Mrs. Steen

Sometimes when the volunteers sneak in at night after having been out on the town or out for a late meal, we tiptoe inside, shush the dogs before they start to bark and howl too loud, and start up the stairs—afraid of waking Mrs. Steen, whose bed is in the living room downstairs. However, even when we creep in at 3:00 in the morning, there she sits in her little straight-backed chair; her smiling face illuminated by the blue, wan light of the TV. She sits holding two of her favorite tiny dogs named Kiwi and Hoppy, who are close to bursting with excitement at seeing us after our late-night excursions. We say goodnight and ascend the stairs to our beds.

Surrounded by the eerie, sighing screeches of the night owls sits the night owl herself, Mrs. Steen. Once I settle into my own bed and try not to focus on the soft sounds of the TV downstairs, I always think to myself, “There is more to this woman than I know.”

Every animal on the estate—all 21 dogs, 10 cats, 30 horses, 50 birds, 2 chinchillas—has a dramatic story in its past. It is hard to imagine the damaged paths from which they come when you see them gallivanting happily in the yard, eating hearty meals every day, and being loved on by seven volunteers anytime we are near to them. But, if they could talk, Mrs. Steen would be their therapist, their lifeline, and their savior—the keeper of countless rags-to-riches stories that began with animal abuse and neglect and have ended with the animal-heaven that is The Silva Project.

As John Locke once said, “I have always thought the actions of men the best interpreters of their thoughts.” Therefore, I find it easier to illustrate Silvia’s kind disposition by describing the animals that she has saved and the organizations that she has created…

The little dog I mentioned earlier named Hoppy was found half-drowned on the beach in a dust bin. Its entire back right leg had been chewed off by some animal, while the toes of its back left leg and front right leg were also missing. Silvia brought it back to The Silva Project and nursed it back to health, teaching him to walk again on two legs and loving him back into trusting humanity.

Myrto, a small pony at the barn, was bought my Mrs. Steen from a man in Athens who had corralled over 40 horses into one acre-sized pen. Dead and sick horses were mixed in with healthy ones in what can only be described as a hellish instance of animal abuse to which the undeveloped animal control laws of Greece could not bring justice. Sylvia found farm owners all over Greece and encouraged them to buy all of the horses when the man was not incriminated for animal abuse after spending 3 weeks in jail, and almost every horse that he had owned before found a new home and safe haven away from certain death.

Captain is a large horse at the farm who Mrs. Steen rescued on four separate occasions from a man who had left Captain and six other horses tied to olive trees for six months. Luckily, peasants gave the horses water, but Mrs. Steen bought all six of the horses from the man to save them from starvation and neglect. The man stole the horses from Mrs. Steen on three separate occasions, but she finally was able to convince authorities to lock down on him. She sold every horse but Captain, who had a severe hoof deformity. He is now in full heath and used in adult therapeutic riding lessons whenever possible.

Mrs. Steen also founded a school for mentally and physically disabled students in Athens over 40 years ago. The school is still in existence, and over 200 students between the ages of 6 and 24 attend it daily to participate in art classes, computer classes, pottery lessons, and wood-working lessons. She still serves on the board of the school and it has proved to be a great success that I’m sure has made a lasting imprint on the lives of the countless students that have passed through its lush, sprawling campus.

So even when I see Mrs. Steen sitting in her chair during the wee hours of the morning, smiling happily with her two-legged dog in hand, I cannot be tempted to think of her as a simple woman with a simple life. Because, when I look closer, I see the deep-set wrinkles beside her eyes that tell stories of happiness and joy, and I feel the delicious food she has made for me in my stomach, I see children’s art around the house that is evidence of her motherhood, and if I listen very closely, I can hear the whispers of the untold stories—the countless animals and people that her actions have saved and shaped. She is a gardener of inspiration.