Sweet Sugar – Manis Gula

In Indonesia, the customary manner of greeting and also of saying goodbye is that if you are the younger person you gently hold the older person’s right hand and lift it to your forehead, bowing down slightly to them. Then you tap your hand softly to your heart. It’s a greeting of respect and honour. I’ve never seen locals hug or kiss when they greet one another.

The other week when Made and I visited little pony Chance, Ibu Muslima was in quite a bit of pain. We spent some time chatting with them, and told her that soon she’d receive a visit by our friends from Endri Foundation/Lombok Forgotten children, to help her get onto the government’s social system (to enable her to access the free medical help that is available to poor people).

We gave them a bit more money to tide them over whilst they continue to rest their pony, Chance. At one stage Ibu Muslima looked at me so deeply, right into my soul. I don’t think I’ve ever seen or felt such profound gratitude. As we were leaving I bowed my head to her hand and was surprised when she drew me down to her into a gentle but huge hug. She wouldn’t let me go. She held me for a long time, this frail little lady, and when I pulled away I saw the tears falling down her cheeks.

So last Thursday was the big day. Tori organised for the delivery of a new little horse she had bought with the money that was donated through the gofundme by all the amazing supporters. The new pony is about the same size as Chance, but stronger, only 5 years old, and his feet and legs are pretty good. Tori came over by boat from the neighbouring island of Gili Trawangan, and Made and I met her at the harbour in Lombok. The new pony was delivered in a little truck from a town in Lombok, and we took the lead on our motor scooter to show them the way to Pak Mudahar’s house.

Tori walked him down the laneway, held him under their kitchen roof, and Chance was led out of his stall down the laneway to the waiting truck. I hadn’t seen him walking since that first day when “chance” brought him into our world. As I watched him hobble and limp down the road I was too shocked to take a video, but it confirmed to me again that we’ve done the right thing. He’s put on a bit of weight, his wounds are healing well, and his spirit has brightened, but he is old and worn out, and his legs will never handle any more work.

Then Tori brought out some donated gear. A new bridle and gentle bit, a better quality second-hand harness, padded girth tubes and padding for the harness. We checked over the cart, and bless her, she’s now also going to try to find a better cart to replace Pak Mudahar’s old one.

A crowd of people came to see what was happening; villagers and neighbours, and the men that brought the new pony. In the tiny space of Pak Mudahar’s front yard the change-over was a little chaotic and quite overwhelming.

I did manage to introduce Tori to Ibu Muslima, and she pulled her into a warm embrace also. Her milky eyes spoke a million thank-yous.

So, the new pony needed a name! We asked Pak and Ibu to choose one and Ibu Muslima said “Manis”. This is the Indonesian word for “sweet.” Pak Mudahar chimed in and said “Manis Gula”. “Gula” means sugar. So that’s the new pony’s name, Manis Gula, or Sweet Sugar.

I think the name is great! The pony does seem very sweet. He has soft kind eyes, and was very gentle and relaxed the whole time, allowing us to check him over and pick up his legs. Even when he was given the fresh green grass to eat, he wasn’t protective or narky. And this whole story has turned into a sweet-sugar reality.

Made, Tori and I discussed with Pak Mudahar the need to get the local farrier out as soon as possible to trim the new pony’s feet, we showed him the new gear and urged him not to work this new pony too hard, nor himself. Hopefully Pak Mudahar can slow down also. Made and I gave him a bit more money to get some more cement and finish the job of improving the floor in the stall.

We all walked out to load Chance onto the truck, and Pak Mudahar said goodbye to the pony he’d worked with for over twenty years. That was also more moving than I’d expected. We could see clearly that although Chance was in a dreadful condition, and he is a work horse, there is no doubt Pak Mudahar cared for him. He wants to come and see him in his paddock on Gili Trawangan one day when we can take him there for a visit.

Then we watched the truck drive off with Chance. He seemed a little unsure, a bit scared. Made was so worried. But soon Tori sent us pics of him on the boat, and then of him with his head down eating grass in a field on Gili Trawangan. His retirement has officially started. Soon Tori will worm him, and tend to his feet. Hopefully over time she can improve his hooves. It’s so wonderful to know he will never have to work again, and he is one lucky pony to get the chance to actually retire 😍.

I’d like to say a massive thank you and shout out to the people who generously donated to this “cause”. It has blown me away. A pony in a foreign land has been “rescued”, and we’ve helped save a family’s livelihood. I know there are many other worthwhile causes and needy people and animals all around the world; it is touching to be able to help these people and this little horse, and I pray much green lushness will grow from this tiny but profound seed.

Also my heartfelt gratitude to Made, and to angel Tori, who already has a few rescues she cares for in Gili Trawangan, and who has now given this tiny pony from Lombok a new home. Please check out the Horses of Gili if you’d like to see more of the amazing work she does here.

Made and I will continue to visit Pak Mudahar, Ibu Muslima and little Manis Gula as often as we can. Ibu Muslima asked me for one of my t-shirts. Locals particularly love to get clothes from their western friends, it’s not just about the quality of the clothes or the image or exotic fashion, it seems it’s the connection between us that is important. She is so tiny, I had to lean down to hear what she said and for Made to translate. And she gave me another heartwarming hug. Sweet sugar, the tears flowed again. With all the people standing around us I didn’t want to take off my old favourite black singlet I’ve worn for umpteen years, but I’ll find another one of mine that I will give to her soon.