| A day in the life of Uswahilinite, passport-size toilets | Send to a friend |
| Sunday, 29 January 2012 11:38 |
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CANDID TALK This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it Welcome to this weekly madness meant to send you to a comatose with boredom.I know that by the time you have finished reading it you’ll be pinching yourself and biting your tongue to keep from dozing off as you read it. I am literally biting my tongue so that I don’t, like it has happened before, find myself slouched on computer, drenching the keyboard with drool - snoozing away as my computer junk mockingly winks and blinks at me. You are therefore free to visit other juicier stories in this newspaper.It is at the crack of dawn as I write this. The Uswaz Muezzin is reminding our Muslim brethren that it is time to go for prayers signifying the beginning of yet another gruelling day when I will wear my fingers to the bone on the keyboard churning out similar tirades. By the end of the day, I will be feeling like one whose head is filled with regiments of Makonde drummers. That’s my life! As you all know, communal “passport size” latrines-cum-bathrooms are so placed that when I wake up pressed to empty my bowels, I am forced to cover a considerable distance before getting the much-needed cathartic relief.The situation gets worse especially after having eaten cow (or may be donkey) “socks” also known as “makongoro” or such offals the previous evening. My stomach does all sorts of nauseating acrobatics as a result. Worse still is if I find Tatu the barmaid bathing inside and the queue of other Uswahilinites clutching their water buckets fidgeting outside the passport-size toilet all eager to get in there. Recently, driven by the urge to purge myself of the cow socks that were doing crazy somersaults in my stomach, I rushed into the passport-size toilet, only to be greeted by unsightly bathing Tatu in her birth suit. As I rushed out, all I heard were obscenities that would have made the devil to cover his ears and cringe with consternation. She accused me of deliberately peeping at her as other Uswahilinites giggled with amusement. Bisho Ntongo was not amused for she believed that I did it on purpose.Many are times when tenants have demanded that Mama Mwakilambo our landlady fix the door of the utility she has declined. The door to the toilet is therefore a hanging piece of cloth that covers the lower section of the torso. I am planning to sue Mama Mwakilambo for violating our human rights to enjoy the luxury of bowel emptying. Add this page to your favorite Social Bookmarking websites           |
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