Deborah and the Dogs

We spent Saturday afternoon with Deborah Binns (http://www.animal-kind.org/jamaicaadvocate.html). As some of you already know, I found Deborah through Animal-Kind, a animal aid organization that collects donations for affiliate programs in developing countries. Barclay gathered donations from her molecular biology lab at UNC-Chapel Hill, and I brought money and some medicine (so many thanks go to Rachel Lee for the meds!).

Deborah and the dogs of Kingston

Deborah has been doing this all her life. As we drive along the potholed streets of Central and Downtown Kingston, she tells us about growing up in the city and bringing animals home to save them from death on the streets (to the dismay of her parents, perhaps). Animals have hard lives in Kingston (and elsewhere in Jamaica), and many people are ignorant of how to take care of them. Many pets in the States are considered honored members of the family, but this view is often not shared in other countries. In developing nations where people often have to worry about providing for their  families despite the fact that they may have no lucrative employment, animals get short shrift. This, coupled with an unfortunate attitude that cats and dogs are only slightly higher in the pecking order than rats, means that some pretty horrifying things occur. According to Deborah, people’s priorities are really in the wrong place–those who say they can’t afford pet food (or any food, for that matter) will frequently buy new clothes and shoes to go clubbing.

Deborah has stepped in to fill a great need. These animals depend on her for food and, often, clean water. She travels across the city checking in on her doggies, many of whom she has named. Every day she cooks for them: rice and chicken, sometimes topped off with wet dog food. Because making all of this food is expensive, she sometimes has to resort to buying dry dog food, which in Jamaica is full of lead. She has to mix it with milk for the dogs to eat it, it’s such bad stuff. But the hungriest ones will eat it anyway. We went to the grocery store to load up on extra supplies for the dogs, as well as some canned cat food. Deborah also feeds goats around town, who, she says, “eat anything” (except, apparently, bananas, although they love the peels!).

The owner of these dogs died; they still live at the house. Deborah is trying to adopt them out.

Our first stop is to visit 22 dogs whose owner died. Although she lived a pauper’s life, she was apparently very wealthy, and she left a small fortune to her family. Deborah was caring for her dogs even before she died. She set nothing aside for her dogs after her death, but she did allow them to breed freely in her yard. Now, there’s no one to take care of them but Deborah and a sugar cane vendor who sets up his cart beside the house. The dogs are so excited to see Deborah, here and everywhere we go, but they’re even more excited to see the food. I take a pail of food over to a shyer dog who hides in the bushes.  Before I turn the corner to visit with the rest of the pack I look back: the dog has emerged, tail wagging, eating as fast as she can.

Next we head into downtown. We’re running late so the dogs we’re coming to feed are picking through the trash. When Deborah calls out to them from her car window, they run towards her, tails wagging. Many of the dogs on this street live in a garage/car repair shop. Others are actually people’s pets. One dog, who had to have part of her back foot removed due to infection, belongs to a family on the street. She just had puppies, despite Deborah’s attempts to get her fixed. The family forbade Deborah from taking her to the vet because they “wanted puppies.” Now they are bringing them to Deborah to feed. As little boys run up to tell Deborah about the puppies, she talks to them sternly, reprimanding them— and their mother, who is standing at the gate of her house—for allowing the dog to get pregnant. Deborah will be taking her to get fixed in a couple of months. As she scratches her behind the ears, she promises, “No more puppies for you.”

Our next stop is to see Girly. Girly is actually a very old dog who lives outside of a hair salon. Because of an infection that went untreated, her eye had to be removed (Deborah took her to have this procedure done). The women at the salon at their lunch there every day, and instead of giving leftovers to Girly, they throw anything they don’t eat in the garbage. One woman there does feed her and check on her water, but she’s been out of town for a couple of weeks and Girly is doing very poorly. Girly is one of Deborah’s favorite dogs. She’s a sweet, old soul. As we help Deborah take her food, I wonder how anyone could see such an animal and not give it food or love. I have no idea how some people can be so blind to suffering. When Deborah steps out of the car, Girly starts jumping around joyfully. “That’s what she does when she’s starving,” says Deborah.

Girly and Deborah

On the way to our next stop, Deborah warns us to “be prepared to see some crazy dogs.” This pack is the hungriest on Deborah’s Saturday route (she goes on a different route every day). These dogs live in a very poor neighborhood beside a jail. The jail, which has 20-foot high walls, is, as you might imagine, an incredibly grim-looking place. Inmates (“the worst of the worst in Kingston,” says Deborah) throw kittens over the walls for fun. If they land on the hard ground, they inevitably die. If they land on the softer grass growing towards the back of the wall, she can sometimes save them.

