Shaka, the skinny mutt, looks at me with her kind, hazel eyes. She’s starving, but she never begs.
She sleeps on the step in front of my rondavel, trying to grab some warmth from the gap under my door.
When I’m ready for my sunrise walk, Shaka, clings to my heels. I don’t want her to follow me. I want to be alone, in my own thoughts as I take a brisk walk downhill, to the village clinic, and push myself on the uphill trek home.
This is my time to meditate and enjoy the cool, crisp morning air.
“Stop!” I command, palm facing her.
“Go home!”
Shaka stops and sits down. I’m impressed. She obeys, and a few minutes later, she’s back at my heel.
“I don’t want Shaka, despite my love of dogs. She’s not my dog, and I made the “mistake” of feeding her dry bread soaked in sour milk, the only leftovers I had from last week’s grocery shopping in Maseru. Shaka eats anything. I wonder how many meals before her skeleton no longer pokes through her skin.
“Go home!” I repeat.
I hurry down the hill, no longer enjoying the peace and quiet I was longing for. Stress sets in as I pray that we do not pass any blanket-clad Ntates.
Shaka has chosen to protect me, and believes that any man wearing the traditional blanket, has evil intentions. Last time, Shaka charged towards Ntate covered from neck to toe, in his traditional Basotho blanket. She snarled, and I thought she would bite his hand as he bent over to grab a rock. In Lesotho, people pick up stones when they fear a dog approaching. I could not stand the thought of her being injured.
Shaka is not my dog. She is Mary’s dog.
An expat friend warned me, “If the dog walks with you, everyone assumes she’s your dog, and you are responsible for any medical bills.”
I don’t want that responsibility. I already take care of the orphans at my school, and do not want to adopt a dog at this time.
I told Mary about the incident. She laughed, and said she would feed Shaka.
“I only make enough papa for myself. When my family comes, there will be enough to feed her,” she says.
“What are we going to do about Shaka now?”
“Don’t worry,” she replies.
The following morning, I find Shaka on my doorstep again.
I am torn between wanting to exercise, and having Shaka follow me, yet again.
I cannot stand the stress.
I decide to risk it, and go for a walk keeping my fingers crossed that no Ntates will be walking close by.
We make it home, and I ask Mary to either feed Shaka, or find someone else who wants to keep Shaka.
She knows that in America, people love dogs, and keep them indoors.
Mary fills Shaka’s bowl and says, “She will be a good guard dog.” I just hope she continues feeding her, and that Shaka will see Mary as her rightful owner.
Every time you find Shaka on your doorstep just take her back to Mary’s house and tie her to the doorknob or to Mary’s washing line, then walk off. If anyone comments tell them she’s Mary’s dog. You could also talk to the village witch-doctor and ask if Mary’s had him tell the dog to follow you. He might be able to make it stay with Mary.
Alternatively just ignore Shaka when you go walking, or toss a few rocks in her general direction to persuade her you’re not worth following.
Ian,
This may sound strange, but I don’t have rope, and no one has a leash here. I was happpy that Mary put a rug in front of her own door for Shaka to sleep on, as I asked her to. This morning, there was no Shaka in front of either one of our doors. Shaka turned up later.
Sonia Marsh recently posted..A Hardship I Did Not Expect
I had a similar problem when I worked for Interns for Peace in Israel. I lived in an Israeli Arab village during that time. The neighbors in back of me had two dogs. One was large and supposedly good for hunting. The other one was too small to be useful for anything but cuddling. I would watch how the two dogs would forage and drag home anything possible to eat in the yard. I never saw them being fed. They were both very, very skinny. I couldn’t stand it. I bought and cooked liver for them. And I washed the small dog because he was so filthy. The little children in the village liked to torment the little dog. They kicked him and, when he lay in the space between my window and the shutters, they would close the shutters on him. The little one began to follow me. This was not good since people did not appreciate the little one coming. I got to the uncomfortable point where I tried sneaking out of the house so the dog didn’t see me leave. My supervisor was quite upset at the way I treated the dogs because it did not fit the culture, especially when I petted the dogs who sat on an old couch on my back porch. Because of tensions in what is known as the first Intifada, my car was bombed in the night near my house. Neighbors woke me up after the fire truck had left. After everyone else had gone back to bed, I went to give my poor, blackened car a kind of goodbye because we had been good companions. Next to the car sat the little dog to comfort me in the cold of the night. Yes, I agree that the treatment of animals is a very big problem for those of us in cultures that consider especially dogs our best friends.
What an amazing story Suellen. I’m glad you understand my dilemma, and it is difficult to explain certain things to people who have not eperienced life in rural Africa. Even my son said, “Mom, just train the dog.”
Sonia Marsh recently posted..A Hardship I Did Not Expect
Interesting note — When I returned to the Village over a year later just for a visit, the family with the dogs wanted me to know that they had put the little dog with a nice family that was taking good care of him. And my supervisor told me that my behavior toward the dogs made him rethink an old fear and loathing he had for dogs after he had been bitten by one. China and Korea where dogs were meat were also very tough places to be a dog lover.
What a wonderful ending to your story Suellen. Mary is now feeding Shaka as well. She knows that in America, we treat dogs as our loving pets.
Sonia Marsh recently posted..A Hardship I Did Not Expect
What a dilemma…Personally, I would stop feeding the dog, and follow Ian Mathie’s advice!
Carol,
That’s what I’m doing. Mary fed him yesterday, and put a mat for the dog to sleep on, in front of her own door.
Sonia Marsh recently posted..A Hardship I Did Not Expect
As others have said, I wouldn’t feed the dog anymore. I know it will be hard not to, but it’s for the best.
Thanks Miles. I have decided not to feed her, and fortunately, Mary started giving Shaka food.