Slum Dogs

Photo by: Tara Burke

For those of you who know me well, you’re probably wondering if I’ve been playing with any of the local dogs, right?  During my Rwanda trip in March, I think I encountered at most 3 dogs the entire time I was there because they were all mass-euthanized after the genocide.  Here, there’s an entirely different relationship with dogs and animals in general.  I keep recalling Caesar Milan’s book where he talks about how dogs in the US tend to be unbalanced mentally and emotionally, but that dogs that live with homeless people are well balanced.  Despite the way Americans pamper our pets, we don’t generally provide for their biological, dare I say Darwinian, needs.  So, today my mind is with the township dogs.  I’ve seen very few dogs on leashes here.  To be perfectly stereotypical, 90% of those I’ve seen on leashes here are running with white people.  The other 10% looked a bit skinny and like fighting dogs- scarred and dragged along on metal slip collars by people in alleyways.  The rest of the dogs in the country- the majority by far- roam about the townships digging through trash, pooping in the small green spaces, and basking in the sun in front of corrugated metal shacks.  They don’t seem particularly thin, I’ve never seen any of them fighting, and they all seem relatively well accepted within their human communities.  Yesterday, as we were driving through one of the townships, we turned a corner and I noticed the corner shop (I don’t know what they were selling) was filled with wooden tables against each of the walls.  The width of the shack was probably no more than 8 feet across.  The wooden tables were broad, like the kind you might see in a high school science classroom, and had another wooden shelf across the bottom about a foot off the ground.  One similar but smaller table also stood in the middle of the shop (at least, it looked like a shop because it had no front wall…).  As we turned the corner, I saw a giant white dog lope across the road to the shop.  As he neared it, he stepped right up onto the bottom shelf of the table in the middle of the shop and curled up to go to sleep.  Then I noticed that under all of the tables, there were 2 dogs on each shelf curled up sleeping- no walls, just shelf.  There were about 6 dogs on the lower shelves of all the tables in the shop and the men squeezing around the tables inside seemed unconcerned with them.  I don’t know that many of these dogs necessarily “belong” to anyone so much as congregate regularly in certain areas.  I find their seamless integration with the human community fascinating- and they seem so content.

Photo by: Tara Burke

Later, we made our way to a Desmund Tutu HIV prevention research facility.  Apparently the guard there loves dogs, so he puts out food and water for them.  Two of the dogs from outside the gate topped with curled barbed wire followed us in and made themselves cozy on the front patio.  They were so ridiculously friendly.  One cocked his head to the side and wagged his tail so hard he could barely stand up- the other rolled over and showed her belly.  Even as we walked away, she waited to see if we’d come back to smother her with love.  Out of nowhere, a little black dog came off the streets demanding some attention.  She mouthed my hand a little because I was petting a different dog.  The interesting part about all of this is not just that they’re all so friendly and well balanced, it’s also that before leaving the US, all of our doctors warned us that we should’ve been getting rabies shots and not to touch any animals while we were here.  I refused the rabies shot, so I’ve been avoiding all the dogs.  They look a little tattered, so you never know.  Just like when I was in India, though I love dogs, I pretty much avoided even making eye contact with dogs while in the slums (lest I should be tempted to pet them all)…I couldn’t resist these township dogs today though.  They were so filthy their fur was extra thick- but totally worth getting in a little doggy time. :)  We’re so sheltered and germaphobic coming from the safety of our own privileged country.  Somehow the dogs bring me back down to earth.  “Things aren’t so bad here in the townships,” they seem to say as they waggle up to you, head lowered down in a submissive, playful doggy glance.  They scavenge for their food- carrying plastic trash down the street to lick clean in the comfort of a warm, cozy cement stoop- they get attention from the locals.  Life is so different for them than the life my fat chihuahuas at home lead.  But, I don’t think they’d be happy coming home with me.  There’s a freedom I see in their ability to walk in and out of spaces here.  They don’t worry about security like we do, they don’t seem to fear people or mistreatment, and, at least in this part of the world, they are not considered a food source.  My travel companions don’t agree with me that this is a great life for them- but you can’t put a price on freedom :)
Enough of my doggy ranting- I’ll try to post some pictures of them when I get some time later.