Posts from my first few weeks (Part 3)

Third post I've been saving... careful, this one gets nasty.

June 17, 2008

Outhouses.

Let me first preface this post by stating that everybody poops. First we eat and then the way that our body naturally gets rid of waste is by releasing bowel movements. There’s even a children’s book about it. I think that Americans tend to be hung up or disgusted by the fact that we poop and often we hide it, disguise it, or even deny it. In Moldova, this is not the case.

My first encounter with a veceu (outhouse) was in the city I am living in on my first day in town with my host family. I just peed and it was really easy. I will admit it, I had to go number two, but was still a bit frightened at the thought and perplexed by the intricacies of squatting, that I really felt I could hold it in during the night. Well, turns out I was able to hold it in for a bit longer than that and by morning when I was ready to go, I couldn’t. My body was already rebelling against me for rebelling against its natural flow.

In the morning I went to ballroom dance practice with my younger host brother and my stomach was not bothering me or anything, so I went along fine expecting to just be backed up for a few days for being so American about pooping the night before. Well, again my body had different plans. Midway through T.'s impressive jive with his dance class, I felt pains in my stomach and an urge to use the bathroom. I held it in through the rest of the jive… and the samba, and the waltz. Finally, as casually as possible, during a break I asked T. where the outhouse was. He took me outside behind the building and walked me through the bush until we finally reached the outhouse. He showed it to me and I went in, but he was still standing there, so I motioned to him to go back inside and that I would be okay (I think I successfully played it off as “I don’t want you to miss your practice” as opposed to “I may be in here a while and I don’t want you to hear me pooping and then tell everyone that the American is pooping” – although he may have a different opinion on this.) Amidst the flies, rotten stench and dirt and mud (maybe not mud?) all over the floor and walls, I had my first Moldovan outhouse poop. It was not a pretty one, but it felt good. The only problem was I didn’t have toilet paper. But being the resourceful guy that I am, I managed to clean everything up with some leaves, a receipt and one of my old Teach For America recruitment director business cards that was magically in my pants pocket out of nowhere. Needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed that last wipe.

When it came down to it, the squatting thing wasn’t really an issue. At first, my body was fighting an urge to sit down on a toilet seat, but when I really had to go, my body’s natural instincts kicked in and led the way. Turns out you don’t have to try to hold onto the sides or lean against the back wall (in fact those are both terrible ideas).

Since my first Moldovan outhouse poop, I’ve had a couple of others. They’re not bad, but my body is still getting used to the whole thing. By the end of my 27 months here, I’m sure I’ll be a professional. Until then, all of you Americans, say a little prayer for your toilet and be grateful you have one. The next time it overflows or clogs or does something that just pisses you off (so to speak), just think of me squatting over a 15 foot hole in the ground trying not fall in… or don’t.