Learning to Blow Ass in the Third World
by DC DAWG
I had the fortune of being a Peace Corps Volunteer
and before any of you start groaning that some do-gooder is about
to preach to you take the Ritalin! As most of us fellow developed
nation citizens know is that we most likely will have a toilet if
the time came when we needed to give birth to the cast of the Titanic.
Comfy seat, nice soft roll and your favorite book...or nudie mag.
It never becomes an issue when in industrialized areas!
Well, I had been living in Uzbekistan,(former Soviet
Union and where our troops are now) for just about two days. I had
just moved into my host families house and before I arrived I had
one last blast on some organism that looked like the Shitter. Still,
I saw my families "Out-House" as my grandfather would
call it, and quickly thought that I was going to hold my crap until
Monday when I went to the training facility hoping there would be
a make-shift throne for me.
My first full day and night I was fine. No rumbling
and just the occasional fart. I was told that the next day I was
going to go down the street to some neighbors home for the celebration
of this 6 year old boys circumcision! Thank You bartender, I will
have another bottle of Wild Turkey! Needless to say, I was thrilled
to see the sucker for such a horrible prank.
I must set the stage here. I am living in the Former
Soviet Union, that equals on thing for sure...TONS of VODKA! Okay,
proceed. What I thought was going to be a nice long rest was rudely
ruined by huge horns being bellowed at around 5 in the morning.
My family rushes in and makes me get dressed and walks me down the
street. I am nervous since I hardly speak the language and I have
no clue who anyone is. Well, I am somewhat relieved when I see another
Volunteer and it is actually his house we are at.
We take our seats at this table for 4 and we are
quickly joined by these two Uzbek men who have this look that they
are going to make us suffer in some form. Well, they weren't going
to do some prison gang rape, but what they did do was a close second.
They proceeded to pour our first shot of vodka punctually at 6 in
the morning. Now, these weren't your typical sissy shots like here
in America. Imagine a small coffee cup full of the White Gold! That
was what was staring at me waiting to get inside me and eat my guts
alive. Well, by 8:30 AM I am plowed into the ground, speaking Uzbek
fluently and making friends like I was cool or something. I thought
I should walk on home to sober up some since I am not too keen on
being loaded before 9 in the morning. After 9 and I have no problem.
Heading back it starts!
Now, for those of you who have lived overseas you
will understand this. Sometimes when you are just being alive your
bowels will turn into your worst enemy. When I say overseas I mean
it. Not some backpacking crap in Europe eating bagels and farting
all the time from the Feta and Goat cheese you spread on everything.
I am talking about food you never knew existed and this was from
a garden! So, I am staggering and I feel like my gut is doing some
salsa dance. I get back to the house and I am thinking that I can
convince my colon to suck everything back in. Nah, the time has
come where I learn how to put myself in a catchers position and
I rummage through my already scavenged bags for
that nice roll of Angel Soft cause my ass feels like Hell is coming!
I get the roll and go to the back of the yard and walk into this
shed. Now, just imagine some rikkety old wood put together with
a floor and there is nothing but a 10 foot hole filled with Turd!
Nice picture huh? Well, I squat down and what seems to feel like
the drain plug being pulled out of a bathtub, the contents of all
45 feet of my intestines, sphincters and colon empty out. I thought
I gave birth to my dad. Granted, 3 inches were lost off my waist!
After just needing to wipe it just two times I stand up, walk out
and throw my arms in the air. I had done it, I learned how to Blow
my ass out in the third world. And I did it everyday until the day
I left Uzbekistan 27 months later.
I still miss those fly infested crap rooms. That
is why I photgraphed every shitter I came into contact with. I don't
really miss them at all. My joints are thankful I do not have to
do that anymore. When you are squatting you can't do the manly thing
and relax. Legs begin to lose feeling after a while. Still, I will
never forget that moment. Better yet, to make sure all the people
in my Volunteer group thought I was strange I commented on how I
gave birth to a family of five over the weekend and that I felt
much better. Readers, you may now throw up on yourselves!