Vampire Shit

Have you ever had that kind of shit that vows it must tear your butt hole before it makes its grand exit? It's very hard and  very long. Please, get your mind out of the gutter. It's so hard to come out that you have to hold both ankles just to give yourself the illusion that the shit is suddenly sliding out better.  The difficulty with which it forces its way out makes your eyes water. You yelp out, moan, and groan --- not for pleasure, but for pain. 

It's that kind of shit that while you're at it, you beg God for forgiveness and promise swear that you will never, ever, ever disobey His word again, that you'll go to church three times a week, that you'll become a better worker in church, and that you'll evangelize His goodness to the world.  


It's the kind of shit that has everybody in the house spitting and saying, "Hmm! Tufia kwa!" as they walk around. They ask, "What did you do in that toilet? It stinks!" It's the kind of shit that stinks so bad that you don't even bother using an air freshener. Why bother?  When you get up from the commode and stir back at the object of your misery, you are filled with shock, confusion, excitement, and trepidation. A fleeting thought passes by: maybe you should take a picture and put it on Twitter. Those folks would love to see anything. You quickly dismiss the thought.


I call it the vampire shit.  Have you ever had that kind of shit? 


No?


Me neither. Just thought I'd ask.

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Alright, I Confess.....I DID IT!!!

Yes, I did it!! I cannot take it anymore....the shame. The guilt. The nightmares!!! Oh, for the love of God, forgive me, I did it. I cannot bear this burden in my heart anymore. I must confess.

Several years ago (way before I migrated to US of A), I spent Christmas in my maternal grandmother's house in the village. I loved having several trees of sweet oranges @ my disposal. I loved being able to eat okpa (that thing like moi moi they make in a leaf) any time I wanted. I loved being able to eat that sweet fruit...still don't know its name, but the back is green and inside is white with seeds. So milky & sweet! I loved all the fruits @ my disposal in fact.

But I hated some things too. I hated the heat. I had to take showers several times a day. I hated the dust. I hated my grandmother's huge turkey that used to chase me around the compound. It always stood outside the door whenever I went to take a shower, so I always had to scream 4 help. Someone always had to come and chase the darn thing away. I think it had a crush on my; I don't know if I should be flattered, amused, worried, or scared. Right now, I'm all of the above. I hated the fact that the bathroom and the toilet were outside the house. I hated the way people always felt the need to touch me or pull my cheeks. I hate being touched by strangers.

Most of all, I hated the toilet. It was a pit toilet! I have a big enough problem being in other people's bathroom, so that pit toilet was torture for me. I never saw poop on the floor, but I always imagined it to be there. The sounds of buzzing flies never made it easier for me either. The idea of exposing my butt hole to a pit full of other people's poop was just not appealing to me. What if a fly that had touched someone else's poop came and perched on my butt? Or worse, my face? Eww!! I hated the dinginess of that toilet. I just couldn't stand it. So I devised a plan. Oh, yes, indeed, I did.

You know those 'santana bags?' Those clear bags they use to bag things in Naija (like peanuts)? Yeah, well, grandma had loadz of them. So guess what I did. I only pooped when I was ready to take a shower. And how did I do it, you ask? In the bag of course! I did it in the bathroom where there were no flies buzzing around. So whatever happened to the bagfuls of poop? Oh, well, I kinda sorta flung them over fence..... into my grandma's farm!!

Before you judge me, I did not know that was part of my grandma's farm! I thought it belonged to someone else. Yes, how very selfish of me, I know. And I was only about maybe 13 or 14 then (not that I wouldn't do it again if the chance presented itself...). So all through the time I was in the village, I flung all my poop across the fence. It was a perfect plan. No1 ever knew what I did. Every time I did it, a mischievous smile crept upon my face, a smile that was often confused as innocense. Ah, if only they knew!

But several years later, my grandma migrated to the States (2002, to be precise), and one day, she and my mother somehow talked about the farm. Hehehehehehe. Well, let's just say my grandma told my mother about how she had found bags of poop in her farm. Walahi, it took all the strength I had to not burst out laughing. What made it funnier was that I was my mother's first suspect. I dunno why. Did she really think of me as someone who was that mischievous? My feelings were hurt...NOT!

So, of course, I kept a straight face and denied it squarely. I went as far as saying how nasty it was for someone to do such a terrible, terrible thing! Seriously, how could some1 in their right mind poop in a bag and then fling it into someone's farm? People can be so cruel! Yeah, whatever.

So, there goes my confession. I am free. Let my grandma not say I never admitted guilt.

