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TEAAers Remember Gene Ashby
Ann Dickinson
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We mourn the passing of Gene who was truly a unique individual. The following remembrances by John Dwyer, Moses Howard and Linda Kunz present an overview of Gene's life. Other comments and stories elaborating on his colorful personality are also included. |
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Patricia Colby: When candidates for Wave 1 were being interviewed in California, the interviewer asked me and others what they knew of East Africa. They parroted what they'd hastily read in preparation for the interview. When it was Gene's turn, the interviewer asked what he knew about East Africa and he said, "Not a damn thing, Sir." When Wave 1-C was at Columbia, Gene rigged up a basket system to lower bottles of wine, notes, etc. from his room to recipients on the floor below. Sharon Lybeck Hartmann: Because he was the oldest of the TEA-1-C groupers -- or at least we thought he was (he was 30, we were mostly 21 and 22) -- the women of the group began to call him "Daddy Gene." John Allen: Rich Abrams and I were in the "learning how to become a teacher" group of the first TEA group. That is, we spent at least one semester at Makerere and did our student teaching before being sent off to teach in April of 1962. Gene spent some time at Makerere and was assigned to begin teaching probably around the beginning of the year. Rich and I borrowed Gary Bell's VW beetle and drove from Kampala through Nairobi to Mombasa. In fact we did so when the road was closed because of flooding - but we didn't know that when we started from Nairobi. In any event we made it. We had arranged with Gene to visit him in Malindi. In fact we arrived at his school and at his new home several hours before he did! Thus, when Gene arrived we were already there settling in nicely. He appreciated the help with moving in. Ann Russell Dickinson: During our TEA-1-C training program in NYC/London/Kampala, wherever Gene hung out was 'party central' for our group. So it just seemed natural that I would convince my fiance Paul (now husband of 44 yrs), who was at Mulago Hospital for externship training, to drive from Kampala to Mombasa to attend Gene's New Year's Eve party. We had no idea where Gene lived but we were told to just ask for directions at a Mombasa bar that he frequented. When we found his home it was already packed with TEAers who had come from far and wide, so quite a few of us ended up spending the night in his yard under trees that dropped fruit on us all night. Some memories of that event - one bedroom in the house was designated as the married couples' room; somebody got so sunburned that they needed medical attention; and I picked up amoebic dysentery that landed me in a hospital getting IV fluids. Dhirajchandra T. Joshi: When Gene got married to Peggy Murdoch in the Kampala Court House, I was his best man. Afterwards they went on a motorbike from Kampala to Mombasa for their honeymoon. The last time I saw Gene and Peggy was at the Kampala Railway station when they were leaving for good from Uganda. I was sorry to hear about his death. My condolences to his family. Nancy Mahr: He was a very nice man. Gene was part of our training crew at Columbia in 1964. He was a memorable person and I'm sorry that I lost touch. Lloyd Sherman: I have some stories from working with Geneat Teachers College when he was director of Peace Corps Training and I was coordinator of technical studies. We had so much fun those years, but can't think of a story that I could tell to mixed company. John Dwyer: I don't remember the invitation, just our enthusiastic acceptance of the opportunity to spend some of the 1962 Christmas season at Gene's place, Shimo La Tewa, his school near Mombasa. Gene's hospitality was legendary; he made visitors into friends shortly before the first Tusker had been drained. The key to that friendship, I learned, was his pleasure in reaching out and asking questions. The parts about him could wait; now was Gene's time for you. After we finished our TEA tours, Gene and I ended up in New York together, each of us in graduate programs at Columbia. I remember us pounding the pavement, seeking an affordable apartment to share. We found one: five rooms at 533 West 112th, $135 per month. This was the fall of 1964. Cornelia and I were married in June of 1965. Although the apartment was technically in his name, Gene graciously agreed to move out. Cornelia and I always considered that action to be the finest of our wedding presents. We kept our friendship and our shared interests. We both were trainers of Peace Corps volunteers in New York and we each brought our wives back to Kampala in the late 1960s. Our firstborn was christened at the Catholic chapel at Makerere, and Gene and Peggy stood in for his stateside godparents. Gene became a prolific writer in his Pohnpei years, publishing books on the history and culture of Micronesia and contributing regularly to Pacific Magazine. From our conversations in the 60s, I remember Gene's admiration for the novelist and short story writer, Walter Van Tilburg Clark, author of THE OX-BOW INCIDENT. I'm sure Clark inspired Gene to produce some fiction as well. Among Gene's many qualities were thoughtfulness and generosity. Knowing of my curiosity about his Pohnpei life, Gene often sent me copies of his latest publications such as