My Shitty

As hundreds of millions of children across the world head back to school this fall and you prepare your back-to-school stories, something critical will be missing for more than half of those children. It’s not
teachers or text books or even desks; it’s toilets.

Each year, 272 million school days are lost to absenteeism caused by diarrhea; in some areas, over forty percent of diarrhea cases result from transmission in schools, rather than homes. Over half the world’s schools lack toilets and a place for children to wash their hands, and fifty percent lack safe drinking water. It doesn’t matter how good the education is if children are forced to miss school.

That’s why this October, a coalition of nearly thirty organizations, including UNICEF, will organize a series of events in Washington DC to demand that the US Government, the World Bank, and others involved in the education of children across the globe, no longer forget the crucial fourth R: the Restroom. No future school should ever be built without safe water, sanitation and hygiene (WASH) facilities, nor should any student be resigned to the disease and indignity of a school without a restroom. That fourth R makes a monumental difference to education:

• In one school in Ghana, Mohammed Yahaya, a teacher, proclaimed, “I’ve been teaching here for eight years. Before the borehole well we had 46 students now we have close to 400 students!”
• In Bangladesh and Tanzania, studies show school attendance increases fifteen and twelve percent respectively, when water is available within a fifteen-minute walk compared to one hour or more.
• In Alwar District, India, the school sanitation program increased girls’ enrollment by one third, leading to a twenty-five percent improvement in academic performance for both boys and girls.

The impact is lifelong and also affects the generation that follows. Women who have been to school are less likely to die during childbirth, and each additional year of education is estimated to prevent two maternal deaths for every one thousand women.

We invite you to begin your back-to-school reporting in advance of the October events. We can help you identify programs that are tackling this issue and improving lives. We can direct you to WASH and education experts to interview about this issue. We can connect you to US organizations, teachers and students that are directly involved with solving this problem through service learning programs (US schools matched to developing country schools). The coalition has a global network of on-the-ground partners that will help you meet the students, teachers and parents affected by this issue so you can hear their stories directly. For more information, feel free to download this pdf from Unicef – Raising Clean Hands.

Poop Report

It was a rainy and very cold February thirteenth. I was about eleven, I think and I had been feeling very shitty all day at school. I endured my stomach aching and that horrible mouth watering and repeatedly swallowing thing you do when you think you’re going to puke, just counting down until I could get home and beg Mom to cure me. I got home and threw up a few times and then took a nap, and later I woke up feeling a lot better.

Since it was the day before Valentine’s day, my younger sister was begging Mom to take her to Wal Mart so she could find something for her so-called boyfriend. She had a puppy love thing going on, elementary school-style. Since I was feeling much better, I decided to tag along. On the car ride there I started to feel sick again, but since we were already halfway into the thirty minute trip to Wal Mart, there was no turning back. By the time arrived I was feeling very iffy about going in, but I decided to try anyway so I could remain in the vicinity of the bathroom, just in case something happened.

Sure enough, while following my sister around and reminding her of her budget (what Mom said she could spend), my mouth started watering and my stomach started clenching. I sprinted for the bathrooms to hurl. This Wal mart was not a supercenter and only had small bathrooms with no stalls, just one shitter and a locking door. As I raced around the corner of the layaway counter I was devastated to see a five person line to the Women’s room, but shamefully relieved that no one was in line for the Men’s. I raced in, quickly locked the door, and braced myself over the toilet preparing to puke. It was some really harsh puking – the kind where it feels like you use all your muscles just to eject something from your mouth. I was previously unaware that I would have diarrhea coming on also, so as I was forcefully puking I was also forcefully shitting. The strain of puking so hard only caused me to shit harder. I could not stop mid-puke, either, so the more I puked the more I shat.

Finally, I was done. I had not had time to pull my pants down to salvage my clothes, so there I stood with so much watery shit in my pants that it was starting to tint my socks light brown. I could have shit through a damn screen door. Then came the task of trying to clean up. My underwear and pants and everything was so soaked in diarrhea that I got shit all over my legs and ankles just trying to get my clothes off. The clothes were in no way salvageable, so I chucked them in the trash and made an attempt to use cheap toilet paper to clean my ass and legs.

It was then that I heard someone knocking on the door. A man’s voice said, “Is someone in there?” I really began to panic, because I was standing bare-assed in the Men’s room. Where was my mom? How long would it take her to find me? What if she didn’t have enough money left to get me some pants? I did not respond to the man for fear I might have to tell a stranger what happened to me. I waited and waited, praying Mom would look for me soon.

Twenty minutes and another puking episode in the hell chamber later, I finally heard my mother say, “It’s me. Let me in.” I refused to let her in, and instead informed her that she would have to go buy me some new pants before I would even think about leaving. Then she confirmed my fear, that she had already checked out with my sister and only had a couple of bucks left. I heard her talking to another woman on the other side of the door and realized that some of the women in the line had heard me and somehow located her. One of the women actually offered to buy me something to wear.

