Remembering Warrior: A Journey Through the Desert

My beautiful horse, Warrior, has died.

Everything possible was done for him. African horse sickness is a cruel and terrible affliction. It can take even the strongest and best. Warrior was all of that.

Lessons from Warrior

I learnt so much from Warrior. We crossed the desert together. We bonded deeply and shared countless experiences on our journey to the ancient cross by the Atlantic Ocean.

There are many stories I could tell, but one stands out. Namibia had endured seven years of drought, and then the rain came. At the beginning of this year, the desert flourished. From a barren, waterless wasteland, flowers bloomed. Beautiful grasses grew across millions of hectares that had once been devoid of life.

However, there were no animals to eat the grass. Those that had survived the drought had perished. When Warrior and I traversed the area, the grass was golden, swaying and sweet. Warrior had an abundance that was unimaginable. It felt like a horse’s heaven. I can still picture him now, amongst those endless golden grasses swaying in the wind.

The Journey into the Wasteland

Eventually, as we headed west, we reached the end of the grass. There was no more greenery. We ventured into the waterless wasteland, following a compass bearing. For Warrior, it felt like we were leaving heaven and entering hell. The horizon was barren: not a tree, shrub, or blade of grass in sight. There wasn’t even a rock to guide us. It was simply featureless desert, devoid of food, water, and shelter from the merciless sun.

Warrior grew restless. He wanted to head to the right, then to the left, then back to the right again. He was like a wandering wave on a troubled sea. Each time he strayed off course, I gently pulled him back onto my compass bearing.

I talked to him constantly: “Warrior, where we are going is good. Trust me. We just need to follow the direction I’m steering you in. I know it seems crazy, but there will be water. There will be food, even. It is good.”

After a while, he settled down. He stopped wanting to veer off course. In fact, he continued on the exact compass bearing I had set for him.

Trusting the Journey

Soon, I relaxed the reins. I realised I could let them go completely. I hitched them on my horn, and we continued in a straight line, neither veering right nor left. He had understood. Without any landmarks to guide us, and with nothing visible ahead except desert, he followed the exact compass bearing I had set—heading towards the well.

The rest of the story is history. After several hours, we arrived at a place where the ground began to fall away gently before us. Below lay the dry riverbed we were aiming for, along with the well that held water. The dry riverbed was lush with grass, nourished by water that had flowed down from the catchment area above us. Not only was there grass, but an Albida tree stood nearby, its branches heavy with ripe, protein-rich pods.

It was here that I received a miracle—a fish, in the middle of the desert—gifted to me by the Damara family living near the well.

The Legacy of Warrior

And so, Warrior is no longer with us. However, the lessons I learned during our time together endure. The lesson about the straight path in the desert is poignant and significant.

There is great sadness in my heart. Yet, I shall always remember Warrior in that desert place, which God transformed into a great, grassy golden heaven.

His spirit lives on in the lessons of trust, perseverance, and the beauty of the journey. I carry these memories with me, as I continue to advocate for the restoration of property and human rights in Zimbabwe.

Through sustainable agriculture and education, we can empower local communities and advocate for justice. Together, we can rebuild a more democratic and prosperous future for all Zimbabweans.

Ben Freeth

18 January 2026