The street looks so pretty, so tranquil. It is, except for the two mean dogs.
I like to walk different routes to and from Spanish classes each day. My preference is the quiet streets.
On the way home the other day, I turned into this street. I calculated it would take me to Chipilapas, then I'd turn right and be in front of my little neighborhood's entrance.
I duly noted the barking dog behind a wall, a vigilant guard of someone's property. I observed the dog lying on the street, to my left, as I approached and then passed. I wasn't perturbed; the dogs in Antigua are a good-natured lot, polite, unassuming.
But then the lying-down dog got up and started to bark at me. Which put me in mind of the unpredictable dogs of Caucasus Georgia and Ethiopia, where dogs can be menacing and will bite.
But no worries, I thought, I'll just keep going on my way, mind my own business, and the dog will settle down once he realizes I've got no desire to encroach on his territory. ..............
Except. Oh. It appears this is a dead-end street. Well, I'll keep walking just in case there's an alley at the end that I can use for a happy egress. No. So I've got to retrace my path, go by the dog again. I look for some rocks and a stick. None. Can you believe it? A town literally covered with cobblestones, yet not a single loose stone that would fit into my hand? And now the dog is barking that special snarl-bark combo, approaching me. I refuse eye contact and periodically say "Vaya!" without looking sideways or looking back as I pass. I imagine the dog taking a chunk out of my calf. I wonder about rabies. I keep on walking. Whew. I reach the main street. Safe.
When I described my experience to my Spanish teacher the next day, she pointed out that my belt could have served as a weapon, if needed, both as a signal to the dog and as a self-defense tool. Yes - good to remember.
That brought us to the topic of rabies. In Antigua, it's an annual custom for animal control folks to visit the neighborhoods and offer free, on-the-spot rabies shots for the dogs and cats. Sounds like a good system.
Below is a calaveras, generally associated with the Day of the Dead, about a mean dog. A calaveras is a satirical poem with a double meaning:
The neighbor’s dog has chased me home, Every day this Autumn. I run away when I’m all alone, So it doesn’t bite my bottom. Go ahead little dog and gnash your teeth, But some day you will be buried beneath.
El perro del vecino me ha perseguido a la casa, Todos los días del otoño. Yo corro lejos cuando estoy solo, Para que él no me muerda el trasero. Adelante pues perrito y rechina tus dientes, Pero algún día tú vas a ser enterrado abajo.
Priest, dog, woman, bread. Antigua, Guatemala. April 2016.
I find this picture compelling. A priest and a dog looking out of the window. His white robe and blue sash. A woman walking below with the bakery basket. Her blue jeans.
It was my first full day out and about in Antigua.
Woke up still feeling a little queasy, but far better
than yesterday. I popped another Cipro then went upstairs to see Irish
Edith off for her return to Addis. The thought of coffee didn't send the
right signals to my stomach, so I skipped that and had cold water with
bread and "marmalade," the ubiquitous orange-transparent gelatin that
passes nationwide in Ethiopia for something nothing like marmalade.
I had work to do online, so after a pleasant breakfast chat with Edith, I
walked up to the internet cafe. By the time I finished there, it was
time for lunch. This was a great day to check out that hotel/restaurant,
more or less across the street from the Ras Hotel, that had caught my
attention the first day I arrived in Harar.
It sat high behind a wall amidst flowering trees and shrubs. The adobe
building looked immense, and was tropically pretty in its "fascist
yellow" facade.
How odd, a military guardhouse at the gate. Came to find out it was a
hotel owned by the Department of Defense. After checking out the
bathroom, I selected a seat at one of the outside tables. No menu. I
just ordered a coffee, which was very good. And for heaven's sake - only
2 birr (about 12 cents US)!
Decided to lunch instead at the reliable Fresh Touch down the street.
Ordered the vegetarian pizza. When it arrived, I dressed it with their
wonderfully spicy chili sauce. Oh. Wait. I did order the vegetarian
pizza, right? So what's with the crispy-curled roach sitting so perkily
atop a pepper? Waiter!
