Tales from the Campo Part 1: "La Bestia"

I was absolutely fascinated with life in the Campo.  As I rode the bestia through winding trails and over log bridges, into the lush foothills of Vallejuelo, I honestly thought, "This is a highlight of my life."

 
There's much to write regarding Vallejuelo, our bus rides to and from, harvesting crops, and the gracious hospitality of our hosts, Paco's family.  Nevertheless, I must begin the debriefing somewhere, and the bestia seems like the perfect spot...

When I asked Silvilio, Paco's father and the unmistakable family patriarch, what type of animals they used to subdue the land he answered, "Burros (donkeys), mulas (mules), caballos (horses) y bestias (beasts)."  To which I thought, "Beasts!  What kind of genetic engineering are they doing out here in the campo to produce such a laborer and what does the 'bestia' look like???" 

"What is a BESTIA?!" I asked.  Unfortunately I didn't understand the answer, so my vision of a cross between a mule and Sloth from The Goonies continued to pervade my imagination.  Then, on our way to bathe in the river, Paco mentioned that his brother was going to meet us there.  He was going on the bestia.  "Now, I will see the beast!"

As you can imagine, I was quite surprised (and rather disappointed) when Paco's brother, son and cousins arrived at the river on an animal that looked to me like a small horse.
Turns out that "bestia," although it's not listed in my spanish-english dictionary, is the name given to female horses here in the Dominican Republic (and for all I know anywhere spanish is spoken- bloggers feel free to comment).  Basically a "bestia" is a mare.

The story would be quite disappointing if it ended on this note, but, fortunately, as I mentioned earlier, I ended up spending considerable time with the bestia and she and I became fine friends.  After loading her down with water and slop to porter to the pigs in the highlands, I mounted the bestia and headed out of town and into the foothills.
Riding a bestia is waaaay better than driving any type of vehicle.  I would love to be friends with our car, but it's never going to happen.  However the bestia and I connected.  She responded to my encouraging words; she carefully carried me over bridges, through rivers and up muddy ravines.  I cared for her so much that I even felt bad that her hair was dirty and knotted.  Now that's love.