Peace Corps Short Stories: Popo in the Choo
The strong cool wind blows through the gaps of the tin roof as I toss and turn on my new mattress. The plastic cover protects it from the dusty concrete floor of my village house. It crinkles loudly as I toss and turn in the quiet night.
It was my first night at my Peace Corps site in Manyoni, Tanzania. I was surrounded by my bags I traveled with, a few pots and buckets, and the mattress still wrapped in plastic I was able to purchase earlier that day. I was exhausted from the previous dayโs 14 hour bus ride from Dar es Salaam and was too tired to sleep. I sighed deeply realizing that I had to use the bathroom. No big deal right?
Wrong.
My โbathroomโ was a pit latrine about 20 feet from my backdoor, in a yard with a half finished wooden fence, in any area known to have black mambas, spitting cobras, baboons, and hyena. Since the fence was unfinished, people could see me going back and forth. I decided I didnโt want to draw attention myself on my first night, I turned off my headlamp, looked at the clear Milky Way above and shuddered at the increasingly raging wind. I slipped on my bright pinkย house flip flops and walked to the pit latrine.
I opened the tin door and placed a foot on each of the blocks. I left my lamp off not wanting to see how dirty or what bugs were around. I closed my eyes and hoped to get it over with as quickly as possible. It was windy even in the little outhouse, and I made a mental note to have the door and roof checked.
Then I realized somethingโฆ.the wind wasnโt coming from outside.
It was coming from inside. I reluctantly turned on my headlamp and looked down just as a bat flew out from the pit latrine hole in between in my legs.
It was like Rosemaryโs Baby and I covered my mouth so I wouldnโt scream and wake the village up. Popo in the choo, POPO IN THE CHOO. I wildly thought to myself.
I gathered myself and eventually made it out of the outhouse, closed my eyes and shook my head.
Popo in the Choo means โBats in the Toiletโ in Swahili. Thatโs all I could think of after 3 intensive months of language training in a homestay in that exact moment.
This is fine. I can do this! I can survive here for two years. I said, reassuring myself.
I walked back inside and climbed back on my mattress, plastic crinkling loudly, feeling somewhat satisfied I dealt with my first issue at site calmly while muttering Popo in the Choo to myself repeatedly.
I was nicely cocooned for the night when I see something move at my feet. I looked closer, afraid to turn on my headlamp again. I couldnโt tell what it was.
No. Donโt turn on your light. Go back to sleep.
The wind finally settled down. Whatever it was, it was so quiet, that I could hear it crawling over my things.
I turned my headlamp on like a fool.
What the actualโฆWHAT. IS. THAT.
I jumped up and stumbled backwards โ runningย around my empty concrete house a couple of times to properly freak out while trying to find something to kill it from a distance.
It darted across the room. Fast. Why are things here SO FAST.
NO. NOT TONIGHT. NOT MY FIRST DAY. I WILL NOT.
I eyed my Banana Republic heels in the corner. I brought them to Tanzania for my swearing in at the U.S. Embassy (I was higher maintenance back then). I grabbed one and turned on my headlamp on its brightest setting scanning the room for it.
It was a CAMEL SPIDER. I didnโt know that at the time, but it looked dangerous enough to me.
I ran in a few circles in my tiny concrete house to wind up some courage as I crept up to this speedy demon and ATTACKED. I bludgeoned it with my heel against the the wall.
โUGH NO. NOT TONIGHT. IโM SORRY. AHHHHHH! YOU WILL NOT. TAKE. ME. TO. HELL!โ
It was done.
I pushed the carcass out my door, the grisly scene only recognized by the large black mark on my white-washed wall.
I scanned the room with my headlamp and crawled back into my sleeping bag onto my crinkly mattress and sighed deeply, listening the wind picked up again outside and I finally fell asleep on my first night in my desert village in Tanzania.
