Not Another Squatter

On Saturday, Jenika and I accompanied some school children on a picnic. We were away from 8 o’clock in the morning until midnight, which made it impossible for me to avoid using a public restroom. And what are public restrooms in India? Squatters, of course. So, when the urge hit, the only thing I could think was, “Here we go again.”

Jenika is the squatter pro, and she told me not to worry as she grabbed my hand and led me into the restroom. She even offered to give me a demonstration. “See?” she said. “It’s that simple.” Right.

So, with people knocking on the door wondering what the heck we could be doing in there, I took my turn. It all started off just fine. You see, the squatting itself is not a problem. I can do that much. So, I squatted and Jenika hovered over me, offering advice and encouragement (no, I’m not kidding). With her help, I managed to get it all out without getting any of it on my pants (my biggest fear as far as these squatters are concerned). So, with that, steps one and two were successful.

Step three is getting yourself clean, and I did not have as much luck this time. I could not figure out how to splash the water where it needed to be splashed without getting everything else soaked. “Just pour it down there,” Jenika said. “But there’s no room,” I responded, “and my legs are spread as far apart as they’ll go.” The knocking on the door continued, and I felt pressured to act quickly. So, deciding that any attempts at getting myself clean would be futile, I simply stood up, retied my pants, and walked out.

No more squatters, please.