IF YOU EVER BACKPACK in Tunisia, be sure to use the bathroom before stepping out of the airport, as it may be the nicest you’ll use for a while. The restroom ladies might expect a tip, but it’s impossible if you haven’t yet done the currency exchange. Each time I thought it couldn’t be rougher, the next toilet proved me wrong. And each time it was necessary to use the bathroom, the more grateful I was for all of the little things in life here to enjoy. My first two nights were spent in the capitol, Tunis, at a decent hotel. The shared toilet was right around the corner from my room. At times, a puddle accumulated on the ground where the right foot stands while on the toilet. But, there was always toilet paper and the flushing mechanism worked.
Moving on to the city of Sousse, the toilets went downhill. Among so many switches, the bathroom light switch was nowhere to be found. In the raunchy closet of a bathroom whose size required strategic entry, I left the door cracked open allowing the outside passage light to enter. Judging from the smell, it was probably a blessing to not have seen the facility flooded with light.
The next morning, enter the chic, sunny café. After indulging in a café au lait and a croissant whose center revealed a creamy, subtle dab of chocolate, nature called. Although the kind waiter had just given me a napkin for my hands, I forgot to take it with me to the restroom. Crap! Seriously. Instead of stocking the restrooms with toilet paper, there’s always a water hose. In India, it was often a faucet with a mini bucket for water. The greater thing about India is that the toilets were usually squatter-style. Set into the ground, they require one to squat down. In my opinion, they’re brilliantly cleaner. No tissue? No problem. Squatting always allows for a naturally clean break. Here, it’s a rubbery or metal hose, fastened to a faucet, hanging beside the toilet. Rather than wasting paper and clogging the toilets, simply spray the area to be cleaned with water from the hose. Hahahahaha! Oh, how I longed for a squatter style throne. So there I was, having to spray this water hose between my legs and all around. The gracious mirror was big and low, if needed, to ensure everything was washed. In the end, my ass was a little damp, but at least it was clean.
I’ve already written about the shower in Kairoaun, so now I’ll move on to the toilet of Khazazia. Joking, I asked Nadhem if I’d need to go outside for the toilet. Indeed, I did. Among the roaming poultry, not far from the fenced-in sheep, the aunt led me to a small door less, barn-like structure. In the corner were old sheepskins piled onto other things. In the middle of the dusty concrete floor was the toilet bowl, just a bowl. No back, no flusher. Beside it was a large jug of water with a bucket. Auntie lifted a 3-feet-high slab of wood and propped it up against the doorway for privacy. I was truly understanding and living the “right hand is for eating, left hand is for cleansing oneself and using the bathroom” aspect of being in that part of the world.
In Kairoaun, at a café, I used a toilet in a back room where there was no light. Gotta appreciate those flashbulbs on the mobile phones.
At one house, I had to ask someone to show me how to flush by pouring water into the toilet. I didn’t realize it required such a great amount. It wasn’t just any toilet; it was a filthy toilet in a bathroom that smelled like a Porta-Jon. The next day, I had the luxury of showering in that very bathroom. At the time there was no hot water, so they made some for me. In the shower was placed a large plastic tub, filled with warm water and a small bucket for pouring. The bathroom may have been below my standards of cleanliness, but it wasn’t mine. And that day, the dwellers of that house went beyond all expectations to accommodate me and make me feel at home. In the midst of a nasty toilet, my ass was still grateful.
