15 Filho da Puta
I never gave a proper name to the horse that I had in my Brazilian Peace Corps days (1964-66 Pedro Gomes, Mato Grosso, Brazil) but since that was what Milton called him, I decided it was appropriate. Peace Corps would not allow me to have a motorized vehicle at my work site and since I was an agricultural extentionist, I needed transportation out to the farms. I tried a bicycle, but it was limited on the dirt roads, and someone stole my bike anyway! Peace Corps then agreed to buy me a horse.
My Peace Corps site, Pedro Gomes, north-central part of map. Source free dictionary.
Milton, one of the shopkeepers in Pedro Gomes, had a difficult horse that he wanted to sell. He said the horse was too unruly for him and he had been trying to sell it for some time. That sort of spurred my interest and Milton took me out to his nearby pasture to see the horse.
The horse walked up to us to eat the grain that we offered. Milton quickly placed a bridal over the horse’s head, and we went over to a shed to get a saddle. Once the horse was ready Milton suggested that I go ahead and try him out.
Milton held the horse’s head while I began to mount, but out of some stroke of meanness, decided to strike the horse hard on the nose just as my leg started to swing over the horse’s back. The horse bolted, of course, but thanks to those years of riding Flicka, I managed to finish mounting and gain control of the horse. I also managed to keep my temper at Milton who just grinned at me. I rode the horse around the pasture to find that he was not well trained and was skittish! I knew he would take some work.
I saw the horse as a challenge and agreed to buy it if Milton would let me use his pasture and would buy the horse back for the same price when my tour in the Peace Corps was over. The double-digit inflation of the Cruzeiro made this profitable for Milton.
“Filho da Puta” was another Flicka, but much more skittish and would shy at anything that moved. Some of the townsmen took derisive pleasure at suddenly throwing their arms in the air when I would ride up. This would cause the horse to bolt, and I would have to regain control. This made me angry at first, but I realized that this was a bit of their culture. I put a stop to it when I invited a few of these jokesters to ride the horse. When one of them finally accepted my offer, he did not last long in the saddle. Because I was the only one who could ride him, I gained the reputation of being “um bom cavaleiro.”
Bugre and me with our horses on the main street of Pedro Gomes, Mato Grosso, Photo by Rick Bein 1965
Actually, Filho da Puta became attached to me, and he decided that he liked going places and he became easier to catch in the pasture. He was a very strong horse with lots of endurance. Once we were out away from the town, we made good time.
One rancher invited me to his distant ranch fifty miles away. His son and I spent the night on the trail. After a few days out there, I headed back into Pedro