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. Continue reading “Humanitarians Spring for a Kitten”