The animal looked like your "generic dog" with an infusion of colonialist German Shepherd somewhere; yellowish biscuit of coat, scythe-sweeping of tail and mildly wrinkled of brow.
The development economics expert whom I was interviewing in his quarters in Arusha, Tanzania, said that the dog was not unfriendly, but liked to make up his own mind. I respect that, and went on with my interview as the dog watched me from across the room.
The humans took time out for a beer. October in Arusha is pleasant, but beer is always welcome and they make good beer in Tanzania. Budget limitations prevent such niceties as labels and such, but you always know it is Safari Beer - sort of.
As we relaxed, I decided to try something; the call of the Great North American Scritcher. Slowly, I dropped my hand over the arm of the couch and made claw-like motions with my outstretched fingers.
Bingo!
In a trice, the dog's head, then his shoulder blades and then his croup were under my "scritching" fingers. Mouth opened, tongue lolled out, the African dog gave the world-wide response.
On that trip I was in remote parts of Tanzania doing stories about alternative energy, reforestation, erosion, agricultural extension and other development topics. But it is inescapable; put a dog person anywhere, and they are going to pick up on what is happening with the national dogs.
I saw the basic African dog in Tanzania, the combinations wrought by years of colonial presence, and observed that the "Generic Dog" emerged from the infusions unscathed, like a stream resuming its way after flowing over a rock.
Moving through remote villages, you could tell immediately where some colonial family had let their dog run and seek romance. There would be a village with several recognizable German Shepherd types among the basic dogs. These had a Basenji look, but were less refined; tawny to slate-colored with gracefully curled tails, upright/aslant ears and sharp inquiring faces. The invaded blood line would thin out as we moved on from what was apparently the original infusion. By the third village, the Shepherd would disappear altogether and the local dog would continue like the stream.
I only lost my dignity (?) once. My travelling companions in the bounding Land Rover -- photographer, land-use expert, game warden who hitched a ride - jumped as I yelled. We saw a village made lively by Afghan Hounds. The combination with African Generic was striking, to say the least. It thinned out from village to village just as the Shepherd strain had done.
I had seen few combination dogs in trips which took me to Ibadan and Ife in Nigeria. There the basic dog reigned supreme and was not forthcoming in temperament. I played no games with them. The tawny Nigerian dogs were companions and perhaps were in charge of varmint control as well.
The dogs of the Ethiopian hills were larger, almost Akita-sized, mostly black and white and appeared to have careers as herders and guards for the goats and cattle, under the supervision of incredibly young children. Nigerian goats free lance, answering to no one, human or canine. I never could figure out how ownership was established.
No dogs ventured within view in Somalia or Mozambique where my assignments were mostly in refugee settlements. Either they had not been brought along on the long treks, or... Let's don't even think about it.
Dogs have been a part of African life for many centuries in their basic form which retains its integrity unblemished over the repeated colonial invasions. Dogs are part of the rich lore, and I was not surprised to find many dog-oriented sayings in Wolf and Charlotte Leslau's "African Proverbs" published in 1962 by Peter Pauper Press.
The sayings are divided by country, and reflect feelings about dogs and people which relate to all of us.
CAMEROON: "If you do not step on the dog's tail, he will not bite you."
ETHIOPIA: "The dog I bought bit me; the fire I kindled burned me."
KENYA: "A white dog will not bite another white dog."
MADAGASCAR: "Don't kick a sleeping dog."
SIERRA LEONE: "It is the wandering dog that finds the old bone."
LESOTHO: "Do not call to a dog with a whip in your hand."
That's what famed dog-obedience maven Cal Pierson always told ME.