The dogs live under a truck bed. They bark at people in the neighborhood, some of whom will retaliate by whacking them with machetes. Sometimes people run them over for fun.

Ralph has a scar on his side where he was hit with a machete

A man brings up his starving puppy—he doesn’t know how to take care of him and the puppy has worms. Deborah explains that the puppy needs food often, at least three times a day, and gives the man a can of wet food. She gives the dog a heartworm pill that he refuses to swallow (“It tastes bad,” she says) so she mixes it in with a little chicken and he happily complies. She tells the owner that he has to give the puppy fresh water so he doesn’t drink it from the gutters, which will bring back the worms. The man seems to understand and promises Deborah to take care of the dog.

We head around the corner, nearer to the infamous fishing village/suburb of Rae Town. Deborah says that she saw one of her best friends shot in the street here. Most of these impoverished communities are run by gang leaders and drug lords (some of whom are affiliated with Jamaica’s two political parties, the JLP and the PNP). Deborah’s friend Boysie also lives here. Boysie is one of the few people on Deborah’s route that helps her out. He cares for a small posse of dogs and rescues animals after they are hit by cars or thrown out. The biggest attention-seeker today is a puppy, Gutter, named thus because that’s where Boysie found him.

Gutter the puppy

We also meet several local boys here who help Deborah with the food and rinse out her bins and trays. Deborah tells us that these children used to be really out-of-control, stabbing dogs and hurting each other as well, primed to be gang members and little else. Because of Deborah’s influence, many of their perspectives have changed entirely. These children, like the dogs, have more of a chance because of Deborah. Deborah is slowly changing people’s minds about animals, and in the process she’s teaching them how to be, ironically, more human. It’s interesting that no matter where we go and how sternly Deborah reprimands people, they still flock to her car to talk to her. They’re opening up their minds and their hearts, even though the process seems at times agonizingly slow. Younger generations seem especially receptive—children and young adults comes up to the car most often. Deborah tells us that our presence helps her cause—when they see other people, from other places, who are devoting time and energy to these animals, perceptual shifts are bound to occur. We will be going out with Deborah several more times while we’re in Kingston.

Near Rae Town

On the way home Deborah stops at a coconut vendor’s stall. We order three coconuts. The vendor hacks off the tops and sticks in a straw. This is the best coconut water I’ve ever tasted. After drinking it, we give it back to the vendor, who cuts the coconut in half to reveal the “jelly” inside, which we scrape up with a portion of the tough shell.

Fresh coconut water

The rest of Saturday was quite busy. We tried jerk chicken at Scotchie’s, a famous jerk establishment near our place in Kingston. Then we walked to Emancipation Park to meet up with Janeen, a Kingston couchsurfer and a member of a capoeria group that was holding a roda. Our host, Tarik, is also a member. After that we were picked up again by Deborah, who took us to the Bank of Jamiaca’s annual Christmas party. This was definitely a company party like no other, complete with a delicious dinner (of crab-stuffed chicken, panko-breaded shrimp, lobster tail, Christmas ham, potato salad, and cole slaw, with Christmas cake—essentially rum cake—for dessert). The atmosphere was very festive (and included a concert with the dancehall DJ Assassin, who is apparently quite popular here), and the crowd got even rowdier when the Miss Bank of Jamaica fashion show began. The official pagaent will be held Friday, so this was just a preview. Because of a scheduling conflict with the designers, only one “fashion” outfit was modeled by each girl, in the first half of the show. The second half showcased outfits designed by the girls that were supposed to be a little off-the-wall and reflect their personalities. Some of them may have gotten a little carried away with this.

Meow.

Deborah’s comment: “Do you think she wants some Friskies?”

This guy was a particularly avid spectator who would bang these lids together whenever his favorite girls came out:

His favorite was "the soldier." When she came out, he'd run up and bang on the stage!

Next post: The Blue Mountains (including a visit to a Rasta camp and Mrs. Twyman’s coffee plantation).

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A pledge to readers: Please consider donating to Deborah through the Animal-Kind website (link at the top of the blog). Christmas is coming up, so consider using a little bit of your holiday money to help Deborah out, or consider asking people to donate to AKI instead of giving gift cards or $5 presents nobody actually wants. It’s so needed, and it will all go towards helping these wonderful animals.

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