I’m going to speak a bit about bowel movements, so for those who want to get off the bus, now is the time. Years ago, my first night in the serious Outback, under more stars than I’ve ever seen, except in the Gobi Desert, I heard some of the best and sharpest advice ever. “Do your business before sunrise.” The speaker was a white man, maybe ten years older—but he’d spent so much of his life with indigenous Australians, in settlement camps, on geologic surveys and walkabouts of many kinds, he’d lost his color and his culture. He was the kind of bloke you want to have with you when you break an axle 500 kms from anywhere. He was to 4WDs what Bob was to fixed wing and rotary aircraft in very lonely places. Now, I had been in environments like Borneo and the island jungles by then, and I knew exactly what he was saying. A Canadian woman in our party did not grasp his message, and I hear her post dawn consternation to this day. He was talking about the stinging, swarming harassment and infernal misery of insane black flies when you have your daks down and are trying to have a proper squat. In the developed nations of the Cargo West, we take entirely for granted not only a certain level of hygiene in restroom conveniences, and the practical miracle of plumbing—but more importantly—privacy—from insects, and also the probing eyes of locals. When I lived in a humble mountain village in Vanuatu, with extremely basic open-air dug out latrines, the kids were at first very curious about my bodily needs and behaviors. It was disconcerting to say the least to be watched in that vulnerable state. I did two things. I adapted my diet to suit as closely as I could what everyone else was eating (which eased and smoothed the resulting digestive process). And I invited the young ones along when the time came. I’m going now! Of course, it didn’t take long for them to get bored and to realize there was nothing unusual to see. I soon had privacy—in the sense of no one looking especially at me. But I had to learn how to manage this personal meat body function in social terms. Flies were a problem there too. So, everyone geared for release at more or less the same time. The essential sociality of being human. Western folk who need the nicety of privacy when it comes to urination, defecation or menstruation, or whatever, should consider what an enormous and utterly artificial luxury this is. To actually expect to sit on a clean toilet all on your own is really quite remarkable. Many people throughout the world, right now, have never had that experience. In a close-knit community, there is very strong anthropological and medical reason to know how other people’s bowel movements are going. It speaks to the health of the group and the quality of the food on hand. If you’ve ever led an expedition off the beaten track, you know that one person who gets the runs must be treated more seriously than a discrete wound that might go septic. We, in the Cargo West, worry endlessly about personal dignity and security. Many people in other parts of the world, go off to do their business behind a tree, in the bushes, or in the village assigned place, not because of individual vulnerability—but out of social courtesy. Therein lies the difference.
Posted on: Sat, 24 Jan 2015 19:12:00 +0000
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