*peace corps life with a tanzanian dog
If a Tanzanian were to read a Kiswahili translated version of Marley & Me, he or she would probably think that it was a fictional tale…something that could have never happened to a human being on this earth. Maybe they would have elevated it to a story as tangible as Harry Potter, or Jurassic Park*. After being here for a year and a half and knowing the extremely different views that Tanzanians and Americans hold toward pets, one day in August, I impulsively “bought” a puppy from a neighbor in my village. (they asked for 1000 shillings for her, which is less than a dollar) When asked why I did this by some of my friends in the village, my response was simply, “cuz she’s sooooo cute!!” They usually ignored that, assuming I was joking, and skipped straight to the matter of “When she’s big and vicious, can you give her to me so she can guard my house?” This request still happens anytime someone new sees my dog with me, they ask for her, in an almost kiswahili Borat way of “how muchhhh?? i liiiikeee-a-very-muchhh!!” I’ve had my cat, Pilipili, for over a year, but never really got comfortable (aka loved) him. After he came of age and took an unannounced three week long journey to sew his seed with the entire female cat population in Ilembo, I could never look at him the same. His teeth are incredibly sharp, he’s huge, and has terrifying ninja-like moves at night that scare the crap out of me. I’ll just be trying to make guacamole by candlelight and BOOM! Lights out, and before I know it he’s already climbed halfway up my body, chasing down the avocado that’s in my hand.
Pili pili did a good job at keeping the rats at bay, and to him, I was like an open house that had free food and drink; a place he could pop back into when the nights were too cold, or if the hunting and love searching weren’t going so well. He thought he was the best thing that could’ve happened to any pet owner. So you can imagine his surprise when he returns one night to find a puppy, smaller than himself, asleep in my lap, being showered with more attention in just a few minutes than he was given in the past year. As Raha tried to initiate a friendship by smelling Pilipili’s buttocks, Pilipili took offense and within milliseconds lept into his ultra-scary hiss and pounce mode. When it came time to feed them, I feared the worst. They both eat the exact same food – dagaa – tiny little dried fish, along with ugali or rice –and, as I’d feared, things got really ugly. Hissing and barking and other sounds of imminent death or at least serious injury occurred at each feeding time, and I though I might have to choose one over the other. Of course, I already knew I’d choose the puppy I’d had for 6 hours over the cat I’d had for a year. I’m a dog person. I guess things could have turned out differently if I were allowed to keep the little abondoned kittens I found in our shed when I was in 4th grade on Tinkerhill Road. But, due to my brother Frank’s “allergies” (read: My mother HATES cats), after I nursed them back to health and got them used to humans, I was forced to give them away. About a year later, we got Binker, the lovable, excitable chocolate lab (may she rest in peace in Perryville, Maryland) from the Amish farm, and the rest is history.
Anyway, to make a long story short, Raha, whose name means “joy” or “happiness”, was allowed to sleep in my bed the first night while Pilipili didn’t enjoy that luxury until the third month. Since I returned from visiting the states for two and a half weeks, however, I have not seen Pilipili with my own eyes..I’ve only heard tales from the secondary students who live in the hostel across the valley that he came by to beg for some ugali and that he was looking rather strong and fierce (in kiswahli = kali), so I have to assume that he’s doing well and is happy as a wandering bachelor. My house is suffering the consequences of his absence, however, as I now hear the rats running over everything at night and in the morning see their little droppings that they somehow release with such precision. One even sat upon the edge of a 1.5 liter water bottle cap, which is about less than an inch in diameter. Needless to say, I’m beginning to miss the perks of having a cat, but have no regrets whatsoever about getting a dog. Raha follows me everywhere and that creates simultaneously the most terrifying combination for small children and the most entertaining for adults in Ilembo: white person walking with a dog. Most of the kids who are of primary school age love playing with Raha, and they always ask where she is and constantly yell her name, trying to get her to chase them. It’s hard trying to explain to Tanzanians that most dogs in American homes are allowed to sleep inside and are viewed as protectors AND friends..most of them just think I’m crazy…my counterparts Nahasibu and Stephano have been good sports, though, and let Raha jump up on them and play with her whenever they see her. Then of course there’s Sikitu, more commonly known as Skittles, who takes care of Raha when I’m gone. Skittles is a student in the OVC sewing program and does a great job looking after her, although I don’t know how much longer either of us can keep Raha from joining some of these gangs of dogs I see walking around Ilembo at dusk, constantly looking for new young recruits. I hear them at night sometimes, not so much barking but shrieking as they’re most likely fighting another gang of dogs. I think she’ll be street smart though and stay neutral since at least she’s getting fed at home. The rest of the dogs need to work for it.
Raha’s hobbies include: chasing chickens, chasing goats, chasing children, eating cow feces, retrieving jaw bones of cows or goats and bringing them back to the house, eating dagaa and avocados, tearing up toilet paper, interrupting health seminars and community theatre performances, and barking at birds.
