A View from the Latrine

Written September 17, 2010

My urination experience in village is one of great contrast. If there was a real-estate section in Loumana’s newspaper, a newspaper that doesn’t exist, and if it did, it surely would not have a real-estate section, but if such a paper did exist, the advertisement of my house would highlight both my douche interne and douche externe. The direct translation is that my house has both and internal and external shower. The literal translation is that my house comes fully equipped with two separate holes: one hole, inside my house, through which bucket-bath water may pass, and a second hole, outside my house, into which waste may fall.

Most Burkinabé families are not as lucky as I am. Most Burkinabé clean and relieve themselves using the same hole. Actually, there is usually two separate holes that both lead to the same basin. This is nice because one doesn’t have to stand where others have squatted when trying to get clean. But since both holes drain to the same basin, the cleansing bucket bath experience is inevitably tainted by the warm rising aroma of sewage.

Returning to my specific latrine situation, I can take my bucket baths indoors a go to the bathroom outdoors. As glamorous as this may sound, my douche externe is nothing more than a deep cement basin designed to catch waste. The 6 inch hole, which serves as a point of entry, is surrounded by a cement walls, 5 feet high, and covered by a tin roof. There is an uneven space between the wall and the tin roof creating an open-air experience. I am fortunate to be able to do my business in privacy, in the shade, and even protected from the rain. A life of luxury I have.

I drink four cups of coffee each morning. I spend that time, and the time before and after, sitting on my porch readying, studying French, practicing Djula or writing, as I am now. Since I drink so much coffee, I probably urinate five times each day before noon. My walk to my douche externe is short but filled with mixed emotions. I dread opening the rickety door, dodging the roaches, checking for scorpions and being suspicious of the toads. But after I find my footing and take aim, my eyes are free to peer over the cement wall and under the tin to gaze at the majestic peaks and cliffs North of Loumana. I pass the moments appreciating the view, temporarily escaping the latrine to imagine the view from atop the tallest peak. Vast, green, with a cool breeze. I promise myself, almost five times a day before noon, that I will soon explore those peaks.

A week later, I stood on top of the highest peak, enjoying the vast green view with a cool breeze looking down on my latrine. The contrast during my urination experience is now even more pronounced. Standing in my latrine, I no longer have to imagine the difference between standing majestically atop a mountain versus above a hole full of sewage.