More about Poo.

Look! I'm writing two days in a row. I will try to make it into a habit. What's that fake rule that's something like, if you do something 7 times in a row (maybe it was more like 30? 60?) then it becomes a natural habit?

Anyway, today's topic is back to talking about poop. Ever since I've returned from Ghana, I've made it apart of my personal agenda to feel comfortable talking about bowel movements in front of people. I like the euphemism "poo" since it sounds a bit more fitting for a lady. I think I started becoming closer to my poop when I actually was living in Ghana without running water. Usually if you can make it to the outhouse (which is about a 4 minute walk/2.5 minute desperate jog) than you'll be set, unless there is someone in it, then you're hopping around like a fool. (Cultural note: its rude to greet older people when you're on your way to the shitter. However, after you finish your business you may say hello). The outhouse we used was at a neighbor's house, JJ. Every time you said you were going to JJ's, everyone knew you were going to take a dump or what might resemble a one (more about this later).

The outhouse is three low brick/concrete walls with an opening in the front. The walls are only about 3 feet high. Even if you're sitting, everyone can see you from at least the shoulders up. Also, its adjacent to the "shower room". Just four walls of scrap tin, wood, etc. with a crude drain that would leak out the back so you could bring your bucket of water (that you fetched from the far away well) to bathe in. In the outhouse, there was a deep hole (maybe 10-15 feet) and on top of it was this a little box made of plywood with a crudely cut circle). If you peed at the outhouse, you'd often end up peeing on your feet since it would leak through the box. Alternately, I had to SIT on the outhouse box to do my business. Though I will line toilets here in the states with layers of toilet paper before having my butt actually touch the seat. I'd put my bare bum on that and hope that a maggot didn't crawl out of there and cling to me (one time something similar traumatic happened, that will also have to be for another time).

After you poo, there is a little bucket where you put your disposed paper. When the bucket fills, they burn the paper. Ghana has no trash service. The lack of these public services lead people to the unenvironmental practice of burning ALL TRASH. It smells, especially with the plastic burning, and its not pleasant. Most of the time I used toilet paper, but most people can't afford that. Most folks wiped with old newspaper strips (which is actually very effective). Every where I went (and still do to this day) if I got a napkin served with something, I'd hoard it in my mini-stash of paper supplies. Usually, I just stuffed it in my pocket so I'd never be caught wiping my butt with the day's weather report or other assorted current events.

Most of the time, I had trained my body to only poo in the morning or at night. Reason being once the sun comes out there are flies everywhere. The smell of poo compost coupled with flies circling your head as you try to do your business is quite bothersome. Conversely, the danger about going in the dark is that you're literally pooping into a hole that you can't see. Though most of Africa is quite dark, the village we lived in had a few street lights so it was still semi-bright at night. Even at that, I didn't trust pooping into what seemed a bottomless hole. One time I got to the outhouse and a chicken was just pecking around in there and I tripped over it. The hen got all, "Bwok Bwok bwok!" in my face as if I was the one invading its space. When you couldn't make it to the outhouse, you better find an inconspicuous bush or something. Cover that thing up with dirt or stomp it into the ground. One time I couldn't find anything so I just sort of put a banana leaf over it. If you can dig a little hole so your poo is not just popping out of the ground, that's better too. Kind of like cat litter.