Crazy Cat Lady / Minou the Moose

Well, folks, it's happened.  I've done a very un-Senegalese, very Toubab-y thing:  I've rescued a kitten.  Here, cats are pretty much looked upon as vermin, so my taking one in is probably tantamount to someone rescuing a little baby rat from a NYC subway.  But, I'm sure some crazy person's probably done that too... 

So, here's the story:

I was on my way to a music conference, walking along a very busy street.  Lots of cars, buses, vans, lots of honking, people walking around, etc.  Typical Dakar street scene.  All of a sudden I saw this pathetic pile of fur squeaking desperately.  It was a teeny kitten - it couldn't have been more than 2 weeks old.  It's eyes were still blue, although one was sealed completely shut with pus and goop.  It was filthy and terrified and completely alone.  I looked around and couldn't see any other cats or kittens anywhere.  People were stepping all around it and completely ignoring it.  It was maybe a foot or two away from the cars.  I was convinced that this kitten was not long for this world, and impulsively grabbed it and carried it with me, wrapped up in my shirt.  I drew some stares and snickers, but I didn't care.  I went to a street stall and ordered an omelet and some water, and then proceeded to try to feed the kitten.  This was dumb, because clearly the kitten was not weened yet; all I did was attract more gawkers and prompt much laughter at my expense.  But, I didn't care - just because nobody here likes cats doesn't mean I can't! 

I proceeded to walk the rest of the way to the conference, and I took the cat to where the port-a-potties were and washed it off where they had left some water out.  More stares.  Then I smuggled the cat with me into the conference, which of course was stupid because she was squriming all over the place and squeaking.  So, I lasted about 5 minutes and then decided I should probably go, so as not to distract people. 

So, back home, I saw the dad and gave him an innocent grin and he said he didn't care as long as the cat stayed in my room, but that they don't like cats so don't let it run around all over the place.  No problem!  I went to the corner market and bought some milk, and dunked a tissue in it and squeezed it into the kitten's mouth - she drank and drank and drank!  She was hungry!!!  I went to the pharmacy and got some antibiotic eyedrops for her eye infection.  I gave her another bath (she loved THAT).  I filled up a little plastic box with some sand.  All set!

Of course, at first Matt wans't super thrilled with the news that he was going to be sharing a room with a street kitten, but I assured him I would take all necessary measures to keep all of us safe and the kitten healthy.  A few days later I finally located one of the few vets in town (they mostly cater to sheep and the like, but also to a few cats and dogs - the vet said it's mostly toubabs who bring in the street cats, obviously) and cabbed over with the kitten.  The vet was really sweet and she said that all things considered, the kitten was relatively healthy.  She had fleas, of course, so I got some flea treatment for her as well as an anti-flea fogger for the room.  I also got some anti-worm medication for her, although it doesn't look like she has any.  But, I gave it to her anyway as a preventative, as the vet suggested. 

I also went to see the REAL crazy cat lady in town, this Lebanese restaurant owner I met when I interviewed Aziz Dieng, the music programmer for FESMAN.  I had gone to the restaurant to meet and interview Dieng, and had noticed that the place was overrun with HAPPY, HEALTHY cats!  Well-fed, contented cats!  So I thought she would be the ideal person to go to - I thought maybe she would take in the kitten.  Well, I didn't know just HOW much of a crazy cat lady she is - she has 22 cats!!!  But the place doesn't at all seem like a cat hoarder's environment - everything is clean and the cats have plenty of space to run around.  Anyway, she said she couldn't take in any more right now, but she was kind and gave me some kitten milk formula that she had specially ordered from France. 

So, now, the cat's all set.  She (the vet confirmed it's a girl) has plenty of food, she's got a nice litter box which she took to after only about a day, she's got people to play with, she doesn't have any fleas anymore - she's all clean and fluffy and smells nice.  She's a happy cat!!!

Her name, at least for now, is Minou, which is just a French diminuative term for kitten.  Her other name is Moose, which is based on the Wolof word for cat, which is "moos" (pronounced just like "moose").  So, I like to think of her full name as Minou the Moose, like Minnie the Moocher...

And, of course, Matt has thoroughly taken to her and she to him, and they are fast friends.  He has even looked into what would be involved in taking the cat home with us, although I never had any plans of doing that - I just wanted to rescue the kitten and then find a home for it.  There are plenty of American expats here who are not afraid of cats, so I'm sure I can find a family who'll take her in.  In the meantime, however, we are having fun fostering her and watching her grow!  I've only had her a week now, and already she is drinking twice as much milk as when I first got her, and she is much, much stronger and now knows how to run and jump and play.  The first day, she could barely walk.  And her eye is perfectly fine now, too.  So... YAY MINOU!!!!

Here's the first round of annoyingly cute kitten photos - more to follow!

