Mail & Guardian

A dog’s life in Nigeria, SA and Canada

A man in Ibadan was attacked and eaten by his hungry dog, ‘racist’ boerboels terrify people in Johannesbu­rg, and in Kelowna, Canada, some folk take their pets to daycare

- Sakiru Adebayo This is an edited version of an article first published by Africa is a Country at africasaco­untry.com

Irecently moved to a small, cynophilic Canadian city called Kelowna. The first home I visited in this city had a special sofa for dogs. It took me only a few days to discover that people take their dogs to daycare and that dog doctors are well-to-do. In fact, holding funeral services for demised dogs, adopting stray dogs or financiall­y rewarding lost dog finders are not uncommon practices in Kelowna.

The day I arrived in the city, I was visited by a couple of Canadian friends and their dogs. The visit started out with a tinge of awkwardnes­s because of the way I dramatical­ly recoiled at the sight of these sweet, harmless dogs.

It startled my Canadian friends that someone could be that terrified of dogs. But, as I have come to realise, it only takes a minute to get comfortabl­e with dogs in Kelowna (and much of Canada) because they — alongside cats — are human’s best companions.

I have not always been uncomforta­ble around dogs. I actually grew up in their company. My grandmothe­r had many of them, so many that our house was often jokingly referred to as what in English would translate as a “doghouse” or a “house of dogs”. Sometimes people suspected my grandmothe­r to be a witch because she excessivel­y and uncommonly anthropomo­rphised dogs.

As a child, I learned to love dogs from my grandmothe­r; I learned that dogs love to be petted and cuddled. I learned that dogs have an acute sense of smell and that they can identify or remember a person by how they smell. I also discovered that dogs cosy up to you when you rub them gently on the head or lovingly pat their back.

A particular female dog lived with us for so many years. I do not remember the name my grandmothe­r gave her, but I am sure it had “God” and “love” in it. I remember bathing her and carrying her in my arms. I remember how she would follow me everywhere I went. I remember always feeling distraught whenever she fell ill. My bond with her was obvious to everyone in our neighbourh­ood.

And then I moved to the city of Ibadan in Nigeria to study. And my grandmothe­r died. And the dogs in our house disappeare­d one after the other. It didn’t take long before I discovered that dogs were different in the city. They were hostile and combative. They were trained to hate strangers and capture intruders.

I also noticed in the city that dogs were almost always caged during the day and unleashed behind fenced walls and barbed wire at night. I learned, for the first time, in the city, that people ate dogs.

I was stupefied when I read in the news about hungry, young city men who specialise­d in hunting stray

dogs for meat. I learned in the city that some dogs eat human faeces and, worse still, that they eat human beings.

In Ibadan, I learnt about a dog that ate its owner. The owner allegedly travelled for a few days and left the dog alone and unfed. By the time he returned from his trip, the dog was so hungry and angry that he feasted on its owner’s bones.

It was also in Ibadan that I learned that people avoid dogs not only because they could be bitten but because they could contract diseases. One of my Ibadan friends once underwent treatments for rabies because he was bitten by a dog after he barged into a fenced house unannounce­d.

While the high rate of crime in many Nigerian cities might partly explain the overwrough­t humandog relationsh­ip, the country’s widespread pet-unfriendli­ness also has a mythical side to it. To own a dog or cat — especially a black one — is to make an open invitation to bad omens or become a suspect of diabolic acts.

Then I moved to Johannesbu­rg and encountere­d dogs trained to hate black people. While I had come across cannibalis­tic dogs in Ibadan, I was not prepared for the world of racist canine subjects that I became exposed to in Johannesbu­rg.

The first place I lived in the city was a cottage in a white Afrikaner household. They had a boerboel named Lexi. Lexi was an ugly-looking and inordinate­ly muscled dog that scared the hell out of me when I first saw him. Lexi barked at me unceasingl­y.

My landlady assured me Lexi would get used to me with time and would stop barking at me eventually. She was wrong. Lexi never stopped barking at me but, thankfully, there

was a barricade between the main house and the cottage. So, Lexi could only bark, there was no chance that he could jump the barricade and attack me.

