As a horse trainer, Ginger Gaffney spent her days “teaching horses how to feel comfortable in the world of humans.” Then she was offered a task that truly changed her life: work with a small group of recovering addicts on a prison ranch in northern New Mexico. The situation on the ranch was dire: the horses that lived there were out of control, ganging up and attacking residents, trampling them seemingly without provocation. The residents were terrified.
Half Broke is the story of how Gaffney brought these groups—horses and humans, both coming from situations of abuse and trauma—together again. Gaffney’s the master of her material, using finely honed language to show readers all the subtleties of equine and human behavior, subtleties that determine whether one will be trusted, whether one will be a friend or an enemy. This is one of the most astonishing memoirs I’ve ever read, in that it exposes a way of perceiving the world that I hadn’t imagined.
Ramona: How long have you been writing, and why did you decide to get your MFA?
Ginger : I’ve been writing since college, and soon after college I did a 2-year apprenticeship with a small poetry press that published first chapbooks of unpublished poets. After that apprenticeship I considered going back to school but a voice inside me kept saying, “You need to live in order to write.” So, I did that living and built a great life around horses. Then I was asked to help at the re-sentencing ranch I write about in Half Broke. That worked changed my life.
I went on to get my MFA about three years after I started working at the ranch. I was seeking out some way to keep growing. My horse work was wonderful, but there was something missing. My partner, Glenda, always had belief in my writing. She kept encouraging me to write. She is the one who supported me in making that decision.
Ramona: You wrote in Half Broke: “I learned to listen with my eyes.” Would you call this a skill or an instinct? Can anyone learn it?
Ginger: There are many people like me, I believe. We are watchers, not talkers. We “listen” to gestures, to small body movements, wrinkles in the corner of mouths. I don’t think of it as an instinct or a skill, really. It is just what comes naturally to me. And yes, I think it can in part be learned. But mostly, I think it is something people are born into. I don’t think we know everything about how we inherit traits from our DNA, from ancestors we never knew. But I think this approach to listening/communication, I think it comes from something far back inside us. As far back as when we were a bit more like an animal than human.
Ramona: After your experience at the ranch, do you think it is easier for a horse to learn to trust than it is for a human?
Ginger : I think trauma does a number on both horse and human. So, if you are a young colt, in the hands of a gentle and knowledgeable horse owner, trust will come easy for you. And the same thing can be said about a child. But if the situation is not like this, not supportive, not honest, traumatic—many things will remain difficult for a long time for both human and horse.
Ramona: One of the things that struck me about Half Broke is how honest horses are, and how in handling horses you found your place to stand in the world. Do you still find it challenging to deal with the deceptive nature of human relations, in contrast to that of horses? It must be difficult also for the recovering addicts who learn to work with horses but still have to succeed in the world of human relations.
Ginger : Working at the re-sentencing ranch with the residents for over seven years has given me a lot of hope in our human condition. I find I can open up and be myself around people much more easily. I have more confidence in the good inside people. There are still people who can be difficult for me, but I get less and less affected by them. In general, being among a group of people trying their best to be accountable for their actions, who treat each other respectfully, who no longer live out the patterns of their old addictions, I feel like this experience has given me one of the biggest gifts of my life.
When the residents finish their term on the ranch, they go back into the world looking for work and for a safe place to live. What I’ve heard them say frequently is how so many of us here on the outside (those of us who have never been to prison) have no respect for one another. Have no work ethic. Have no gratitude for the lives we have been given. They are shocked at how undisciplined we are. How we don’t hold ourselves accountable to our family, work, and relationships. This kind of fresh witness to of our “normal” world should be listened to.
Ramona: Do you know what the long-term effects of interacting with the horses have been for the residents? Recovery rate? Employment? Having stable relationships?
Ginger : I do know quite a few people who are now finished with their time at the ranch and are living wonderful lives. Some have married, others have stable friendships and relationships. This ranch in particular has a great rate of recovery. Much, much better than the standard 30- to 90-day programs.
You have hit on some key areas with this question. A person who is truly in recovery can have relationships again. People can learn they are trustworthy. They can reunite with family. They are able to hold down a good steady job, and often become a key employee for the company they work for. People who are truly in recovery are some of the most beautiful people to spend time with.
Ramona: How do you stay centered in your writing despite the wrenching problems of the people and horses you work with?
Ginger : That is easy for me. I try to write from the center of my emotional memory. And if I stay there long enough, hope is never very far away. Because even when some devastating things occur—say, we get word someone who has left the ranch overdosed or committed suicide—the thing is we look to each other and we pick each other up. One person, one day at a time. I try to keep my writing that close, too. One person, one horse, our simple daily failures, our simple daily triumphs. For me, that’s the only place I know to write from.
Ramona: After reading Half Broke, I tend to think there’s no such thing as “recovered,” that every day is a recovery day for an addict. Would you agree?
Ginger : I’m not an addict so I can’t fully say. But I know quite a few beautifully recovering people who do talk about how difficult it is day to day. But also how grateful they are now to be sober and clean. I would say, yes, recovery is a verb. It is ongoing, yet as time goes by, it is a blessing to be truly sober, to be alcohol and drug free. There are not too many people who live this way. When you meet one, they just shine.
Ramona: Are you still working with people in recovery?
Ginger: Right now, I am not. I worked at the ranch for seven years. After that I spent two years developing a long-term recovery farm nearby my home for a different organization. I’m back to working horses every day and absolutely loving it. I think I need the break from working in recovery right now. I’m busy working on my next book. It has similar themes. And it is also a book about what recovery can really look like. So it’s good to not be working and at the same time writing about recovery.
Ginger Gaffney’s book Half Broke, is available from independent book stores(on line as well as brick and mortar) also on amazon.