Just as I was waving down the waiter, in walked New York Ed and a pretty
girl with an easy smile. She turned out to be Imti, from Germany via
Sudan by birth.
I substituted an indifferent pasta-with-vegetables dish for the pizza.
(Gonder is definitely the champion of an excellent "macaroni" with
vegetables.)
After Ed, Imti, and I finished our lunches and enjoyed two delicious
cups of coffee each, Ed pushed off to the internet cafe, and Imti and I
continued our conversation. Interesting! She's an engineering student
just finishing up an internship in Ethiopia, related to these
cobblestone projects I've seen in Harar, Nazret, and Awassa. It's a
German-Ethiopia partnership designed to provide jobs, training, and
beautification of Ethiopian streets. Imti and her friend are in Harar
doing some in-country tourist travel before she returns to Germany.
Tonight was hyena night for me, and unlike Atlanta Tom, who casually
walked outside the wall over to check out the hyena man on his own, I
knew I'd want a guide in the scary, hyena-riddled night. [A video about dogs and hyenas in Harar below]
I knew also that Aziz, who was to have escorted me last night (until I
got sick), would probably be unavailable tonight, as his Spanish
girlfriend was in town. My plan was to walk over to the cafe in the main
Jugal square and locate a Plan B guide on the fly. At the same time, I
had it in my mind to hire Abdellah, the guy I'd met the other day at
said cafe, who is deaf. This turned out to be exactly what I did.
Abdellah appeared happy as hell to be hired and we negotiated the price
with the help of another local man.
Abdellah is one of those charismatic individuals who radiate good vibes
and who attract goodwill in return. It was clear this local gentleman
was fond of Abdellah; he made sure I really meant to hire Abdellah as my
guide in the event Aziz didn't pan out.
Abdellah and I agreed to meet at the cafe at 6:30, and he dashed off
while I hung out over a coffee and people-watched. A guide popped up,
and joined me at my table. Did I need a guide? I explained that I was
waiting for Aziz, but if he didn't show up, Abdellah was my back up
guide. The guide said he doubted Aziz would be by, as his Spanish
girlfriend was in town. (Harar is a typical small town - everybody knows
everyone's business - heck, even the tourists know!)
Though late, Abdellah arrived, and off we went. I realized right quick
that it wasn't going to work for Abdellah to get ahead of me, as he
couldn't hear me if I called out to him. I tucked my arm into his so we
stayed connected. It was nice. Just about everyone knew Abdellah - and
liked him - as evidenced by the constant friendly, smiley greetings
between him and other passersby. We emerged through a gate I hadn't
visited before. It was already dark and the hyena man was already
engaged with the hyenas.
Unbelievably, I fed the hyenas three times: I held out an 18" skinny
stick with a strip of meat dangling on its end and handed it right to
the hyenas' mouths. Yikes! At one point, I felt a nudge at the back of
my knee. I whirled around, saw that it was Abdellah, and I slapped him
hard in the chest in mock outrage. Everyone laughed.
Some idiot dad (an Ethiopian tourist) had this little toddler daughter
feeding the hyenas. Put me in mind of idiot American counterparts who
have their young'ns feed bears by dumpsters.
The beautiful illusion splintered as soon as I saw them move. Their walk
evoked all of these negative anthropomorphic prejudices: "tail between
its legs," "slinking around," "skulking," "craven."
I never saw the beauty for the presumed ugliness of the hyenas' posture.
Abdellah escorted me to my hotel, as agreed upon. We smilingly parted,
and I saw him affectionately grab the head of a nearby youngster, and
the two walked away with their arms around each other's shoulders.
I walked upstairs to the restaurant, where the waiter encouraged me to order the goat, as it was very fresh. I did, and it was.
While I thoughtfully chewed the tender meat, I wondered if it came from
the pretty brown and white goat I saw from my balcony window earlier
today, bleating sweetly at a woman retreating from the spot where he was
newly tethered.
I thanked him for his sacrifice.
Marcus Baynes-Rock, a PhD candidate, studied hyenas for some time in
Harar. You can check out his two interesting blogs on his research here (for 2009 through March 2010), then here for period til April 2011.
