Ron's Experience in Peace Corps

Retreads

Ron Rioux — Thu, 28 Sep 2006 16:17:00 GMT

One day I was walking down the street in Nanuyki and just as I passed Settler's Store I happened to look down and see what looked like a tire tread on the ground. This was not a whole tread like you might see on the side of the highway when a retreaded tire lets go. This tread was a single rubber zig zag tread that was less than a quarter inch wide. I could not figure out how in the world a single tread could possibly come off of a tire.

I looked around and saw that these treads were lying all around my feet. How could treads come off tires all in one spot? I was baffled. Later that day, I asked my friend Nyamo what caused the tread to come off the tire. He brought me back to the spot where I found the tread; there under the shade of a small roof were two men with old tires in front of them and knives in their hands. As I watched, they carefully cut new treads into the old, bald tires! As they worked, the left over pieces of tire fell to the ground which I realized were what I had found on the ground earlier that day.

Wachira's Funeral

Ron Rioux — Wed, 13 Sep 2006 04:32:00 GMT

Wachira was well known in town because he was a tout and a Rasta. A tout is a person who works at the bus 'stage' and makes sure that the matatus go out as packed with humanity as they can be. Since anyone who traveled from Nanyuki to Nairobi was bound to meet Wachria, he was well known.

After a year and a half of befriending Wachira, he fell ill and died. Not only was Wachira's death was untimely, but he died rather slowly in a bare concrete room at Nanyuki Nursing Home. When I visited him about a week before he died, he could see that I was uncomfortable as he gasped for breath, so he told me "Don't fear."

On the day of his funeral I was told by his girlfriend that I was expected to go down to the morgue with his family and friends to pick up the body. I was very uncomfortable with the prospect and had a tough time avoiding my 'duties' as a close friend of Wachira. I was able to excuse myself however because the procession to the morgue was so late that I had the opportunity to leave for a few minutes and conveniently miss the trip to pick up Wachira's body.

The funeral was to be at Wachira's father's house which was many miles away. All of the available drivers from the bus stage made their vehicles available and many people jumped in the vehicles. The funeral procession was started out from Nanyuki at about 10am and travelled for about a half hour to his father's house. Once we arrived, women with pichers of water and bowls walked around to each of the hundreds of people and let them wash their hands. The women then brought food and we all ate with our hands.

A preacher then began to speak and he spoke for possibly an hour in Wachira's tribal language, Kikuyu which I could not understand. While the preacher was speaking some Rastas stopped by to pay their respects to Wachira though they did not know him. They explained that they heard of a Rasta who had died and were there to say goodbye.

After the preacher finished speaking, Wachira's casket was removed from the pickup truck that had brought him there and it was placed on the ground before the the preacher and a photographer. Over the course of perhaps an hour every conceivable group of people that knew Wachira was called down by the preacher to have their pictures taken with Wachira's casket. I was dreading the time when they would call me to have my picture taken with ther casket. This was so foreign to me and I was very uncomfortable with the idea that I would stand in front of hundreds of people to get my picture taken with my good friend's casket.

Finally I heard the preacher call out on the loudspeaker "Mr. Ron... Mr. Ron... Where is Mr. Ron?" I proceeded to the casket with hundreds of eyes watching the one white man in the whole funeral. Feeling self conscious, I walked right up to the casket and got my picture taken with Wachira's brothers and sisters. However, the preacher then said "Now Mr. Ron alone with (Wachira's father)." So I stood with his father and we had our 'last' picture taken with Wachira. The photography went on for seemingly hours and by the time I arrived home I had been at the funeral for about 8 hours.

Days later I was handed a stack of pictures of the funeral and told to take the one of me and Wachira's father with his casket. As I thumbed through the stack I saw the first picture that had been taken of me with Wachira's brothers and sisters. I could see me standing and facing the camera while all of his brothers and sisters were looking at me. It was not until then that I realized that that I had stood in with his brothers and sisters in their picture!

Got a light or an arc?

