Disclaimer: The following story was told to me a few years ago. Some details have been changed to protect identity leaks. If you happen to feature in this story and something is incorrect, my apologies, it’s been a while shelved in my memory waiting to be told.
While in Indonesia I met a fellow aid worker who told me this unfortunate story about a young girl travelling through India. Years later, completely unrelated, I met another aid worker who told me the same story. Apparently, my two friends were on the same trip to northern India and their story is a horrific tale of an innocent girl and her poo problem. Yes this is a poo story.
My friends were part of a team deployed in India to assist a church with its social programs. In India guests of honour sit on stage behind the preacher, much like a gospel choir in an African American church. The team had to sit still for hours as music played and the preacher rambled on in a foreign language.
One of the younger girls on the team (we’ll call her Jane) joined the team because her parents thought it good for her to have real-world-experience before university. Traveling wasn’t what she expected. Throughout the trip she’d complained about the food, the sleeping conditions, the long bus rides etc. things that a seasoned traveller relishes.
Jane had been eaten alive by the bugs, her feet were swollen in the heat, and her pretty features were glazed with a constant sweat. Her team had tried to offer support but her negative attitude was wearing them down. Perhaps in another world Jane was a nice person, but under pressure she was unbearably energy draining. The final straw was when she got deli belly.
After a day on the toilet Jane told the team she was over it. She had talked to her parents and wanted to fly home the next day. Everyone agreed her going home was a good idea. Before that could happen events were about to reach an all-time low... or high if you like poo stories.
For whatever reason the team convinced Jane to stay a few more days to help with a current project. She didn’t like it but agreed. Cue the church service scene:
Jane was still recovering from her deli belly. Sitting still for over an hour was becoming torture in the heat so she picked up her water bottle and excused herself from the platform.
Meanwhile Tim, another team member, was experiencing stomach cramps. He was asked to come forward and give a public address on behalf of the team. Tim could feel his bowels moving but couldn’t edge out of the situation, so he stepped up to the podium in his baggy-Thailand-hippie-pants. He got through a brief address when something inside gave way. The translator was still talking when Tim was bounding across the stage with his hand up his butt crack.
He must have looked alarmed because a man ran over to him and motioned if everything was okay. Tim had a clip microphone for his speaking, the kind that clips onto your shirt, and in his angst had forgotten about it. He spoke very little Hindi but enough to say ‘shauchaalay’ which means toilet. He repeated it a few times putting a twist on his accent until the guy understood. He caught Tim’s arm
and with a fast pace led him to the toilet. All the while Tim was plugging his butt with his left hand.
Tim had mistakenly alerted over 500 Indians at a religious gathering that he needed the toilet. But that wasn’t the worst sound the undercover microphone would pass on. The wireless transmitter could pick up signals from about 50ft.
The pair rounded a few corners when the man pointed to a concrete building. There were several concrete cubicles with no doors but a thin fabric curtain hanging over each entrance. Tim chose the closest one and pulled free from the clutch of his guide. Half running, half hopping to the entrance he swung his body round and reversed into the squatty potty. He reached behind him to pull the
curtain aside and used his other hand, previously blocking his tidal flow, to pull his pants down in one swift move.
You guessed it. It would have been the perfect move apart from the stall was already taken by Jane who was dealing with her own stomach cramps. Tim’s momentum and weight didn’t help the situation as he landed his bear bum in her squatted lap. Jane didn’t know what hit her but it felt warm.
It was the shrilling screaming that the gathered crowd was surprised to hear, because they weren’t sure if it came from the PA system or the toilet block behind them. It turns out the sound technician was Tim’s guide and had ran from his mixing desk to help the situation. He was powerless to stop the sound. Thankfully most religious Indians don’t know English expletives.
Jane took the next flight home and was never seen again. Travelling often produces some great stories, but I doubt my outdoor escapes and international adventures can top such a tragic deli belly story. I hope you’ve picked the moral here; she would have been fine had she been sporting a pair of Vilo sunglasses.
If you have any similar experiences be sure to let us know in the comments... and it’s ok to start with, ‘a friend of mine...’
A story by Matthew Guddatt