Bienvenue Jama!

Say hello to the newest member of our crew. Her name is Jama, and we rented her from some guys on the street for a shoot. But...anyone who knows me should think twice before handing me a homeless kitten and then telling me they're going to take it away again.


She's teensy eensy and way too young to have been taken away from her mother. Don't let the closeups fool you, she fits in the palm of my hand. She's learning how to eat itty bitty pieces of fish in sauce and is already practicing pouncing and hissing so I'm sure she'll survive. Congolese cats are skinny scrawny tough things, not like pampered American kitties (hi Suki!).

I'm hoping that nature will kick in and when she's starving enough she'll eat more solid food. I thought about getting her baby formula but my conscience can't handle it when there's millions of children dying in this country from malnutrition. Sorry Jama, it's already in short supply! She has a cardboard box in the office and has already stolen my milk-soaked t-shirt to sleep next to.

I'm taking care of her for the next six weeks until I leave, and then Coco and Francis have promised they'll take her (but only if we could call her Jama). Maybe everyone will get accustomed to her in the office and she can remain the mascot. She sounds like a little bird when she cries and is charmingly unsteady on her feet.


I knew that I'd have a hard time seeing stray animals in Kinshasa and I'd warned Owen to keep me away from them. Too bad he didn't stop Coco from literally dropping her in my lap out of a plastic bag. What could I do?

My dad just emailed me to tell me that my childhood cat Sage passed away a few hours ago. She was 16 so it was her time, but the irony is not lost on me. After I read the email I went and checked on Jama and she's curled up fast asleep next to my t-shirt, smaller than a tennis ball. She already has quite a legacy to live up to. Bonne chance, Jama.