I'll make it as short and sweet as possible. Actually, there is nothing in this tale that is sweet; and if you possess delicate sensibilities, turn away now.


So the day finally arrives. The day when there is no real toilet -- only the pit in the ground. And it's time. Now don't play coy, here . . . you know what time it is. And so one musters all of one's courage and walks from the classroom of 67 people, all of whom also know what time it is. Off to the loo. I don't know what I was expecting; perhaps I had been in denial. There are a dozen little stalls (no doors) . . . I walk to the one that is most remote, for privacy. Now there is no delicate way to put this: all God's creatures poop. We all poop. And sometimes, due to diet or stress, the poop is more poopy. Is that a fair statement? Does that give you the gist of the situation?

Mission accomplished, I returned to classroom, albeit with dizziness, shock, disgust, and the total conviction that the PC is not for me.

Later that morning my roommate announced that she, too, needed the loo. She was terrified. Most natural thing in the world – we were all terrified. I assured her that I'd go with her, walk her through the process, and even stand guard. We approached the first stall, which appeared to be out of order inasmuch as there was a metal cover over the hole. Same story with the next stall, and the next and the next and the next. Metal covers over each hole. So I walk her down to the same latrine that I used. The one with the tiny hole in the floor (about the size of a bathtub drain). She can't go . . . it's all too horrible.

Now here's the earth-shattering part: It wasn't the loo that I had used! It was the shower! My God in heaven! It was the shower that I had used as a toilet . . . for poo! And those metal plates covering the out of order latrines? Those are the covers that always stay in place until the user is ready (reduces flies, as you can imagine)? Those covers gave me no clue, thus indicating just how clueless I am. And to put the finishing touch on this horror tale, there I was trying to instruct others on how to use (or misuse) the SHOWER as a latrine. Oh, the horror! Now come on . . . is that the most embarrassing story, ever?

OK, so you were expecting a certain amount of grubby details, right? And it is these "mishaps" involving daily life that you really want, right? And that wasn't too much info, and you didn't just finish your dinner, right? We can only speculate.