ATHENS, Greece — Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, a smile spreads across the little girl’s face. Blinking behind her glasses, she inches her wheelchair forward and gently reaches out to stroke the tiny gray horse.
Soon, 9-year-old Josifina Topa Mazuch is beaming as she leads Ivi, a specially trained miniature horse, standing no taller than her pink wheelchair, through the school hallway.
“I really want them to come again,” Josifina said of Ivi and a second miniature horse, Calypso, after a November morning visit to her Athens primary school for children with special needs. “They made me feel really happy.”
Ivi and Calypso are two of eight miniature horses from Gentle Carousel Greece, a Greek offshoot of Florida-based charity Gentle Carousel Miniature Therapy Horses offering visits to hospitals, rehabilitation centers and care homes.
Trained over two years to work comfortably in confined environments and with vulnerable children and adults, the tiny equines, which stand about 75 centimeters (30 inches) tall, provide a form of pet therapy that carers say offers valuable interactions and learning experiences, particularly to people confined to hospitals or care homes.
But the charity they are part of is struggling to make ends meet — run by one woman who funds the entire operation herself, with one assistant and no support team.
Started in 2014 by Mina Karagianni, an interior architect and designer, the Athens operation is the only one affiliated with the Florida-based charity outside the United States. Karagianni came across Gentle Carousel while scouring the internet for information on caring for an abandoned Shetland pony she had rescued.
When she saw photos of the charity’s work in pediatric oncology wards, “I was touched and I was moved, and I said: ‘OK, we have to bring this to Greece,’” she said.
It took months to track down and persuade the U.S. charity to work with her, and even longer to obtain the requisite permits and arrange transport to bring the horses over. But after incessant efforts, six already trained miniature horses stepped off a flight from Florida via Frankfurt in November 2013.
Entirely self-funded through her day job, Karagianni now has a total of eight horses — the American six, one that was later born in Greece, and Billy, the rescued pony.
Karagianni transformed her family land in Rafina, a seaside area east of Athens, into Magic Garden, complete with stables, a paddock for the horses to run free every day, a small café and an area to host children’s parties and baptisms.
At the time, she was open for visits every weekend, charging a small entrance fee to help cover running costs – specialized food for the horses, wood shavings for their bedding, grooming material, veterinarian visits and transportation to and from hospitals and care homes. She also began visiting schools and setting up an education program.
From 2014 when Gentle Carousel Greece first opened until the first COVID-19 lockdowns in 2020, Karagianni said her little equine team saw roughly 12,000 children.
But the lockdowns took their toll. Karagianni had to shut down the café and hasn’t been able to re-open since.
With even the tiny income from the café drying up, and Karagianni herself facing a health issue that took her out for 1 ½ years, “we fell apart,” she said. Unable to meet utility bills, both the electricity and water companies cut off her supply, leaving her relying on neighbors for water for the horses.
“I’m just starting to get myself back together again now,” she said. “With a lot of financial difficulties. But what can I do? I’m trying.”
She’s got the utilities running again, but still owes thousands of euros. Approaches to companies and institutions for funding have been unsuccessful so far. “Maybe I just don’t know how to ask properly,” Karagianni said.
Running Gentle Carousel single-handedly is taking its toll. “I’m making super-human efforts,” said Karagianni, who at 68 wonders for how long she can go on and is searching for someone to ensure the program’s continuity.
“I’m doing what I can. But I can’t do it alone,” she said. “I can’t do it without a team.”
Despite her financial struggles, Karagianni said seeing the horses’ effect, particularly on children, makes her determined to continue for as long as she can.
During a visit to the Athens special needs primary school, staff lined up children in wheelchairs so each could spend a few moments with the horses. Some reached out to stroke them; others bent their heads forward over the miniature horses for a kiss.
“It’s incredible, the reactions. It’s like something awakens their senses,” said special needs teacher Eleni Volikaki.
The state-run school, which shares facilities with a private charity for disabled children, ELEPAP, caters to children aged 6-14 with cognitive or mobility problems, or both. Anything that encourages the children to make even small hand gestures, such as reaching out to stroke a horse, “is very important for us. Especially when it’s spontaneous and comes directly from the child and isn’t instigated by us,” Volikaki said.
“We saw things we didn’t expect. We saw children with autism, or children who are generally afraid of animals, coming very close, letting the ponies get close to them,” Volikaki said. “And we saw … spontaneous contact that under other circumstances we wouldn’t see.”
The tiny horses don’t just enchant children.
In the seaside area of Nea Makri northeast of Athens, residents of an adult psychiatric care home gather to greet Omiros – Homer in Greek – a 12-year-old miniature gray and white stallion with a flowing mane and blue eyes.
Some show their excitement at the long-anticipated visit. Others are shyer at first, but nearly all eventually approach Omiros, leading him around the home’s recreation room or simply whispering to him.
The interaction is invaluable, said social worker Alex Krokidas, who heads the staff at the Iasis home.
“It offers, even if only briefly, the chance to create a bond that isn’t threatening, that has tenderness, quietness,” Krokidas said. “Let’s not forget, these people have faced many difficulties in their lives.”
Meeting Omiros and having a few moments each with him “gives them the opportunity to be a bit calmer, to not feel threatened, to stroke the animal,” Krokidas said. “All of that is very therapeutic, it is deeply therapeutic.”
Giorgos, one of the residents, initially kept his distance before letting Omiros come close. He leaned his head near the flowing mane.
“He gave me a beautiful feeling when he was here,” he said after Omiros headed back into the recreation room. “Now that it’s gone, I feel an absence.”
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Associated Press writer Lefteris Pitarakis contributed to this report.