Why NOT To Chill In A Public Restroom

Techinically, I wasn't chilling. I went in there for a reason. Heaven knows that I only pee in a public restroom when I have to, so I definitely will not be going in there to chill. What the puck! Yes, I said 'puck'. I learnt it from Funmi's three year old baby who said, 'what the puck?' I thought it was so cute, so now I say it every now & then. Well, I don't mean cute as in awwww, she said her first f-word, but cute as in awww, she mispronounced it. Okay, obviously, there is no way for me to say this and meaningfully justify or explain the cuteness of a three year old saying 'puck'. And if you're wondering, the baby learnt it from Funmi's younger brother. And no, I do not at any time of my life - consciously or unconsciously - include the f-word in my vocabulary. Back to my post...

On Monday, July 27th 2008, I was to meet someone at Macy's. I picked Macy's as the spot because I was going to go do some laptop window shopping @ Best Buy which was a few blocks down. As it turned out, I was too tired & exhausted to go to Best Buy, so I just went to Macy's. I was even too tired to shop - not that I had the money sha. My eyes were a bit pink, revealing the limited sleep I had the night before. I literally dragged myself through Macy's. I was even too tired to sniff perfumes, so you gotta believe me when I say I was tired. All I did was circle the shoe section and try on as many shoes as I could, nothing strenuous. About five different women asked me if I needed help. Wetin na?? I no fit try shoe for free again??? *hiss*

When the time to meet the person was getting close, I decided to do myself a favor and go to the restroom to 'powder my nose.' Who even coined this phrase? Does any1 actually go in2 the restroom to powder their nose? Once you enter the bathroom, there are two aisles - one by the left and one by the right. I went to the aisle by the left. I cleaned the leather couch in there and put my bag on it. Alas, I was finally going to use the little make-up I had been carrying in my bag for ages.

My people, there I was oh, jejely opening my blush kini when some Oyibo lady walked in. The haste with which she had walked in should have told me that all wasn't well. This lady went into the stall behind me and next thing I heard was ppppprprrrruuuuuuu ppppprrrruuuuuu prrrrrruuuuuu. Goodness! That one na proper cholera o. I just packed my stuff and quickly ran to the other aisle. Before I could even get to the end of that aisle, a powerful stench almost blew me away. In fact, I was blown away. I didn't have to look far to notice the big feet in a pair of athletic shoes inside one of the stalls. Me sef, I begin dey wonder whether na man abi na woman wey dey inside stall. I had to organize myself o. So yes, I just left the bathroom completely.

Fifteen minutes later, I went back in. I saw the first lady coming out of the bathroom. The look on her face was, "Uh oh, she knows what I did in there." Me sef, the look I hoped was on my own face was, "Yes, I know what you did in there." So the stalls were free. Awesome. I went back to the left aisle of the bathroom because Mrs. Big Feet was still in her stall on the right aisle. I was just beginning oh when some Mexican - to be politically correct, let's call her Hispanic/Latino/Spanish - woman went to that same stall (the one where Mrs. Guilty Shitter had just exited), and before I could blink, she started her own session.

You've gotta be kidding me! That's what I was thinking. Which kin nonsense temptation be that na? The only thing worse than smelling of shit is smelling of someone else's shit. So I ran out of the bathroom again. About ten minutes later, I went back to the right aisle. This time, Mrs. Big Feet wasn't there anymore. I was able to successfully finish powdering my nose and combing my hair to look presentable. Thank God I also had perfume in my bag - two for that matter. Some day, I'll blog about all the crap in my bag.

I washed my hands and left the bathroom, but then I realized I didn't have lotion in my bag. I decided to go to the lotion/perfume section to get a little dab of lotion. As if I had not been traumatized enough, I was walking towards the perfume and lotion section when some nosy Black lady who was waiting for her friend to try on shoes asked me if I had gotten a makeover from Mac. Means what?! Did I look that jacked up before? Of course, I didn't ask. I think I knew what the answer would have been.

To compensate for all the mental injury that Macy's and its customers had caused me, I went to the lotion/perfume aisle and poured some of the lotion (Unforgiveable Woman by Sean John) into my little lotion bottle. Wetin? No be steal I steal am now. Na sample I dey sample. Honestly, I had been planning on going to Victoria's Secret to get more lotion, but there I was, in a section full of several sample lotions. Ah, I couldn't let the opportunity pass me by oh. I filled up on my bottle sharp sharp! In fact, when this lotion finishes, I shall revisit Macy's and fill up with a new kinda lotion. Who knew that such an expensive, nice-smelling lotion could come at such an affordable price?

As for those women who wanted to reperfume me with the stench of their shit, e no go better for them @ allll. If no be say I don change sef, I for don invoke cholera for their side.

Now that you're done laughing at me, please take a moment to read my new article, Poles Apart. Thanks!!