Mission Update 8: How I Was Violated by a Mentally Handicapped African Man or Adios Machakos!

Now before I tell the story that has given the name to this update, I must give some back story. A few days after returning from Rwanda, I was headed to Scott Theological College in the town of Machakos to film the Africa Based Orientation (ABO). Andy was producing a video on the entire orientation process for full term missionaries. We also drove a man named Henry, who used to come beg at the door, because he said he needed to go to Machakos.

On the drive there, the road eventually smoothed out after a long stretch of rough, uneven, and practically nonexistent road. When we hit the nice part of the road, Andy picked up speed since there was no traffic to slow us down, and it is a treat to drive at normal highways speeds, without getting your brain rattled to a pulp, in Kenya. As we were cruising along, and I was looking at the pretty mountains ahead of us, the Land Rover suddenly lurched. Everything, including ourselves, became airborne in the cabin for half a second, then crashed back into the seats. I looked at Andy, “sorry about that guys, it was an unpainted speed bump.” We hit about 4 or 5 more unpainted speed bumps every 200 yards. None of them had an kind of sign or marking for them. We imagined that the people from around that area must have done that on purpose so that they could sit out next to their shops and watch the cars crashing into them at breakneck speed. We called it a bad idea, but they called it free entertainment.

After arriving in Machakos, Henry told us that he needed some money for the return journey, unfortunately we didn’t have any bills small enough, so we sent him to go get change. While waiting for Henry to return, a man wearing a bright purple sweater came up to the car and started looking in, then he came to both sides and shook our hands. I noticed that his face didn’t look entirely normal and the way he walked around seemed odd too then I realized that it was because he was somehow mentally handicapped. He stared in the car some more, and then walked across the street. I watched him try to shake the hand of a Kenyan man, wearing an expensive suit, but the man shoved him away with an angry grimace and a few unkind words. Andy went and found Henry, and then we left for the college.

We filmed some of the ABO sessions, and then caught up with Loren* and his wife Donna who run ABO. Later we also met up with Mike*, who teaches at Scott, and his wife Kim. He invited all of us to eat dinner at his place, which was much appreciated since homemade pizza is much more exciting than Kenyan cafeteria food. Besides, we got to see some of his old home videos he made as a teenager, which was thoroughly entertaining.

The group went to town for a mosque visit and a chance to see some Kenyan city culture. We took boda boda, which are bicycles with padded rear seats, to town. Andy wanted to film in town, so I carried the camera, and even took some shots from the bike. Since we didn’t have permission to film in the mosque, we split up with the rest of the group after arriving.

While walking through town, we ran into the man in the purple sweater again. Andy managed to step around him and continue walking, but I was less nimble with the large camera and monopod. I had to maneuver around him while shaking his hand, which I managed to do, but before I could turn around and keep walking, he took a long step forward and grabbed me in a big bear hug. A group of men hanging out in a barber shop had been watching the whole scene and started giggling and making cooing sounds usually reserved for babies. I gave him a little pat on the back to be kind and then started to try and push away without dropping the camera or leaving it exposed for someone to take it. While I was still pulling away, as my head was in mid-turn, I felt the wettest, sloppiest, most disgusting, saliva and snot filled kiss that I have ever received, straight on my neck. At this point, the peanut gallery sitting in the barber shop erupted into laughter, I managed to pry myself from the guy’s arms then catch up with Andy, who was looking across the street completely oblivious of the whole situation, “Did you see any of that?” I asked. “See what?” he replied. “Never mind, I’ll tell you when your older**. Let’s get out of here!”

We went to a nearby market and bought some bows and arrows for the boys. As we walked back to meet up with the group, I noticed people were staring at us more than usual. After a quick self examination, the reason was obvious. A couple of white men walking around, carrying 2 bows with arrows, and a huge movie camera propped on a monopod. A little girl was sitting on the curb and her eyes were like 2 special order party platters of wonder and disbelief as she stared. As soon as our backs were turned to her she yelled something about the wazungu and a “picha”*** to her laughing mother. We met back up with the group and crammed into little 3 wheeled public transportation vehicles called tuk-tuks, which got passed by a couple bikes going uphill, and returned to the campus. I ran to the bathroom and washed my neck off with as much soap as I could use with out burning a hole in my throat.****

As we were leaving, I thought about all the wonderful experiences I had in Machakos; getting stared at, carrying heavy equipment around, filming a lot of interviews, getting crammed in a tiny vehicle, and ,of course, being violated by a man. “You know, Andy, I don’t think I am going to really miss this place”, “really?”, “and on that thought...”, I paused and looked back at the town getting farther away, “Adios Machakos!”

The trip back involved carefully looking for the invisible speed bumps, passing huge trucks that were sandblasting us on the rough road, and finally making it to a calm, smooth road, where there was a sign saying “WARNING: Rough Road Ahead!” At that point I couldn’t help myself, “Hey Andy, watch out! There is a rough road ahead!”, he responded in the most animated of voices, “Oh no! not a rough road!”, “I think they misplaced that sign by about 10 miles back there.” It was smooth sailing all the way home.*****


*Both Loren and Mike had been at the Men’s Retreat.
**He was older about 3 minutes later when I had come to terms with the fact that I had just been violated by a homeless mentally handicapped African man wearing a purple sweater, which is as awkward as it sounds.
***Translates into “picture” or “camera”.
****It is important that I mention the un-ceremonial washing because my future wife may read this someday and I don’t want to her to be too grossed out.
*****Just in case you couldn’t tell already, I really like footnotes!