I was so humiliated; I felt like someone had pretty much announced to the entire Wal Mart that a poor kid who had shit herself needed some pants. Five minutes later I heard my mom thanking the mystery woman who charitably helped her and me, and I allowed her to stick her hand in the door to give them to me. It was the most horrible shitting episode I’ve ever had, and it just had to happen at the fucking Wal Mart, because I’m not lucky enough to be able spew liquid from both ends in the privacy of my own home. Since then I have never gone into public with diarrhea again for fear that it could happen again.

Poop Report

Besides a satisfactory shit, what would be more appealing to my fellow poopers than a well designed poo- themed pinball machine to bump around? Instead of being a selfish shitter, I’d like this thread to be a community effort, one that all of us can have fun with. I will start.

The theme is obvious. Since Dave is the captain of this ship, his mug and dress would be featured on the backboard as part of a sinking ship theme. The backboard could include an animated sub-board, where the ball’s play affects what interactive scenes will play out.

(Example: When a player reaches 20,000,000 points, the animation will show a desperate, log-jammed Dave on the verge of exploding a levee-breaking diarrhea flood. His expression will become increasingly worrisome as he repeats over and over, “IT’S COMING DOWN!” While the scene is playing out, two other play balls (brown) will emerge from a rubber butt cheek on the playboard, and the player will have the opportunity to earn bonus scoring points.)

A feature on the playboard could include a shack-like outhouse with a colon designed ramp for the player to shoot the balls into the shack.

Now, if a player can lock all three balls in outhouse, it will trigger the animated diarrhea flood.

1. Locked ball number one will cause the outhouse to tremor, and animated Dave will warn in a raspy whisper “anytime now”. (It would be cool to get Tom Waits to be voice of Dave.)


2. Locked ball number two will make the shack shake, with the animated Dave saying, “YOU CANNOT STOP ME!”


3. Locked ball number three will trigger the explosion on the animated screen, and Dave will expunge a shit flood.

The shit flood will momentarily stop play, and the animation will play out. My idea of the animation sequence would feature Dave (or Tom, or Sara Palin) caught in the sludge flood desperately seeking help. All of the sudden, an advertisement plays out. One advertisement idea is Sasha Grey, dressed in pretty brown lace, standing next to a bidet, saying the following:

“After a brown tsunami, imagine the wonderful freshness and comfort of a water spout rushing up your anus. In, fact, you don’t need to shit in order to enjoy this spout. After anal sex, I urge my sixteen partners to join me in a spout fest. Life is for living. Spouting is the future.”

So without further adoodie, wipe away what you just read and help us create the ultimate work of art: The Captain’s Log pinball machine.

Poop Report

Last year I was fourteen, my family and I took a trip to England. The trip was good but the return flight got delayed, causing us to eat a lot of English airport food that didn’t go down well with my stomach. As soon as we started to board the plane I got the rumbles and terrible pain. I was so shameful back then, too, so much so that I wanted to wait the hours until we got to the hotel back in the states to poop. But as we started taking off, I began to realize that wouldn’t happen. As much as I tried to convince myself that I wouldn’t, I knew I would eventually be using the plane bathroom.

About an hour into the flight I felt like I was going to explode, and I was in terrible pain. After another twenty minutes, my whole family was asleep; I knew this was my chance. I secretly waddled to the only bathroom on the second floor – we were on one of those 747 double-decker planes and our seats were on the top. I was surprised to find a Men’s and a Women’s lavatory. The Men’s was occupied, and my heart sank. I knocked on the door and the occupant said he was going to be a while, because he didn’t feel well. I wasn’t allowed downstairs to visit another Men’s room, so I jumped into the Women’s lavatory and locked it.

I couldn’t believe what I found. The toilet was just a hole a little bigger than a baseball. I wish I knew how I could describe it better. I later found out it was to prevent people from throwing garbage in the toilet, but the Men’s lavatory had a normal-sized toilet for some reason. I was dying to go so I just sat. It felt like sitting on a chair. I stopped clenching and let go with some major diarrhea. After the first five seconds of lava I had another problem – because the hole was so incredibly small I didn’t know how I was supposed to pee! I had to re-clench my bunghole, turn around, and try my best to aim. After I peed I turned around and sat again for some more hot pudding. I was in the Women’s room for a total of fifteen minutes and felt so much better by the time I was finished. My mom got up later to go to the bathroom, and when she returned she told us, “You’d never believe what the toilet looks like.” I did know, and I never wanted to experience it again. I had diarrhea once more on that flight, but I was able to use the Men’s lavatory, luckily. With a normal-sized hole.

Poop Report

Saturday I woke up feeling strange. I wasn’t really sure what was up with it, but I soon found out that other than a clear lack of energy – I was feeling sleepy and tired, and overall couldn’t eat very well – I had some unusual bowel movements. Yes, I had a somewhat sudden diarrhea. Luckily for me, I soon found out that after spending some time in the toilet, my tired feeling flushed away. I finished pooping and was back on my feet, or at least, I was mostly well for someone who was shitting brown water.

