Beautiful Photos Show How Rwandans Are Embracing Dogs as Pets

Olivier Grinner considers himself a neat
freak. The biggest adjustment to living with Lily was getting used
to the hair. It’s everywhere: on the couch, on the pillows, on his
clothes—Lily messes everything up, he says. “But, it’s just the two
of us in this house, and I had to learn how to be patient with
her.”

Lily is Grinner’s dog, a local mix with a
sandy and white coat, bright brown eyes, and antenna-like ears that
pick up signals from miles away. At just seven months old, Lily is
the newest member of Grinner’s family; in fact, he often refers to
her as his daughter, but “only to those who understand,” he says.
To hear Grinner refer to Lily as family is a sign of change in
Rwanda, a landlocked country in Central East Africa. For decades,
Rwandans have been leery of dogs, even viewing them as dangerous,
partly because of their role as aggressive security animals and
reputation as rabid, unpredictable strays. More hauntingly, dogs
are linked to the country’s 1994 genocide. Yet today, a growing
number of Rwandans own dogs as pets or companions. They’re
influenced by an emerging middle class, an influx of Westerners,
and new technology platforms like WhatsApp, driving an attitudinal
shift in the capital city of Kigali to see dogs as family pets
rather than bodyguards.

While change is underway in Kigali, there are still many
Rwandans reluctant to embrace the idea of dogs as pets, because it
forces them to confront a difficult part of their past. Hiding in
horrific stories of the country’s genocide are tales of dogs.
Hutus—the majority reported to carry out the 1994 attacks—often
deployed dogs as a scare tactic to find and drive out the Tutsi and
moderate Hutus in hiding to kill them. Over the course of 100 days,
people were slaughtered or fled the country, and a generation of
dogs was left behind, stray and starving. Reports and witness
accounts from those who survived the genocide say that, in the
aftermath, the dogs developed^[1]
a taste for human flesh and were seen eating the victims’ decomposing
bodies^[2], leaving people
traumatized and scarred. As a result, the Rwandan Patriotic Front,
or RPF—a rebel army that fought in the
country’s^[3] genocide—shot and killed
any dog in sight. The United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda,
or UNAMIR, too, killed whatever dogs they saw—all to avoid a public
health crisis. And so, for years after the genocide, the country
was eerily
absent^[4] of dogs.

In the wake of the conflict, the dogs didn’t get much sympathy.
But more recent Rwandans, many of whom are survivors, see the
problem in broader context. “I can’t blame the dogs—it came down to
genetics. They were being animals,” says Dave Mutangana, a
38-year-old businessman in Kigali. Mutangana owns two dogs, both
German Shepherd mixes, named Scooby and Spike. “At times like that,
even people were acting like animals.”

In 2018, perceptions are slowly changing. Part of that
attitudinal shift is visible in The Rwanda Dog Lovers Club, a
digital community of self-professed dog owners and aficionados who
spend their days swapping stories and advice on the messaging
platform WhatsApp.

“The only rule I have is to only talk about dogs,” says
38-year-old Albert Sezibera, founder of the Rwanda Dog Lovers
group. Sezibera started the WhatsApp group in July 2015 to unite
people who are passionate and knowledgeable about dogs in a country
where information about them is limited. The group started with 10
people and has grown to about 100 members, mostly Rwandans. People
share memes, advice on dog-rearing—“my dog won’t stop nipping my
pants!”—and discuss where to find certain breeds. Once a month,
when long stretches of the city’s streets are closed down for
Kigali’s car-free day, members will meet up and take their dogs on
walks together. The most popular dogs among group members are
German Shepherds, Rottweilers, Labradors, St. Bernards, Bichon
Frise, and Japanese Spitz.

Many in the group even have more than one dog. Sezibera owns
three small dogs—Chichi, Murphy, and Lincoln—and several puppies,
yet his house is always quiet. That’s because Sezibera keeps his
dogs locked up in wooden dog houses most of the day, except for a
few hours in the morning or evening, when they’re let out around
his compound. They’re not allowed in the house. When he does let
them out, Sezibera and the dogs are smitten for each other. They
climb on him and he pets them, holds them, and laughs at them, but
the dogs are always wet and ragged-looking.