Ron Rioux — Wed, 13 Sep 2006 04:29:00 GMT

One day while I was walking down the street I happened to pass an outdoor welding 'shop'. As I watched, a welder without a helmet, put a cigarette in his mouth, leaned over to his work, shut his eyes, and lit his cigarette off an arc that he sparked with his stick welder! Just the thought of shutting your eyes as you put your face within a cigarette's length from a high voltage arc is quite shocking. :)

McDonald's in the Rift Valley

Ron Rioux — Wed, 13 Sep 2006 04:28:00 GMT

During my first week of living in the Rift Valley I went hiking with my a member of my host family and some fellow Peace Corps Volunteers to the edge of the Abedare Plains. I was amazed when I reached the top and saw that the Rift Valley literally stopped and the Abedare Plains began and were so flat that you could see for miles. Yet, when I turned around the Rift Valley dramatically dropped from where I was standing with a beautiful vista that also extended for miles.

As I stood there taking in the view, I looked down and found a piece of volcanic rock. My host family companion said "That falls from the sky." I wondered if this statement was actually an oral history that decended through the generations from a person long ago who actually witnessed the stone falling from the sky during an eruption.

As we turned to walk along the edge of the Valley, I saw a man in the distance approaching us. As he drew near I was amused to see that he was wearing a McDonalds uniform even though there were no McDonalds restaurants in East Africa! This was the first time of many that I would see Kenyans wearing a humorous piece of clothing that had come from bulk shipments of donations from America. For example, another time I saw an old woman wearing a "Metallica" t-shirt and heard from another volunteer that he had seen a young girl with a t-shirt that depicted Donald Duck's nephews, Huey, Dewey, and Louie with red eyes and the caption "Stoned Again!"

The Law of the Touts

Ron Rioux — Wed, 13 Sep 2006 04:12:00 GMT

Here is the definition of tout from thefreedictionary.com: "To solicit customers, votes, or patronage, especially in a brazen way."

One day my friend Wachira who was a tout of a Speed Taxi, handed me an agreement that he had come up with and asked me to print it for him. Here is the agreement that he and his fellow touts has arrived at:

Agreement of 2-4-97 between workers of Nanyuki - Nairobi Stage (Peugeot)

Reading newspapers, sitting in cars, and evading work is prohibited (Sun and Rain included).
Drunkardness whether little or much, if caught, you have to go home till the next day (no payment).
Failure to work fot three consecutive days in a week will entitle you to miss your off duty break.
After off duty, you should be the safe keeper of the day's collection plus being the conductor that day.
If someone disappears with the days collection (money), he should resume work after refunding the whole amount.
If you take one car's money, you should go away for two days.
Lunch break is One (1) hour and tea break should not exceed 1/2 hour.

Note: Subject to alteration in case of anything by management.

Suicide in Nanyuki

Ron Rioux — Mon, 11 Sep 2006 02:02:00 GMT

Here is an article that appeared in "The Laikipia Focus" in July 1997:

"Suicide - A British couple and their pet dog committed suicide early this year at their Nanuki home. The man, Peter, is said to have injected himself with a poisonous substance while his wife Margaret inhaled carbon monoxide with their dog"

Peter was a great painter whose paintings of African Wildlife were sold at the Mt. Kenya Safari Club. He seemed to be depressed in the year or so that I knew him. My observations were that though they were both born in Kenya they lived in a world that was apart from the Africans. They seemed to be isolated from the very country that they lived in due to their 'Colonialist' view of Africans.

In jail for 6 months awaiting trial

Ron Rioux — Sun, 20 Aug 2006 16:44:00 GMT

At the compound where I lived in Nanyuki, we had a night guard which is called an askari in Swahili. He would stand outside for 12 hours a night in the cold air that comes from living on Mt. Kenya.

One day our askari was replaced by someone else. After inquiring of management, I found that he had been arrested for allegedly stealing a pair of pants and two Cokes. After about six months, I inquired again to find out what had become of the askari. I was shocked to hear that this poor man was still sitting in prison awaiting a court date!

The boy who painted Christ black

Ron Rioux — Tue, 15 Aug 2006 22:59:00 GMT

One day I was at the Sportsman's Arms hotel in [Nanuyki] treating myself to some satellite TV and a nice cold Coke. Sportsman's Arms was about the only place in town where you could get more than the one state-run TV channel which was known for airing old soap opera reruns and the WWF (World Wrestling Federation).