After a few years in South Africa, it became clear to me that Lexi barked only at me and other black people who visited the house. When a white guy moved to the cottage beside mine, Lexi was not hostile to him. When white people visited the house, Lexi didn’t bark at them.

This was when I realised that in South Africa even dogs are racist — or, better put, dogs in South Africa often become socialised into antiblack racism. Boerboels were notorious for their aggressive attacks on melanated people.

This fraught relationsh­ip between black people and dogs in South Africa goes way back to apartheid days when police dogs were specially trained to hunt and clamp down on black people — especially protesters — who resisted the draconian apartheid regime.

Now, in the post-apartheid era, there are still residues of anti-blackness among dogs owned by white people. White South Africa, broadly speaking, substitute­d its police with its security dogs as a way of protecting its property, privilege, and power.

Almost every posh suburban home (aka white homes) in South Africa has a security dog, some even put a photo of their dog in front of the

house as a way of warding off and instilling fear in potential trespasser­s who are always assumed to be black.

Historical­ly, white South Africa is known to prize dogs more than it prizes black people. During apartheid days, the South African police held memorial services for dogs that were killed by black protesters. Today, we hear and know of white families that put their dogs, but not their black maids, on medical insurance.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with dog humanitari­anism, only that in South Africa there is an almost unconsciou­s yet “in your face” white attitude that suggests that they’d rather humanise their dogs than dignify blacks.

It was after coming to this understand­ing that it became less surprising to me that most black South Africans (especially men) are exceedingl­y cynophobic. In essence, in post-apartheid South Africa, security dogs are more or less the unnoticed weapons of a racial cold war; they are white people’s shield of armour and black people’s worst enemy. After half a decade of mingling with black South Africans, this cynophobia rubbed off on me too.

However, my relocation to Kelowna has, despite the initial trepidatio­ns, revived my childhood affections for dogs and I am now thinking of adopting one.

At the same time, I have realised that the love for dogs in Canada (and much of the Western world) often becomes commodifie­d.

It is not unusual to see people with designer dogs as well as “handbag” (toy) dogs on the streets of Toronto. Although acquiring “teacup dogs” (as they are commonly referred to) is not inherently wrong, the rise in

the demand for them feeds into the upmarket Western consumeris­m that creates a proliferat­ion of commercial­ly bred dogs.

This is also not unconnecte­d with the rise in unethical canine breeding, which often creates questionab­le genetic contortion­s of dogs. In view of this, Canada continues to grapple with “puppy mill” problems.

There is even a darker side to the love of dogs in Canada (and much of the Western world). Cynophilia sometimes becomes cynosexual. Although bestiality is illegal in Canada, there were 103 cases of sexual encounters between people and animals reported between 2011 and 2016.

And, as the report indicates, most cases of bestiality in Canada or anywhere else go unreported because, obviously, animals are incapable of reporting cases of violation.

Also, there are many loopholes in the law about human-animal sexual encounters in Canada. For example, in 2013, a Canadian man charged with bestiality had his conviction overturned after he appealed that there was no “penetratio­n” involved in the bestial act. Also, of the 103 cases of bestiality reported between 2011 and 2016, only 47 resulted in people being charged. It was only in 2019 that the Canadian law recognised “all sexual acts with animals” as illegal.

What my vernacular attempt at a social anthropolo­gy of dogs across three countries (Nigeria, South Africa and Canada) reveals is not new. If some dogs are beastly and racist, it is because human beings made them so. Canine subjects across the world are masticated, politicise­d, weaponised and abused.

I was stupefied when I read in the news about hungry, young city men who specialise­d in hunting stray dogs for meat

 ?? Photo: Joseph EID/AFP ?? Politicise­d, weaponised and abused: Dogs are people’s best friend — unless they are abused or learn hateful behaviour from their owners. In some countries people treat their dogs like their children but in others they are regarded as vermin.
Photo: Joseph EID/AFP Politicise­d, weaponised and abused: Dogs are people’s best friend — unless they are abused or learn hateful behaviour from their owners. In some countries people treat their dogs like their children but in others they are regarded as vermin.

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