We have an intern in our office who shared a very timely story about poop with us. Which I, in turn, am now sharing with you.
*For effect, this story will be told in the first person, in the style of an email home.
Ok, so as you know I’m on this mission trip in Chad for the summer. And...well...all I have to say is the nation of Chad can go fuck itself.
First of all, did you know they ONLY speak French here?
That wouldn’t be all that inconvenient except for the fact that I don’t speak any French. And even that wouldn’t be so bad, because immersion is one of the best ways to learn, but I didn’t get the right kind of immersion.
Fuck the nation of Chad though.
I’m outdoorsy. You know this. I like outside. I camp. So living in this little grass hut isn’t so bad. Doing my business in the woods, or field as it were, isn’t so bad. I don’t even have to find a tinkle spot in the grassy plain to handle mine; they have a latrine.
Actually, they have 2 latrines, but this I did not know.
Because I don’t speak French.
Fuck the nation of Chad.
Yesterday afternoon I head over the the latrine. Apparently the older latrine, but again, I did not know there was a new one. Anyway, I pull down my pants; squat; and make with the business.
Know why they have a new latrine? Because the older one had worn down on the bottom. It wasn’t stable anymore. Know why I know it wasn’t stable anymore?
BECAUSE I FELL INTO THE LATRINE!
Feet first, pants around my ankles, fell into a literal pile of shit up to my chest. My chest! A shorter person would have suffocated! Poo to my chest!
“Help! Help!” I call out, but no one comes. “Help” apparently how you call for “help” in French (I’ve since learned).
Finally someone comes and se porter au me out. I am crying, covered in poop, emerging from the old latrine to find all of my village mates sitting down to dinner. What is French for, “Sorry about your appetites?”
Then they told me about the new latrine.
Sincerely, Your Pal
P.S. Fuck the nation of Chad