I blamed the strange feeling on some minor food poisoning, as it seemed to make sense; once I got rid of what ailed me, I was feeling better quickly, so I just continued on my day. I postponed some plans of going to the movies and watched out for greasy food and such. I even managed to go out to eat with my brother and sister-in-law, even though I puked most of the food back up. A few trips to the bathroom later, the day ended and I went to bed.

The next day I woke up feeling somewhat well and was pleased to see I now had more of an appetite. Still, the diarrhea went on, so I continued to get a lot of liquid. Other than the fact that I wasn’t really hungry at lunch, I was okay for the afternoon, so I remade the movie plans.

Around four in the afternoon, I went to the bathroom one last time, just to make sure there wouldn’t be any incidents while I was out; then I left.

I stopped by a friend’s workplace and then headed up to the mall where I met up with G. and P. We had plans of watching six o’clock showing of The Last Exorcism, and since I was feeling okay, I figured there would be no problems.

During the movie about a child’s demonic possession I noticed I had my own possession to
take care of. I could feel something bubbling with in bowels, and it didn’t feel good. I didn’t want to leave the theater, so I endured. Eventually, it calmed up, but moments later would start again. Somehow, I managed to get to the end of the movie without anything happening, but as soon as it ended, I turned to G.

“I gotta’ go to the bathroom,” I said in a desperate tone. “Now.” He didn’t seem to comprehend the urgency of the matter, and while he knew of my actual condition, he didn’t seem to realize the plans I
had for bathroom use. We found out the mall only had one bathroom (the place IS small, but not small enough for only one), and the theater wouldn’t let us use theirs since the movie was over. We decided to try for the bathroom from the nearby McDonald’s.

We were heading outside when a doubt emerged in my head: did that McDonald’s have a toilet
or only urinals? Sure, it’s a dumb question, but at the time I didn’t seem to be thinking completely straight, and besides, it’s a small bathroom. I had to ask G. and P., which led them to ask me if I was afraid or disgusted of urinals.

“Erm… no. I need to use a toilet.” They stared at me confusedly. “Remember I mentioned I wasn’t feeling well yesterday? It’s about that.” Disgusted, the both complained that I was giving way too much information. I shrugged and we headed outside.

G. also had to use the bathroom, but he and P. stayed behind, outside, and I went in, with a churning monster inside me. I quickly passed the hall and tables, taking a right into the bathroom. I immediately noticed the toilet stall. There was one guy getting out of it, and I excused myself as I passed him and entered it, victoriously.

Hygiene came before urgency, and I managed to put toilet paper on the seat before sitting down. I heard the guy leave and started to relieve myself. Much to my surprise, there was no diarrhea. Rather, there was a lot of gas. The kind of fast, snappy machine-gun farting, which luckily didn’t seem to smell much. Apparently whatever was in my bowels was actually boiling as I felt it was, because I
farted and farted and farted, as well as emptied my bladder.

The farts were dying down but there was still pressure. I could hear people come in and out. Strangely, they didn’t staay. Some only washed their hands, while some didn’t seem to do anything. I didn’t really pay attention to it, but still avoided farting when people came in. I could hear them shuffling in and out, their steps, the sound of the water and paper towels being pulled.

I still farting when someone walked in. I held the fart, and heard as the person turned on the faucet and washed his hands.A fart – short, but loud enough to be heard outside the single stall – escaped. Immediately, the shuffling outside the stall became fast, clearly desperate, as the person dried his hands and left in a hurry. I held back laughter. I had effectively caused someone to evacuate the place.

After a while I heard G’s voice coming from outside. He was apparently talking to P.

“We’ll go in one at a time, okay?” he said. I found it weird, but didn’t give it much of a thought. The farts were ending, and I was about to leave when I hear someone come in.

“G.?” I ask out loud. Not only there was no answer, but there was an awkward silence. It was someone else. Oops.

Finally the door opened again and G. came in and announced, “I’m gonna be so angry if you leave any traces there.” I told him not to worry and finished up. There a few desperate seconds when I almost clogged the toilet with TP, but it did manage to flush. Phew.

While I was fumbling to put on my pants properly (I hate button-fly crotches on jeans…), he mentioned how the urinals were broken or something similar. That did explain a lot. I opened the door and found G. waiting and a small guy washing his hands. I wondered if he was the one I had addressed at G. earlier.

As I waited for the little guy to finish washing his hands so I could clean up, I noticed the urinals were actually unusable. There was a blue plastic covering them up.

I waited for G. to finish peeing, and at first, against his protests, I told him about the fart-evacuation. He doubled over laughing as we left and meet P., who wasn’t as interested in the story. Only disgusted. I then mentioned how I had heard G’s voice from inside.

P. jokingly asked, “Did you call out for him?”

“Yeah,” I simply answered, “did you hear me?” Both stared at me.

“Erm, no.”

Yep, I was right about the awkward silence. Oops.

Poop Report