The book review:
Thanks to Frank Shea for recommending this book. It is a memoir in which Brother Alois recounts with self-effacing humor anecdotes of interactions with the mostly Nandi people who lived around his school at Tindinyo. I could not find Tindinyo on my Kenyan road map, but surmise (from his text) that it lies in the Kakamega Forest, east of the Kisumu/Kakamega road towards Kapsabet.

Brother Alois was head of a small congregation of Xaverian brothers charged with running the minor seminary/noviate at Tindinyo. He spent five years there in the early 1970’s. Very little of the book, however, has to do with religious matters or affairs of the school. Rather, Brother Alois recounts many encounters with local people and his efforts to get to know and to help them. As the good brother relates, this was cultural clash from the very beginning. He was western, organized and punctual, but willing—even anxious—to go an extra mile to be helpful, yet, at least initially he always wanted to be in control and to give only on his own terms. On the other hand, he found rural folk with different values regarding time, work ethic or judgment of appropriateness; nonetheless, they were infused with a profound sense of family and community, especially in times of crisis.

Alois seemed always to be there at times of crisis. Apparently possessed of the only vehicle in the area, he was summoned at all hours for emergencies, mostly trips to the hospital or the police station. He also provided transportation for the dead and mourners. He was a friend to the weak and confidant of the downtrodden. Such incidents provide the grist for his tales.

Despite his obvious affection for his neighbors, a sense of condescension emerges when reading Brother Alois’ book today. However, put in the context of the times (and the late sixties/early seventies were my Peace Corps times, furthermore Tindinyo was not far from my posting at Songhor (also difficult to find on the map)), Alois’ recollections resonate realistically. Rural Kenya then was, in fact, a much more rural place than it is today and its people were less attuned to modern ways and more in tune with themselves and their traditions. Alois’ coming to grips with these differences is part of the charm of his memoir. Alois comes across as a strange mixture of arrogance and humbleness. To his credit, he fully recognized his shortcomings, which he strove to overcome as he became more intermeshed in his community. Over time, he gained a better understanding of his neighbors and of his role—even his intrusion—into their lives. This is a lesson that all PCVs learn to some extent. Reciprocally, through interactions with Brother Alois, Nandi farmers and their families learned more about coping with the modern world that was crashing down upon them.

Kenyan RPCVs will enjoy this memoir. You will recall similar situations and profit from comparing how Alois dealt with issues with how you remember reacting.

I purchased the book from Amazon for the amazing price of $5. I googled Brother Alois whom I intended to telephone for a chat, but was sad to learn that he died in May 2005 at the age of ninety.