it’s a dirty job June 11, 2008

In my previous life, I was able to engage in conversation on a wide range of topics.  Politics, economics, literature, religion, celebrity gossip – I was well versed enough to conquer any D.C. dinner party (or, rather, not to seem like a complete idiot).  Well, 8 months spent largely in the company of toddlers has reduced my repertoire to the point that my parents may begin to wonder if they have anything to show for that large college bill.  In fact, my base of knowledge now centers almost completely on one topic – poop.

 

That’s right, I said it – poop.  It’s nasty and it’s smelly, and it has become my life.  With 25+ children still in diapers, poop is a dependable presence in my day.  Those darling little orphans get it all over the place.  It runs down their legs, right onto my shirt.  I consider it a tangible reminder of their affection for me.  I’ve gotten to the point that a wet spot no longer bothers me.  After all, that’s gonna dry – it takes a good, stinky smudge to persuade me to change clothes.  I barely remember the girl who wore neatly pressed blouses and heels.

 

Then there’s the regular updates on who’s pooping too much or not at all.  A little laxative here, a little pepto there.  The staff often greet me in the morning with reports of which child has diarrhea that day.  Fantastic.  I carry ORS (oral rehydration solution) packets practically everywhere I go.  It’s not glamorous, but diarrhea kills way more children than AIDS or malaria each year.  We have to stay on top of it here.

 

Currently, a sort-of poop disaster is reducing operations at the children’s home to almost unbearable levels.  Our septic tank and pretty much our entire septic field are finished.  Full up, completely saturated.  Unfortunately, due to the poor construction of the field and the lack of septic companies in Southern Zambia, there is no way to fix them.  So, we are digging a new tank/field, by hand.  As a sort of stop-gap, we restricted bathroom access and went down to only 2 toilets.  I had hoped that would tide us over.  However, on Friday evening, I arrived at the children’s home to find poop literally shooting out of one of the pipes in front.  Damn.  You know who has to deal with that?  Me, that’s who.  Rolling up my sleeves, I set about disinfecting the areas in which the children are prone to play.  We now have 0 working toilets, 50 children and 38 staff, and at least 2 more weeks until completion of the septic project.  I won’t go into details, but let’s say that my solution involves little more than glorified buckets.

 

Are you surprised that I was able to fill an entire entry on the topic of poop?  My friends, I have barely scratched the surface.  Oh, the stories I could tell…. Poop.  It’s kind of my life now.