gone. I like to believe that my friends were just paranoid when they said it would have gotten ugly. The people seemed happy we were there, but race in South Africa is a very tricky deal. Nothing is clear, it's all sorts of grey area all the time.
But I do know that I learned so much in the last couple weeks. As cliche as it sounds, it has been a very eye-opening experience to say the least. I got to ride whenever I wanted and gallop my horse through the stunning African bush past warthogs, bless bock and impalas. Now that is pretty hard to beat!