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Update 17th of December 2021
Jaśmin is safe thanks to you!

And on his behalf we can’t thank You enough. Although he is still scared, we will do everything in our power to convince him that he is safe. As soon as he appeared on the farm, he was inspected by a veterinarian who took care of him comprehensively and professionally. Jaśmin still has to go into quarantine, and a blacksmith will see it – it is a ritual that all our horses go through when they start a new, happy life.

All this is possible only thanks to you. There are no words to express our gratitude.
Once again, on behalf of Jaśmin and ourselves – thank you!

His story

Big dark eyes. Big, dark barn. Big world around, right outside the window. And he is standing in the middle. He is standing and shaking. No, not from the cold. A moment ago someone poured into his eyes all the fear of this world. When I try to approach, he panics as far as the rope allows him. So not too far. Because the rope is not there to keep him at a distance. On the contrary. A rope is a tool to do whatever you want with it. And whenever you want.

But do not worry. Jaśmin is not here to be bullied. The merchant says he brought it from a peasant. He was born somewhere in a shed and then released to green pastures. He ran and tramped over them with all his strength in his horse’s legs. If he knew what would be in a few days, perhaps he would have been running to the horizon and beyond. He raced with the wind, counted nights and mornings, knew the shade of trees, and dived into the lush grass a million times in the spring. Jaśmin was convinced that this is what life is like. Oh, how mistaken he was …

One day they came for him, destroyed his little paradise on a December afternoon. They pulled him from the pasture by force, where he had left the shade of trees irretrievably and the white snow that enveloped hectares of pasture. He left his faith that the world is beautiful. He left his yesterday and his tomorrow. Because nothing would ever be the same for Jaśmin again.

There are many farms in Poland that breed horses for slaughter. So all horses that come into the world have a sentence before they are even born. Jaśmin is such a horse. He never had a plan B for him. It was never meant to be anything other than the way it is.

I come even closer. The rope has run out. Jaśmin glances at me, his eyes are getting bigger and bigger. However, a taut rope will never break. These ropes hold horses to their end. Finally he lets go, bows his head, and it touches my knees. I stroke his ears for a moment, then touch his bruised, bloody eye. The trader hastily adds: “he hit himself somewhere, it’s stupid like a shoe, you see, miss, it’s just a shot in the head and it’s gone.” My disbelief that he hit himself doesn’t matter. I stroke him over the snores once more. And I reluctantly step back to the exit. Jaśmin is left there alone, in the middle of the world that has long ago passed judgment on him.

I am leaving. It’s already dark. The remnants of snow glazed on the road, and the sky goes black and illuminates with a few stars. I wonder, do the stars know about Jaśmin? Will the heaven cry when they take him? Will anybody notice that the rope is hanging loose and that around the barn is quiet and empty?

Probably no one will notice. Because this is just one of the millions that will increase the statistics. And once a man said that the death of an individual is a tragedy. But the deaths of millions are just statistics. Jaśmin will increase the statistics in a few days. Can you help get him out of this barn before that happens?