Lessons From An African-American Dog, In Asia

I just returned from the morning walk through Hupyeong with mine and my girlfriend, Suzi’s dog, Roland. Out of all the living beings I have encountered in my 24 years, Roland has without a doubt lived one of the most unique lives I know of. At times turbulent and on the move, at others content with a simmering air of simplicity, there is no doubt that the word adventure can be tagged to each and every day of his life, thus far.

Born in Naude, a rural Northeastern village in The Gambia, his initial life had very limited options, all concerning his immediate survival. As many of you can imagine, the life of a dog in rural West Africa is not an ideal, nor happy one. They are wild, hunt and kill for their meals, fight amongst each other for survival, and are occasionally beaten or stoned by the villagers. Few make it past infancy, and those that do, have a flea-infested, rabid and ultimately lonely existence to look forward to. These are not the dogs who affectionately beg for the last remains of the BBQ Ribs; cooked food on the dining room table is an unknown luxury far from the realm of their immediate reality. 

It was in this setting that 21 months ago, while working as an Ag-Fo volunteer in the Peace Corps, Suzi wandered through the village in search of a puppy. It had been rumored that a local dog was giving birth, and Suz was in the market for a companion to accompany her through her two years of service. A small litter of dogs produced four females and two males. Having grown up surrounded by a plethora of male dogs, (both of the animal quality and human – that is, before yours truly came along, of course) she knew she needed the kind of protection, energy and spirit that only a strong-willed male could produce. Thus her choices were limited to two.

The deciding factor between Roland and his brother was his stunning brindled coat. From a practical sense, his coat would make him more recognizable to Suz while they were walking through the bush, it would also help her to enforce to the children of the village which dog not to throw stones at. Ascetically though, Roland is an absolutely brilliant dog to look at. Splotched with white, brown and black, he has sharp lines of color that cut various angles through his torso. His eyes are wrapped in brown, while his snout is graced with a single, white line separating both of his eyes. From his feet to his hips he is fully white. And, his curled tail is brindled like his body, until it gives way to a dab of snowy white at the tip. As he has grown and matured over the last year and half, fully developing into a dog, his colors and features have amplified, giving him a wild, yet at the same time, regal appearance. 

 

 

In The Wild

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Chilling At The Crib

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Da Monk

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you know anything about Suzi, it’s that animals are the most important thing in the world to her. I have never once even stood in competition with the animals in her life, and the constant presence of Roland, proves no different. If ever Roland is at my place and she walks in the door, I can be certain of five plus minutes of Suzi & Roland time before I even get a hello. To say Roland won the lottery by being bought by Suzi that day (for nothing more than a bag of tea, I might add) would be an extreme understatement. Through Suzi, Roland entered a world of endless walks, a near-constant existence in the outdoors, an array of treats, endless attention and a loving owner who cares for him as a mother would her son rather than a dog. Even in suburban America you’d be hard pressed to find many dogs who get this kind of royal treatment. 

When Suzi left The Gambia three months after adopting him, her biggest concern was assuring Rolands’ flight back to America. He had been with her through three of her most trying months and she knew in her heart that their companionship had immensely helped her through those times. As she would experience again over a year later trying to get Roland to Korea, the process of flying her and her dog from Africa to America was a trial in and of itself. From Montana, I strongly pleaded with her to get here as soon as possible, yet time and time again she displayed a patience unknown to me in securing Roland’s flight to the US. As luck would have it she flew on a half-full plane, and was able to bring Roland aboard who slept on her lap for the entirety of the 10+ hour flight. 

***

I first met Roland when I arrived in DC in February 2008 to meet Suzi when she got back to the US. At the time he was a shell of himself, worn out from the extended flight, jet-lagged, and unsure of where he was, or who he was with at the time. Her parents picked me up at the airport, and on the drive to her hotel Roland slept on my lap, drooling with each bump in the road. 