NEVER AND ALWAYS, SOME THINGS OF VALUE, and POHNPEI, AN ISLAND ARGOSY. Inevitably, above the "Love, Gene," was his dedication: "From the Edge of Paradise." Moses Howard: Gene Ashby had so much clout back at Columbia University and with the Ambassador in Kampala that all Americans around Makerere and the National Teachers College at Kyamboga thought he was a CIA Agent. He was director of a wave of TEEA; I do not remember which one but when TEEA ended he was selected to make sure that we got out of the country when our tours were finished. Gene was a former Marine and he was strong and fit. He drank beer and any kind of booze. You might have seen him tipsy at the English Sundowners in Kampala often but you never saw him drunk. He was a congenial, funny guy who loved to crack jokes on his friends. If you were a friend of Gene's who took him seriously, you did not remain a friend for long. He was honest and told things as they were. Many people did not like his raw truths but accepted them because he was never malicious. Gene and I took a bus load of male and female students on an excursion from the College in Kampala to Nairobi and the beaches of Mombasa. Most of the students had never been outside of Uganda before. We had a joyful educational trip, stopping to picnic, study the escarpment of the rift valley and repair tire punctures. We spent three days on the beaches of Mombasa, diving, swimming, snorkeling and riding on the backs of the big ancient turtles. We collected marine specimens and transported them back to the delight of the students of the college. Students wrote compositions, painted pictures and studied maps during the trip. They said it was the most fun filled, the most enjoyable and educational trip they had ever made. Almost all of us remember Gene and Peggy's motorcycle trip to Nairobi where the couple got married and honeymooned on the 'hog' on the way back to Uganda. They didn't act like newlyweds on their return and that reinforced the idea that Gene and Peggy were both with the CIA and the marriage was a front so that they could work closely together. Gene and Peggy came to visit me and my Mututsi wife at our Shamba in Ankole, near Mbarara. It was at the time just before Amin staged his coup. Two American reporters had gone missing while researching atrocities and irregularities at the Simba Army Barracks near Mbarara and rumors were flying about Amin having ties with Khadfi in Libya. At this visit Gene joined in the talking and singing and drumming and drinking but later that evening he asked me if I knew the bars in town and could we drive to the town of Mbarara. We did and he joked around with barmaids and soldiers and after that he asked me if we could drive out near the barracks. I must admit that made me kind of anxious but we went to the gates of the barracks and he was all eyes while we joked around with the sentries on duty. My wife's niece knew Amin and had visited in the barracks and Gene spoke to her in great detail, always appearing to joke with her. We never spoke of it but I always thought he was doing a cursory investigation for the American Government. Later I saw an article in Time magazine that reminded me of the things we'd seen that night at the barracks. A description of it was tied into an article about the two missing American reporters who later were found dead. It sounded like something we had seen in our visit to the barracks. I always thought Gene was somehow connected to that article. After we came back to the United States Peggy visited us here in Washington, but by that time Gene was in Micronesia. I have received several letters from him over the years since then and once he sent me a copy of writings of his students and staff in Micronesia which he had compiled into an interesting book. Linda Kunz: I was very saddened to learn of Gene's death. In spite of the fact that we lost touch over many years, we were good friends in the New York/London/Kampala/Kenya years and then again in New York back at Columbia University. Just this past weekend I had a chance to read from the two books he wrote and edited on Micronesia because Emilee Hines Cantieri had them at her home in North Carolina. Reading those books brought back a quality in Gene that I saw in all the settings we found ourselves in. He was a little older than most of us in 1961 (31, I think -- wow!) and had been in the service and also "around." He had a casual charm that made it easy to sip a beer and tell the deepest concerns of your young life feeling that you'd never get a lecture but rather some down-to-earth empathy. I took advantage of that gift of his in the exciting three-city days of TEA1C training and then again when he was my closest American neighbor on the Kenya coast. Even back in New York, I so vividly remember the night of the great New York blackout of '65. Gene and I and a few others just found our way almost automatically to the familiar bar across the street from Teachers College, Columbia University, and rightly anticipated that beer would be on the house. And who needs electricity when you have beer and the kind of rich conversation that Gene was so central to. That's what shows up in his books: a keen, nonjudgmental interest in other people, their thoughts and ways, no matter how different from his own. He was so much an individual yet as adaptable as a chameleon. I wish he were still with us, but I'm glad we can share memories as unique as the man himself. |