I was watching a short American movie called "The boy who painted Christ black" which is about an African American boy that caused controversy in his home town when he painted a picture of a black Christ. While I was watching, the waiter walked over to the TV and changed the channel to the state-run channel which as usual was reporting on what President Moi did that day. I asked the waiter in Swahili why he changed the channel. The waiter pointed across to the bar and said in English, "They told me to." I directed my gaze to where the waiter was pointing. At the bar were seated two burly white South African men whom I had heard speaking for a short while in the background. They looked back at me. Throwing caution to the wind, I turned back to the waiter and said "Well turn it back." The waiter complied.

One of the South Africans turned to me and protested by saying "But it's rubbish!" I turned my attention back to him and demanded "What's rubbish?!" They looked around the room and saw that we were the only white people in the room, had a short disucssion between themselves quietly and turned their attention back to their drinks. I went on to finish watching the movie and they finished their drinks and left.

Some pesticide in your tea, Sir?

Ron Rioux — Tue, 15 Aug 2006 17:09:00 GMT

One morning I was sitting in Mother's Choice restaurant in Nanyuki eating a samosa which is a triangular shaped meat pie and drinking a hot mug of chai which is tea with lots of milk and sugar in it. I was facing the back door which opened into the courtyard at the rear of the restaurant. Suddenly, a chicken came running in the open back door with a woman running close behind with a bloody knife in her hand.

After a prolonged chase around the restaurant with the chicken running under tables and flying over chairs, the woman caught the chicken, smiled at me and proceeded out the back door. As the feathers settled to the floor, the woman proceeded to slaughter the chicken in full view of me as she happened to leave the back door open.

Another morning, I wandered into Mother's Choice again for another samosa and mug of chai. After I ordered, I observed the two waiters as they sprayed a pesticide called 'DOOM' onto cloths and wiped down the tables.

Soon, one of them was called to the kitchen and he returned with my samosa and chai. As I prepared my chai by stirring in a few heaping spoonfuls of sugar, I noticed that now the waiters were playing with the can of DOOM by chasing a fly around as it avoided their attempts to spray it out of the air.

Eventually the fly landed on an open sugar dish but this was not the end of the fun for the waiters, they sprayed the fly while it was sitting on the edge of the dish. As I watched the big black fly simply fly away, I took a sip of my chai and encountered a horrible chemical taste. Needless to say, the next time I wanted a samosa and chai, I wandered elsewhere.

Public Transportation in Kenya

Ron Rioux — Tue, 15 Aug 2006 14:37:00 GMT

Here is a picture of a 'Speed Taxi' out of Nanyuki. As you can see, four people have to sit in a seat that is only big enough for three people. Each trip on public transportation in Kenya is white-knuckled ride.

The volunteer that I replaced in Nanyuki told me about a horrific accident that he had witnessed. He was travelling in a speed taxi in western Kenya when a truck backed out in front of them. The driver had no choice but to swerve off the road and ended up plowing through group of people waiting for a bus. The people who were standing were able to run out of the way, however the people who were sitting on their luggage were unable to get out of the way.

He went on to say that people were bouncing off of the windshield, but the aftermath was even worse as a panic stricken crowd moved in and began to just grab the injured and run. He said it was sickening to see one person grab an injured person's arm and run one way, while another person was pulling on the injured person's leg in another direction.

Life in Nanyuki, Kenya

Ron Rioux — Thu, 10 Aug 2006 00:04:00 GMT

Here is a picture of an mkokoteni which is how many goods are moved through towns in Kenya. Typically, these are made from the rear axle of a pickup truck so the mkokoteni is quite heavy even when it's empty.

I have actually seen a whole car carcase being transported though the town of Nanyuki with one of these mkokotenis on the very same street that this picture was taken. The owners of the mkokotenis work very hard for the money.

Peace Corps

Ron Rioux — Sun, 06 Aug 2006 23:16:00 GMT

I served in Peace Corps from 95' through 97' not including 3 months of 'in-country training'. I lived for the remainder of my tour of duty at the base of Mt. Kenya in the small 'frontier' town of Nanyuki. That time of my life was certainly instumental in shaping my view of the world today.