A month later Suzi, Roland, and my cat, Tatu arrived in Montana and the four of us lived together for the next four months before Suz and I pulled our routine, “interlude” in the relationship, and went our own ways. During that time I grew incredibly fond of Roland, a kinship I had never before felt with an animal. Roland, or has we began to call him, “Da Monkey Man,” – a result of his oversized ears and goofy frame – had a personality I had never before seen in a dog. Like a human being you could see and feel his ups and downs. Whenever we were gone for extended periods in time we were sure to be immediately greeted at the door by a butt-shaking, tail-wagging, ears-flopping Roland, who would jump up and down to kiss us then immediately start running through the apartment to get us to play. The same reaction followed any mention of a “Crazy Walk,” which usually means at least an hour devoted to Roland and his various explorations of the world outside. Like any good companion, Roland could also sense our ups and downs. If ever one of us appeared even the slightest bit melancholy, there would be Roland, hopping up on the bed, curling up at our side to comfort us. He became the best friend to both of us, never choosing sides in our arguments as it became apparent we needed to go down separate paths. Through the entirety of those four months, Roland could be called on by either one of us whenever we needed to be cheered up, or just wanted a monkey there to read our book with.

Roland also has his list of quirks that we discovered throughout the Spring, granting us constant amusement and joy. One in particular has to do with his sleeping habits. As what I believe is a direct result of the immense love Suzi showed him in his first weeks of life, Roland always has to be by her side. Always. This includes while we sleep. Before we turned out the light each night, Roland would hop on the bed and paw at the covers to which we would obediently lift them. He would then walk his way towards the foot of the bed, circle a few times, before curling up in between one of our legs. For the remainder of the night, he refused to budge. This forced one of us to sleep with our legs spread completely, preventing a decent nights sleep. We tried, to no avail, to get Roland to sleep on his bed on the floor, but he was going to have nothing of it. After some failed attempts, we started to just let it slide. Well, as many dog owners know, when a bad habit is not dealt with, the dog will continue to perform it as if it is allowed. After a while we simply got used to Roland being on the bed, and instead readjusted our sleeping styles. This I might add, was not that big of a deal when we shared a queen sized bed in Montana, but since Koreans only seem to sleep on twin sized beds, it creates quite a tight sleeping arrangement over here. Roland, however, seems to sleep wonderfully every night.

***

Last June, Roland developed a nasty case of diarrhea. We were unsure to what the origins were, but we were put on high alert each time Roland began sniffing and circling the floor of our apartment. Our schedules were completely altered by this, and we had to make sure he was getting out as often as possible.

One morning, just as the sun was creeping over the backside of Mt. Sentinal, Roland woke up with a snap and began circling on our bed. Not two seconds later he squatted down and took a dump right in between my legs. The normal reaction would have been a horrified scream, followed by leaping out of bed and taking two showers, then throwing the bed sheet and underwear out immediately, right? I did nothing of the sort. I remember almost being in immediate shock, not quite believing what had just happened. As I started to take stock of the situation I recalled his past moments of uncontrolled digestion…

Roland hates, absolutely hates car rides. On a number of extended drives through the rolling and weaving mountain passes of the west, he threw up violently on Suz. We tried everything, training him to sit in the back seat, not feeding him for the day before we departed, having him lie on a towel, but nothing ever worked. After a while we both got used to the fact that if we drove anywhere with Roland, he was bound to throw up. It became a joke, a test of what it will be like to raise children who throw up and whose diapers routinely need to be changed.

It was with this same mindset that I approached the mound of turds in my crotch that morning. After simply stating, “Oh my God” I laid my head back down on the bed to sleep of the remainder of the dawn. Suz started laughing at me and woke me back up to inform me that I desperately needed a shower. Reluctantly I negotiated my body around the droppings and slowly and steadily made my way for the bathroom. On the way, I distinctly remember reassuring Roland that I loved him, while laughing to myself, and saying to Suz, “Well, I guess we don’t have to take him out this morning.”

I’m not sure about the rest of you, but that was my first, and preferably last, experience with something else dropping waste on me. All I know, is that for some strange reason I loved Roland that much more after that morning. He had committed the most disgusting, insulting and inappropriate of acts, and yet instead of anger and horror, I only felt concern for him and what he must have been feeling; so sick, and in pain, with no time or capability to tell us what he needed. I knew then that if I could handle being shat on by my dog in the wee hours of the morning, I would be able to take anything from my children. 

