The Plastic Bag Man

Every town in Kenya has its own resident harmless crazy person.  I remember in Loitokitok when the Deaf Eds would meet up to head somewhere to practice our KSL, sometimes we would meet up near the bank, and the local harmless crazy man would come up to us and try to talk with us.  He would wave pieces of papers acting like they were important documents and “talk with us about” these documents.  The first time we met him, I have to admit, he scared the shit out of me (regardless of six years working with the mental health population).  After seeing the man, wearing a headband as a pair of sunglasses, do the same to all the other trainees and the local Kenyans (who humored him and then told him gently to scoot), we all relaxed. 

Kenyans tell stories about the crazy person in their villages, and the crazy things that they do.  I ask about why they’re so matter-of-fact about these people, and they say, well it’s a part of life here.  There’s no good mental institution, no real form of mental service out here, so the people who need treatment are not getting treatment unless they are really violent or harmful to the community, and for those … they just trail off before they finish the thought.  I then ask if it’s like a part of the social fabric of towns across Kenya, and they say, oh hell yeah.  Just like the crippled man sewing the clothes, the Deaf woman who marries into a rich family, the students who have to work early in the morning to herd cows before school, they’re just like a character in their town.  I ask about the families who hide kids with issues such as this, and unfortunately, this does happen, but in many communities, they try to take care of their own. 

I realize that this is true at my school.  We have several mentally handicapped students, who may or may not be Deaf – but are put in our school because our headmaster has a bit of a soft spot regardless of his tough exterior and mannerism.  The teachers love these students like if they are our own; some of these students actually become a favorite of not only the teachers, but also the other students.  We have a new boy who came a couple of months ago and the teachers have named him after a character on a television show because he acted so much like him.  We learn how to manage these students so that their lives are less stressful, and a sort of peaceful co-existing community occurs. 

As for Kilifi, we most definitely have our own crazy man.  For lack of imagination or other descriptive words, I have dubbed him The Plastic Bag Man.  Anyone who has seen him would most definitely agree. 

The first time I encountered this man, he was laying in the divider between the tarmac and a parking lot, and I actually thought he was just a pile of rubbish.  If you have ever visited Kenya, a random pile of garbage is not all that unusual.  Then it moved.  I must have jumped three feet and then realize that it was a man, dressed in plastic bags.  I started seeing that every now and then, almost every inch of his body, except for his face covered by plastic bags.  When my friends visit and we walk down that street, they reacted much the same way I did, and after getting over the fear, we wondered about him. 

At the time of this writing I’m sitting on my couch, sweating like there’s no tomorrow, with the fan facing directly at me, and I’m still hot.  How is he able to stand the heat at high noon in the middle of Kilifi?  Who was he? What was the situation that made him who he is?

I asked around among the teachers about him, and one of the teachers said that he is the brother of the owner of a gas station in town.  I then asked whether there was a falling out or if the family was supportive, and he said that nobody in the family knew why he was like that.  Something just snapped one day and he was like that – the family continues to do what they can to help him, with food, with other necessities. 

He asked me why I was asking about him – and we started talking about how people become such a part of the town, like in Colorado, when I lived there, this man in a knight costume always walked around at one specific intersection, and how that kind of thing occurs in various communities all over the world. 

He said, “Well, you know, it’s life.  He’s not doing any harm, and he seems to be happy doing what he is, so we just let him be.”

Sometimes when there’s not that many options available, maybe it’s just best to let it be.