Humanitarians Spring for a Kitten

Late one night on the island of Zanzibar, Laura, Hadley and I were returning from a triumphant match between Spain and Portugal, which we enjoyed from Mercury's Bar - so named because Freddy Mercury was born here ... or some history along those lines. Triumphant because Laura is from Spain - so of course, Villa Maravilla, Venga and other Spanish cheers were leaving our table with more volume than most in the bar expected from a group of seemingly mature women and wazungu at that. Way to go Spain!!

Back to my story... We were returning from the match around midnight and we were only steps from our hostel's entry way when the high pitch cries of youth in distress whipped my head to the side and down where I spotted the tiniest of tiny kittens, wailing away and all alone. I scooped it up and it fit easily in the palm of my hand - its eyes weepy, orange coat soiled and whiskers curly from having been burned away at the ends. Of course, the three of us began cooing as women do around baby animals and baby humans - a cooing which quickly turned to moaning about how we could help this animal, after midnight, just outside our hotel with no information about where its mother might be.

The young boy working the hostel came to the door and smiled to see the suckers standing outside with the baby in their hands. His smile became a sympathetic laugh accompanied by a shake of the head. He knew our type. We asked about the kitten's mother, found out she had died and that the little one was left to live in the "garden" which was a dirt path wound between closely set buildings. I asked if he would give us some milk from the fridge upstairs and he reluctantly agreed to give us a cup full. With the bottle cap, I led the little nose to nutrients and it started wailing even more frantically, trying to find the source - but all the while continuing to suckle my index finger and arm ... desperate for something to come out. After a little teamwork, the little kitten and I managed to combine his attempt to suckle the plastic cap and my attempt to tip the right amount his way until next thing we knew, he was sipping down two cap fulls.

With a very reluctant farewell, we set him down and wished him well - off we went to bed. We talked about the realities of the island and life in general in many parts of Tanzania - the luxury we have to invest so much in the welfare of animals whereas many of the people here are just trying to put food in their own stomachs... but I can't let them off that easily when I see the wealth that does creep in here and there - more can be done for both humans and animals if the intention is strong enough.

The next morning, I was hoping sleep would have erased my thoughts of the kitten ... but of course, he was first on my mind. It was lashing rain and the dirtways between buildings were small streams - muddied and empty of people, of animals - no kitten in sight. We went up to our rooftop for breakfast and just as we finished our coffee, Laura heard the cries. I lept up and ran down three flights to the dirt below and poked around until the cries pulled me in their direction. Our little buddy was like a minnow in the ocean - so small in the big world, soaked to the bones and starving. I scooped him up, ran him to the rooftop and dried him with napkins. He cried for a minute and then burrowed his head between my knees, into my skirt and passed out - exhausted from fighting for his life.



It was our last day on the island and we were leaving in a matter of hours. I began searching the oracle - Google.com - for an animal welfare society on the island. I came across a seemingly (and ultimately) amazing organization named ZAASO - Zanzibar Animals Affection Society - run by a woman named Ana (Dutch, I think?). We hired a taxi and scooped our little Prince (his given name) into a taxi. After 20 minutes, we arrived at Zanzibari animal heaven and turned our baby over into the hands of Dr. Ramadan and his crew. The sanctuary had donkeys, dogs, cattle and goats that had been rescued and treated for a host of ailments from bush knife wound to collapse by overload ... We reloaded our taxi smiling, breathing easier and knowing our little Prince would grow to fight for life as a strong adult on the streets ... or perhaps better - he would become part of the family at the sactuary.