***

When Suzi and I parted ways last July, we both dealt with a vast array of emotions concerning the separation neither of us really wanted, yet that we both knew we needed to stay true to our individual selves. For me, one of the hardest aspects of our separation was parting was with Roland, a dog that had become a close friend, whom I wanted to be there to see him continue to grow. I still remember trying to say goodbye to him on my way to Alaska. We stopped off at Whopper’s new home in Coure D’Alaine, ID  to let him play for the afternoon with their dog Supai, while Suz drove me the remainder of the way to Seattle. As I was trying to give him one last hug he continually ran away from me in their backyard with that rambunctious smile spread across his face. It was as if he was saying to me: “No Daddy, I want to play with you, but if you’re going to leave that’s up to you, but I don’t like it one bit.” Even now with him sleeping on the bed behind me, it tears at me to think about that afternoon. 

During the ensuing nine months of ups and downs between Suzi and I, I was always guaranteed an update now and then on how Roland was, funny new things he was doing, how he was adjusting to life with her parents four boxers, and a picture of the growing Monkey Man from time to time. When we finally etched out our differences and found each other once again, it was in Boston that we met to reunite, and celebrate our decisions to teach in Korea by way of the Phish tour opener at Fenway Park. While there we both mentioned to each other on multiple occasions that as wonderful as it was to be together again, we needed Da Monk there to make it feel right. 

***

A month later I boarded a plane set for Korea, where I spent my first month trying to adapt to the culture, trying organize the immensely disorganized school I worked for, and relay helpful hints back to Suz. Finally after weeks of ups and downs with the airline, the school we were employed through, and the governmental regulations for pets in the country, Suzi and Roland boarded a plane on 21 July to head to Chuncheon. Roland was able to accompany Suzi as her “Service Dog” (Don’t Ask) and once again he sat next to her on the 14-hr plane ride that brought the African-American Dog to Asia.

While Korea has definitely been an eye-opener for Suz and I in many different regards, it is Roland who has probably been hit the hardest, and felt the most significant changes by coming here. Roland never chose to come her, he is here solely because Suzi and I made the decision that we wanted him to be here. In coming here, Roland left behind a house full of playful dogs, a huge field to run wild in, and a cat, Tatu, to tantalize like the best of toys. Further, Korea is not exactly the most dog-friendly, nor dog-knowledgeable country in the world. (Though dogs aren’t the only thing they aren’t knowledgeable about over here…)

While Suz and I get stares by Koreans because this is the most homogenized country on Earth, which makes us stick out like the sorest of thumbs, Roland gets an even more animated reaction from everyone. Those who are afraid of him will do everything from scream and run away – which only excites him – to throwing themselves up against a wall, and sliding past us in effort to avoid him seeing them. Yet for everyone who reacts in these ridiculous manners, there are many more who seem to be not only curious, but down right ecstatic to see a dog of his size in their city. Unfortunately though, from the first second that they approach Roland, it is immediately apparent that they know nothing of how to handle a dog. Instead of extending their palm to let him sniff before petting him, Koreans – and many times groups of them – will hoard around him, petting him and laughing, without a care that they are probably frightening him, and that he could retaliate with a bite. To make matters worse, they are speaking in a language and tone that is unrecognizable to him, only further testing his patience. Many times, Suz and I are forced to pull him back, thank the person for petting Roland and walk on before they were finished.

While it definitely worries us that Roland must be exposed to these sharply different reactions and greetings than he has ever had to deal with before, he manages to reassure us that he is okay within seconds of leaving the Koreans behind. Looking down at him, we are graced with that smiling, tongue hanging from the side of the mouth, tail wagging and ears flopping Monkey Man who never ceases to amaze us with his capability to survive any change. It is as if he is telling us in the only way he knows how, that as long as the two of us are with him, he can take anything and he can go anywhere. For two people who want to see the world, and intend to bring him with, this is greatest reaction and attitude we could ask for.

