Tragedy seems to befall the
dogs of Mozambique.
In our neighborhood,
especially, the bodies seem to be piling up.
First, it was Bwino’s mother. Soon
after we adopted our 6-week old puppy, his mother was stoned to death by a
family who accused her of stealing food.
Next, it was Bwino’s brothers and sisters, who died from parasites and
malnutrition. In February, it was “Dog,”
the mother of the puppies next door. She
was poisoned and, the following night, her puppies were stolen from the
outhouse where they slept.
After the untimely death of
“Dog,” there was brief, peaceful lull.
Recently, though, the turmoil has resurfaced.
Seni, who is our waterboy, yard
sweeper, house watcher, and ear to the ground, brought us a piece of worrisome
news—
“They’re going to kill
Bwino.”
This—the threat against Bwino
specifically—took us entirely by
surprise. I’d actually thought, in the
way of most mothers and caregivers, that my puppy was perfect and that
everybody else loved him as much as I did.
Walking around the bairro, I would
often hear a chorus of neighborhood children shouting, “bwino-bwino-bwino!” What I didn’t realize, though, was that when
I wasn’t looking, “bwino-bwino-bwino”
often ended with a resounding kick to his little puppy gut.
“Listen,” said Seni. “Bwino
is just too friendly. You are too nice
to him. You have to be more strict with
him to teach him fear. All of the
neighbors hate him because he steals food.
They say that they are going to put poison in his food to try to kill
him.”
All of this, of course, we
didn’t know. While the voice of Zobue is
always audible (in fact, it grumbles incessantly),
it speaks primarily in Nyungwe. Dan and I can listen as hard as we like, but we
will never understand.
Our first step was simply to feed
the dog more food. We assumed that if
Bwino was eating three giant meals a day, he wouldn’t be tempted to “share”
food with the neighbors. That seemed to
be working until we learned that Bwino was now unloading some of his extra
waste into the yards of some of our neighbors.
One of these neighbors, a thirty-year
old homemaker with four kids, called Seni into her yard to have a serious chat
in Nyungwe.
“This dog,” she said. “Has to stop.
This is the third time that he has made a mess in my yard. If he dies, you or his owners won’t be able
to say anything against me, because
you have been warned.”
Well, that was a new
problem. How could we stop a free-range
puppy from defecating underneath a neighbor’s mango tree?
Dan and I started taking
Bwino for a walk every morning, in an effort to coax out some of the offending
mess. It didn’t seem to matter,
though. All of the other puppies poop beneath
the mango tree, too. It was all getting
blamed on Bwino.
Then, on Sunday night, something
terrible happened. On our porch, under a
bucket, Dan and I found a fistful of xima
loaded with broken glass. It was clearly
left there for the dog.
Things had escalated to a
point of real danger.
In the meantime, Seni’s dog,
Diana, fell sick. She had been growing
increasingly thin after giving birth a few weeks ago, but we thought that she
was just suffering from post-partum complications. Then, she started coming home at night with
wounds and scabs from where she had been beaten. She started limping and then, unexpectedly,
lost all nerve function on her left-hand side.
She started walking in circles.
She was too weak to climb up our stairs and would stare at us from the
sunny patches in our front yard, shivering and holding her head at an
increasingly cocked angle.
Last night, two of her
puppies died. In their lair, Seni found
a plate full of xima with broken
glass.
It’s now become a race of
detective work—to identify the dog killers and to appeal for help from our
district superiors before our dog gets seriously injured. Unfortunately, though, I don’t know how much
that will help. Our Director’s dog was
poisoned and killed, just last week.
How absolutely horrible! I am hoping something can be done to help - Mozambican culture concerning dogs is not very friendly. We even saw this in the capital frequently.
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