Today’s column is about dogs. About cute, fluffy little pooches and massive canines with a loud bark. Sineb El Masrar tells us about her childhood experiences of dogs and why so many Muslim immigrant families don’t have pets.
“Phooey!”
“Shoo, doggy! Go away!”
“Oh no!”
These and suchlike desperate cries accompanied by nervously flailing hands whilst swiftly changing sides of the street or room are common reactions when friends or strangers set eyes on other people’s pets. Especially dogs. They’re the pets most likely to cause anxiety, followed by cats. Over the years, I’ve seen all sorts of physical and facial contortions when some people find themselves suddenly face to face with a big dog barking loudly or even a cute, fluffy little pooch. Especially among first- and second-generation immigrants to Germany. And most especially those from mainly Muslim countries: here in Germany, that means mostly from Turkey, the Middle East, the Maghreb and Indonesia.
Due to their dog phobia, { walking down the street any day of the week is tantamount to running the guantlet for them. Reactions differ according to whether the dog is in the street or in the home. Fear of dogs in the street is usually due to harrowing past experiences. I myself, when just a toddler, was once pounced on by our neighbour’s hunting dog, which was bigger than me. A friend of mine had a big dog too, which had bad breath and was a bit too playful, constantly darting between my legs and dragging me along for a ways.
So I grew up with other people’s pets around me. But I didn’t have any myself. Nor did many of the first Muslim immigrant families in Germany. A few had cats, but they were the exception. According to religious rules of hygiene, cats are allowed in the house, but not dogs. Then again, this argument, based on the requirement of “purity” for daily prayers performed in the Muslim home, seems pretty flimsy if you consider how often cat owners have to whip out the lint roller to get the cat hair off their clothes and upholstery. Many religious arguments are equally suspicious.
But dogs are not prohibited per se. If you’ve got a house with a garden or a yard with a doghouse, you can keep your dog there. In Germany as in Muslim countries of origin, some people have mulled these lame arguments and come up with solutions like keeping a separate dog-free area for prayer that’s easy to keep clean even if you don’t have a garden.
But nowadays, adult second- and third-generation Muslim immigrants have less of a problem with pets and some, including even elderly ladies in headscarves, can even be seen self-assuredly walking their dogs in the city streets. Loving and living with four-legged animals is becoming the new normal for us, too. After all, most of the time even big dogs with a loud bark just want to play. So instead of crying, “Help! Phooey! Shoo!” we’ve taken to saying, “Hey there, Rover, how’s it going?”
“Frankly ...”
On an alternating basis, our “Frankly …” column series is written by Sineb El Masrar, Susi Bumms and Maximilian Buddenbohm. Sineb El Masrar writes about migration to and the multicultural society in Germany: What strikes her, what is strange, which interesting insights emerge?
January 2023