A column of Asian ponies carrying saffron-robed monks trots down the steep trail towards a Buddhist temple as the morning mist rises from the thick jungle foliage of northern Thailand. At the arched entrance, a crowd of hill-tribe villagers, local dignitaries and a handful of tourists gather with fresh provisions to offer morning alms. Along with rice, fruit and vegetables, they proffer milk cartons for the growing bones of the novice monks, whose average age is 12. As the lead rider approaches the wooden gate, he turns back to the group of boys and states in a stern, fatherly tone, 'Remember that we must always be strong and put on a brave face. Stand proud and never be afraid of anyone.' Such words might seem a bit odd coming from a man of the cloth, but in the hills of northern Thailand - overlooking Myanmar's lawless jungle - the head monk's comments represent his 'tough love' for his adopted family. The morning procession has become a daily attraction at the Golden Horse Temple, renowned as a haven for orphaned children and unwanted animals. The hilltop sanctuary, which stables more than 200 ponies, was founded by former Muay Thai champion Sameu Jaipinta after he hung up his gloves 10 years ago. 'I wanted to get away from the city life,' recalls Jaipinta, the son of a rice farmer, 'so I decided to become a monk for seven days.' During his self-imposed retreat, Jaipinta travelled to several remote villages along the border, where he witnessed the destruction wreaked by the narcotics trade. Ruthless traffickers often recruit the Chao Khao people as 'mules' to transport packs of amphetamines and heroin across the border from Myanmar's mobile drug laboratories. But a lengthy jail sentence - or the death penalty - usually awaits those captured by border patrols, leaving many children as orphans. 'I saw many drug dealers and users who were wasting their lives. It was very sad,' explains the heavily tattooed Jaipinta. While meditating in a remote mountainside cave, Jaipinta saw a vision that changed his life. 'A spirit came to me in the night and asked me to spread the Buddhist faith and help the suffering.' In the dream, Jaipinta remembers seeing many wild, golden horses running free on the side of the mountain. Inspired by the apparition, he began building the temple of his dreams at the top of Doi Mae Jan mountain - and the sanctuary was born. A couple from a nearby settlement who had recently won a lottery donated the first horse as an offering of gratitude to Buddha for their good fortune. After being given the new name Kru Ba - meaning monk teacher - Jaipinta used the mare to travel along washed-out trails to remote villages, where he would teach about the evils of drug use. Word quickly spread of the 'saint of the mountain' and his new temple. Horses have been used for centuries by the hill tribes as a mode of transport - for legitimate loads and for the hauling of export-bound opium and raw heroin through the rough mountain terrain. The Burmese, or Shan, pony - named after the northeastern state in which the breed originated - is known for its adaptability to rough terrain and high altitude. Resembling the Himalayan Manipuri in size, the mah klaab - meaning local pony - is short, stocky and not particularly attractive, but the animal is a solid workhorse. Now, with the availability of off-road vehicles and better road systems, the herds are diminishing and many owners can no longer afford to feed the animals. Some are offered up to Jaipinta while others are bought by the temple from local slaughterhouses. Several hundred horses are cared for on the temple grounds by novice monks, many of whom build strong bonds with the animals. It's an odd match-up of man and beast but the therapeutic effects are amazing. In the west, it's called equitherapy, but in this remote hilltop region, medical terms aren't part of the vocabulary 'I give a horse to every child because many of them didn't have love and care at home,' says Jaipinta. 'When they first come to the temple, they can speak only in their hill-tribe dialogue. The boys can talk to [their horse] and feel good about themselves.' For youngsters such as Sam Meun, care and attention are essential elements in the healing process. 'My father was a yaba [amphetamine] dealer when we lived in [Myanmar's] Shan state,' says 15-year-old Sam. 'I used to see him smoking drugs all the time. He was sent to jail for seven years.' After his father's incarceration, Sam was brought to the temple by his aunt. 'I didn't have many friends in my village and I didn't see my parents very often. Now I am happy and have the job of taking care of my own horse,' Sam says proudly, as his bronze pony, Lata, munches on a stack of hay. Like Sam, most of the boys have faced adversity and trauma in their home life. Now, with their own horses, a foundation of respect, patience and, most importantly, trust is built up over time, giving the youngsters the skills to develop healthy relationships with people. For 13-year-old Ala Achatong, whose parents separated when he was four, stability is a welcome change. 'I've been in the temple for one year and take care of my horse every day,' he says. Some of the hill-tribe villagers volunteer to cut and bag feed for the ponies. In exchange for their work, they are provided with board and tuition at a state-run weekend school in one of the villages. With the support of the Supreme Patriarch of Thailand, the country's most senior spiritual leader, Jaipinta schools the temple's novice monks in the teachings of Buddha and the standard government curriculum. The day begins early for the novices. They rise at 5am for exercise, followed by a one-hour meditation session. Then it's off to the stables to feed and groom their steeds before a canter to a nearby village for alms collection. After the morning rounds, the group eats breakfast and gallops off to the one-room wooden schoolhouse. A chorus of voices can be heard repeating the Thai alphabet from the building, which is surrounded by a herd of horses. 'Gaw gai, khaw khai, kaw kuat', the pupils recite as the female instructor points to foreign letters; at first, most of the students can speak only their tribal dialects of Lahu, Yao, Akha or Lua. But the language courses have succeeded and many graduates land jobs working as translators for the government forces in the hills surrounding the temple. Colonel Peeranet Ketsem recently visited the monastery to lend his support to a reforestation project. Ketsem has overseen a cross-border campaign to stop drug smuggling for the past three years, working with 20 villages in the area. Jaipinta often accompanies the troops to the villages to educate the people through Buddhist teachings. 'All of the big problems around here revolve around the drug trade. I go to the villages and try to offer the hill tribes options: agriculture, weaving and other alternative ways to make money,' says Ketsem. 'And now, [Jaipinta] can offer them jobs at his horse temple.' The colonel has brought a team of his border-patrol guards to replant trees on the barren hillside overlooking the horse temple. Villagers have donated 1,000 trees to cover the dry, sparse area, which has been laid to waste by illegal logging: a scourge across the region. 'It is good that [Jaipinta] is working to get the hill-tribe kids away from the temptations of the drug trade,' says Ketsem. 'The horse is a powerful animal that understands the human soul.' Jaipinta's special brand of therapy is apparent later in the day: during the afternoon bathing of the animals, the novices splash about with joyful abandon. In a region where children are forced to grow up all too quickly, it's a good sign.
