No bodies, no blood, no answers: what happened to Malé's missing cats?

Which is probably why my phone hasn’t stopped ringing. The same question has been raised on every social media platform: "What's happening to the cats in our city?" 

Some accuse us at the city council or the government of hunting and killing them. Others suspect kidnapping and slaughter by people who see cats as a nuisance and public health hazards. There has been speculation of poisoning or a disease outbreak. Whatever the explanation might be, the cats of Malé have gone missing. 

I turned to someone who might actually know what's going on. Aisha Amira is a senior activist with the NGO Welfare for Island Cats. Every morning for three years, she has gone to the parking lot near Salman mosque with bags of rice and tuna. About 50 cats would emerge to greet her with their familiar chorus of meows. 

Last week, only two showed up.

Another group, the Feline Welfare Organisation, runs a well-coordinated feeding effort across nine different locations from the Marrybrown restaurant to the Indira Gandhi Memorial Hospital. Their feeding operation runs on a strict schedule: rice and smoked tuna from 7am to 8:30am, cat food from 4:30pm to 6pm and special meals for smaller cats between 1am and 2am.

I spoke to the NGO’s president, Ahmed Vishan, better known as “Tin.” He has carried out an investigation that rivals a missing person probe.

According to Tin, 125 to 130 cats lived near Marrybrown as recently as May. The population is now down to 40. Some days, it is as few as 15. In the industrial zone, where they previously fed 90 cats, only 17 now show up.

If cats are dying of poisoning or disease, we'd be finding bodies. And if they were being tortured or beaten to death, we'd see the evidence – blood, wounds, trauma. But there's been nothing. No signs of poisoning. No vomiting or frothing at the mouth. No indicators of illness. And the missing cats haven’t reappeared in Hulhumalé, Villimalé, or Thilafushi either.

Tin told me they've looked in every single crevice between the breakwater tetrapods. He even dived out to the reef to check for cat carcasses.

"We have no clue as to what's occurring, it is a total mystery, at this point" he said, clearly frustrated. He told me their concerns had been officially submitted to the animal welfare ministry on June 12.

I also spoke to a few residents who regularly feed cats. Most didn't notice anything alarming. But one observed a drop in cat numbers in Hulhumalé as well.

Only one person offered a possible lead. This resident claimed to have seen a van with a company number plate picking up cats. That's all we've got. No license number. Just a van and a story.

Before I spoke to the NGOs and residents, my first call was to Mohamed Jamsheed, head of the council’s waste management section. I asked him the obvious: has the number of dead cats collected from the streets gone up?

"No," he said. "Although there is no unusual increase, there is a small increase" – a wonderfully bureaucratic way of saying, "I have no idea."

I asked for numbers. How many cats? “We don’t know,” came the reply. 

The city council, which tracks the total tonnage of waste with precision, does not bother to record what’s in the garbage. That includes dead animals. I ended the call with a gentle nudge to Jamsheed: please start counting how many cats are found dead each day. And kindly take a photo or two while you're at it.

On Saturday, I called Animal Welfare Minister Mariyam Mariya. She confirmed complaints from NGOs and concerned citizens.

"We are extremely worried about the declining cat numbers. This is very sad. We are determined to find out what's happening" she told me. "The ministry has now officially reported the matter to the police."

"We are working with the ministry to investigate," a police spokesman said. "We are paying special attention during city patrols. The cause of the decline in cat numbers has not yet been identified. Anyone with information is urged to contact the police or the animal welfare ministry."

The streets, open spaces, parks, sports grounds, and public squares of this island fall under the jurisdiction of the Malé City Council. It is the council's responsibility to manage, clean, and maintain these spaces. That’s not just concrete and trees, but the environment and every living being within it. Yes, that includes cats.

Clearly, most people understand that.

Meanwhile, my phone continues to buzz. I remain as confused and worried as anyone. But unlike most of you, I sit on the city council, so caring and fretting is not enough.

Which is why this week, I will be proposing a formal inquiry into this strange and troubling disappearance. When we sit down to debate, I'll be raising a few questions of my own.

What exactly is the cat facility we built with city council funds doing to help address this issue? Did the government take over the facility to just monitor 30 cats? Is it still operating? Why aren't we regularly picking up, vaccinating, and neutering these animals? Why is the council not using the full authority granted to us under the Decentralisation Act? Shouldn't the council have introduced tagging and registration procedures for pet cats by now? And why, after all these years, are we still not keeping statistics on the cats, or other living beings who share this city with us?

We cannot keep pretending that nothing's happening. Because the cats were here. And now they're not.

  

   

Saif Fathih is a columnist at the Maldives Independent and a serving member of the Malé City Council for Galolhu North. With his educational background in communications, international studies and public policy, he previously worked as a journalist, editor and public policy advisor, with roles including senior policy director at the ministry of national planning and editor of Ocean Weekly Magazine. Saif began his career as a radio producer and presenter at Minivan Radio, writer for Minivan Daily, and translator for the British High Commission and the European Union Mission to Sri Lanka and the Maldives. He is also the host of Ithuru Vaahaka, the Maldives Independent podcast.