“Here, when you have a house, it means everyone is always
welcome,” Sezibera says, explaining why he keeps his dogs locked
away. Many people just show up unannounced, while others say they
won’t visit if dogs are free in his home. It doesn’t mean that he
doesn’t care about his dogs. “It’s a creature like other creatures
that God has created, but it has an exception: A dog is a creature
that really shows love to everyone surrounding it,” he says.

But loving dogs in Rwanda is not the same as loving dogs in
Western cultures.

“Saying publicly or putting in your mind that your dog is part
of your family? It would be like lying somehow,” Sezibera says. In
Rwanda, like in the United States, people call one another a dog as
a dig—a word someone uses when they want to treat you like a
low-class person. To say he loves a dog in the way he loves a
human, “would be like a scandal and against our culture.”

Studies show relationships between humans and dogs vary across
cultures and societies—shaped by factors including security,
companionship, transport or religious beliefs. Experts also say
that property and livestock protection is one of the primary
purposes for keeping dogs—usually free-roaming dogs—in developing
countries all over the world. Though Rwanda is still a developing
country—more than 40 percent of the population lives in poverty,
according to the National Institute Statistics of Rwanda’s Poverty Trend
Analysis Report^[5]—it’s quickly becoming
one of the leading economies in Africa, led by a government
strategy^[6] to transform Rwanda into
a middle-income country by 2020. With economic development and
progress comes a growing middle class, the return of its diaspora
population, and a large foreigner community.

“As countries develop first world standards, animal welfare is a
part of that,” says Frances Klinck, a Canadian and founder of WAG,
a volunteer-based organization that provides foster homes for
street dogs in Kigali. WAG comprises 30 members and has helped
nearly 350 former strays find homes. WAG volunteers foster and
cover dogs’ costs of care until a dog is adopted.

When Klinck founded WAG in 2012, she did so as a response to the
poor treatment dogs faced around the country. She’d learn about
dogs that were hit by cars and left unaided on the side of the
road, she’d see kids throwing rocks at strays, or she’d hear
stories of how kids would beat dogs up.

But in the past couple of years, things have changed, albeit
slowly. For example, Rwandan police have made rules about having
dogs on leashes or getting them vaccinated. The country also now
has a law that makes it illegal to harm or injure domestic
animals.

Klinck says Rwanda’s efforts are “moving in the direction of
normalizing dogs as part of everyday life.” Businesses providing
care and treatment of dogs are beginning to develop and thrive.

PETS + Ltd.^[7], Kigali’s first
all-in-one stop for pets, provides veterinary care, grooming,
training and walking, and sells retail items like dog leashes and
food.

Much of the center’s focus is on outreach and education. Only
about 10 percent the customers seeking veterinary services are
Rwandans, says Dr Septianingrum Lestari, the center’s veterinarian,
known as Dr. Arum. They’re still learning the importance of vets
when treating small, domestic animals like dogs. Often, many
Rwandans would prefer to use the money for themselves rather than
on an animal, says Dr. Arum.

“If it were livestock, like cows? Those are assets to a family,”
Dr. Arum says. “They will do everything for cows, but for dogs,
it’s not so much like that.”

Star trainer and walker at PETS + Ltd. is 20-year-old Ineza
Alidry Cloudstone, a self-taught Rwandan who has been dubbed “The
Dog Whisperer.” Rwandans, however, don’t see Cloudstones’ work the
same way. Working with dogs is not considered a respectable
job.

“People just tease me and tell me that I’m just running around
with dogs,” Cloudstone says.

Cloudstone doesn’t listen to the noise. He loves dogs and has
learned a great deal from them, too. They’ve taught him about
confidence, patience, and responsibility, but most of all, they’ve
taught him about love, kindness, and forgiveness—lessons he thinks
others can learn, too, if more families consider getting dogs.

Grinner couldn’t agree more. He can’t imagine his life without
Lily, and though he is only 34, he often wonders who would take
care of Lily if something were to happen to him, he says. In many
ways, he feels like a father. He tells his adult friends that
before they become parents, they should consider becoming
dog-owners.

“I keep telling my friends, ‘If you want to know what it will
feel like to have a child, you should start by having a puppy,’”
Grinner says, letting out a playful giggle. “If you get along with
[the dog], and you feel okay with all of the mess-ups they cause,
then I think you will be good with babies.”

Reporting for this piece was supported by a fellowship from
the International Women’s Media Foundation.