Christmas Pigeon

Here's a little Christmas tale for you:

Natacha and Pierre were in good spirits, as would be expected of two young kids on Christmas day.  They had just come back from a Christmas carnival and had won some cool loot:  Pierre got a Pokemon toy, and Natacha got... a white pigeon!  I think that the pigeon was supposed to resemble a dove, being white and everything, but it wasn't really fooling anyone.  It was a pigeon.  Not that that really mattered.  Henri, as Natacha had christened him, seemed happy enough, and Natacha didn't seem to mind that he didn't represent the symbol of peace as accurately as his cousins.  Natacha and Pierre were having a great time running around chasing after the pigeon.  They took pride in the fact that they thought they were "teaching" him how to fly.  Poor Henri tried to be a good sport, but he occasionally flew to a safe spot high enough for the kids not to be able to reach him, and he'd rest momentarily and gather his resolve for another round.  During one such pause, Henri rested on the wall dividing the Moreno house from the neighbor's.  The kids climbed up on the sink outside in the courtyard in order to get high enough to grab the poor bird.  And now, we must go into slow motion:

Natacha leans over to grab Henri...

Henri flies over the wall to evade capture...

A neighborhood tomcat, lying in wait, seizes his opportunity...

Right before Natacha's eyes...

The tomcat leaps up...

Henri miscalculates the height necessary to escape the cat's claws...

And...

BAM!  ...

Henri is flapping and struggling in the cat's mouth...

Feathers everywhere...

Natacha lets out a terrible shriek...

The tears start to pour...

Poor Natacha.  Not exactly the Christmas present she had hoped for.  Thomas went to look for the bird, who had disappeared along with the cat.  He came back reporting that he never actually found it, which could mean that it actually  managed to get away.  I tried to comfort Natacha by suggesting to her that Henri was actually doing fine now, flying fancy free.  She sniffled and considered the idea, but still felt ripped off by the whole experience.  Thomas told me later there was no way that bird made it - too many feathers and carnage everywhere.  But he didn't want to traumatize the poor girl any more than she already had been from watching the whole spectacle go down. 

So, RIP, Henri...

Natacha and Pierre happily playing in the courtyard before the "Event."

Pierre and his new Pokemon toy.

Natacha and the doomed Henri, shortly before the disaster.

Contemporary Art Exhibition

Conferences, Opening Ceremonies, Renaissance Statue

More photos - these are from the first few days of the festival. 





The opening FESMAN conference, on the festival's theme, "La Renaissance Africaine."  This was held at the super-swanky Hotel Meridien, which offered a super spread of food for us at the break.

A couple of panels in one of the rooms - it was lined on all sides with these, each one covering a different subject pertaining to the theme of the "African Renaissance."

The opening ceremonies, before I had to flee...  This was the beginning of the "Spectacle Son et Lumière" (Sound and Light Show).

Toumani Diabate, world-renowned master of the kora.

The crowd:  50,000+

The Renaissance Statue at night.  Questions were raised as to why the man is pointing away from Africa (and across the Atlantic) rather than towards it.  Some found this further reason to scorn the whole project (incredibly expensive - $27 million!, built North Koreans rather than locals, etc.).  Others chose to read it more optimistically, saying that the man is beckoning the diaspora toward the Motherland.  A key topic at several conferences has been the integral relationship between the diaspora and the continent, and the necessity of the former for the development of the latter.

The Renaissance Statue is on one of two hills called "Les Mamelles" ("the breasts" - go figure).  The various flags of Africa line the stairway up to the statue.  I took this at some point maybe three-quarters of the way up.

The Ugandan flag.

Bouganvilla on the way up the stairs.

A baobab tree and a view of the city overlooking the ocean. 

Taken from the top of the monument.

President Wade's dedication message: "Foreign or African visitors:  If, one day, your steps bring you to the foot of this monument, think of all of the sacrifices that have torn Africa from multisecular obscurity to propell itself into the light of liberty!"  (I have no idea what Wade means by "multisecular obscurity" (l'obscurité pluriséculaire), but it sounds better in French, at any rate.)

At the foot of the Renaissance monument the night of Archie Shepp's concert. 

A poster I watched a guy put up on a wall close to the Renaissance monument's stage.  It's a pro-Gaddafi poster promoting the Libyan leader's vision of a pan-Africanist utopia with himself at the helm.  I thought that the sun rising over Gaddafi's head was a nice touch.

This is Florent, the journalist from Bordeaux I mentioned in an earlier post.  He's such a nice, friendly person and has been incredibly helpful with my research, introducing me to many important new contacts. 

Florent getting ready for his lecture.  This is at one of the exhibition halls of the Buiscuiterie in Medina, which is a collection of buildings that host various art and multi-media exhibitions.

Florent and I after his last lecture.

This is an adjacent wall in the same hall where Florent gave his talk.   The whole wall is covered from floor to ceiling with books!

A closeup of the other wall.