***

There are many days when I feel the exact same way Roland feels when groups of Koreans are clamoring for his hide. The differences between the mannerisms and behaviors among westerners and Koreans could not be further from each other in many senses. Take my job for instance. As a teacher, who was educated in American Public Schools, a system of balance between education, activities and free time determined the thirteen years I spent in school. This lead to a fairly organized experience, where I usually had enough time to not only learn and retain information, but also complete homework, participate in after-school activities, and hang out with friends during my free time. The goal in mind was to learn that there is a time and place for everything, and that each aspect of life holds its own importance. As I went into great detail about in my last blog (Candy Management), there is no such system here, as many of my students spend upwards of 13-15 hrs a day in school, providing them with no time to play sports, relax, and just be a kid, let alone to retain the information taught to them. Only the very few break through the high ceiling that is set above them and actually make something of themselves, the rest merely fight to stay afloat. 

From a social standpoint, walking out of my apartment to school is a journey in and of itself. I can never merely just walk to school, for each an every day there is something new that catches my eye, makes me stop and step back, and wonder to myself: “What in the hell am I doing in Korea?!” This usually comes in the form of a ridiculous Korean T-shirt with a phrase in English that makes absolutely no sense. Suzi has begun highlighting the best T-shirts we’ve seen on her blog, “Kraaaaazy Korea,” which you can find the link to on the side bar, but I will give you a few as a preview. 

“Design Is Not What It’s Like. Design Is What It Does.”

“The Road Is Long. So What?”

“Help Save Our Delicious Earth”

“This Is A Really Hard”

As you can tell, the English education of Korean children is really going well.

Beyond the hilarious T-shirts, there is a frustration that creeps over me during many of my interactions, no matter how much I try to avoid them, with Koreans. See, – and I mean this in no generalized or stereotyped racist sense, this is just from my personal experience – Koreans are seemingly trapped in their own world, and thus appear to be incredibly oblivious to outsiders. This along with their lack of any sort of personal space, means that walking to work, or anywhere for that matter is akin to the video game Frogger. Out of nowhere, Koreans will appear in my path, obstructing me and never allowing me to simply take a pleasant stroll. 

The difference that irks me the most however, is the rampant and open abuse of alcohol, namely Soju which dominates the streets each night. As I leave my job and head home, I must keep my headphones on, for every restaurant and convenience store I pass by is filled with, and surrounded by, a massive group of drunk men, both old and young. This is not your average happy hour crowd just grabbing some cocktails and a beer after a long day of work. This is a full-scale, drunken Tuesday night for no other apparent reason than the fact that it’s Tuesday, and one can drink for cheap here, anywhere and at any time they choose. Now, I’m not one to deny a fun night of drunken debauchery; I had a great deal of fun throughout my college years, in my travels overseas, many-a-night in Chicago, and here at the all-night bars in Korea. But as someone who came to Korea with the sole intention of teaching, I do have my limits on partying. Thus to leave work on a nightly basis and be greeted by the onslaughts of Korean men groping each other, screaming to the heavens above (or just the neon red crosses) has become an annoyance that truly makes me wonder how this country survives each working day. 

Yet, I keep trying to remind myself that this is traveling. This is what it’s all about: exposing oneself to a totally new culture and way of life, and trying to survive in the best way possible. In the many instances that annoy and obstruct my day, I am constantly brought back to Roland’s experience. While I chose to toss myself in this experience, Roland had no free will in his decision. And yet, while this is a totally new country for him – and his third continent, mind you – where strange people approach him, run away from him, and speak to him in a language totally foreign to him, Roland always responds to each situation with that crazy smile, and carefree approach. As it has become very apparent, as long as Roland is with Suzi and I, exploring the city, sleeping between our legs, or playing with his monkey bones, all is right in the world. Roland’s experience and Roland’s attitude are the stuff of inspiration for me whenever I run into situations that are uncomfortable, annoying and unnerving. No matter how foreign of an environment I’m in, I still have two individuals I love with me, my books to immerse myself in, mountains to hike at will, and even a guitar to sing my sad ballads on. Like Roland, I have tried to step back from every new and strange experience with a smile. For while, it can be difficult at times to adjust to life in a country as strange as Korea, it certainly beats the alternative of working behind a desk for the next year.