Want to know what its like to be a foreigner walking in Accra? You are stared at by friendly but curious people who often return your hello with a generous smile. Want to take the attention off yourself? Simple: Walk with your large black dog and then, frankly, you could be a six-legged fire-breathing purple person for all anyone would know.
Item 1: It’s hard to be certain but I think the puppy was probably 5 or 6 weeks old. It was so tiny that it fit easily in the palm of my hand. It had a few scabs and sores on its back, and it was so dirty that I spent a second wondering how many fleas were preparing to leap from its body to mine. When I set the little furball down on the ground it stayed in one place, didn’t try to explore or play, and seemed pretty lethargic. I inquired about the pup’s gender and what name the owner was giving it. It’s a boy, I was told, but it won’t be given a name because the little thing is to be raised for food. It will live to be about 6 months old. Before I could stop myself I blurted that if the puppy was given a name then perhaps they won’t want to kill it — a suggestion that produced an uncomfortable silence.
Item 2: I don’t think we’re to blame for what happened, I really don’t. We both distinctly heard the woman make the hissing sound that means “come here.” Seriously, I’m telling you that she looked straight at the two of us and at our dog, Chai, and definitely, unmistakably, no doubt about it, hissed an invitation to us to come near. Yet when she realized we were, indeed, responding to her summons, the woman screamed — as in, use the full capacity of your lungs to create total frigging maximum volume vocal chord output type-screams — then grabbed her infant and ran into her shop. While she cowered behind her shop counter the shopkeepers on either side of her doubled over laughing. I’m pretty sure that they are going to spend the rest of the week taking the piss out of her for this. Not that any of her neighbours wanted to get near our dog either.
Item 3: The Bush Canteen is a collection of shops and restaurants at the edge of campus. As we walked with Chai through its narrow, muddy lanes the woman behind the heavy grill cooking fish said that she would like to eat our red goat. Goat meat is pale and grey. Dog meat is red. Enough said.
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| Our red goat is not allowed in KK's house |
Item 4: Here is how walking your dog in Accra is just like walking your dog at home: Use a leash and walk with the dog on your left in standard heel position. Here is how it’s different than home (besides a poop bag being a superfluous accessory): Note that the Ghanaian walking toward you has begun to stare fixedly at the dog, and may even cross to the other side of the street. (If you are traveling toward a Ghanaian on a path that runs through a field, you have now put that person in a position of having to decide whether its riskier to stay on the path and face the dog or step into the grass and chance bothering a snake.) You call out, “Don’t worry, she’s friendly.” This invariably elicits two reactions. One of these is the offer of a relieved smile and, perhaps, a few questions about what type of dog this is, where we are from, and, from the deeply brave (I am not exaggerating) perhaps a little tentative patting. The faces of those who remain fearful most resemble someone who has been invited to French kiss a starving piranha. No chance, no way, no how, are they are coming anywhere near the dog.
On the other hand….
Item 5: Yesterday I called to a man walking toward me that the dog was friendly. He replied, “Yes, I know.” Surprised, I asked him how it was that he was so sure. “Because,” he said, “if the dog was dangerous it would be in chains and shackles.” Eeeew-kay, roger that.
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| Neither chains nor shackles |
Item 6: I was walking toward the vegetable stand on Noguchie Link Road when I heard someone call out, “Is that a Labradoodle?” Huh? Even in Canada, where her type is relatively common, more often than not we have to tell people what Chai’s lineage is. I turned and found Shawn, a dog lover with a wide grin, leaning against his Toyota sedan. Apparently he had been playing a pick-up game when Chai and I walked past the basketball court. Shawn so wanted to confirm that he had correctly guessed Chai’s breed that he followed us in his car. We spent a few minutes discussing the pros and cons of what Shawn called designer dogs before parting.
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| Designer dog |
Item 7: The first time Chai encountered the grounds keeping crew she bounded over to them with the same robust enthusiasm she extends most humans. And as far as I can tell, the dog understood that when they shrieked and hid between the polytank and the wall, that they were playing some sort of game. How fabulous! A game! That’s how I found them – three cowering adult men waving their arms and shouting in Twi, and one excited dog whose prey instinct was way, way whipped up. I explained she’s friendly, had Chai sit and invited the gents to shake her paw, which was all it took for them to fall in love. Now all the grounds crew and security guards ask about her when she isn’t around (“where’s my friend”) and insist on shaking a paw when she is.
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| Winning over Ghanaians one gardener at a time |
