Okay—now TOTALLY wigged out. See,
there’s a hyena in the area that got a cow in a nearby village. Anyhow, we
could hear it last night—the dogs went crazy. We didn’t see it, but we did come
across its tracks this morning on the way to the funeral. I took a picture with
the camera, but you can’t really tell what you’re looking at.
Because of the hyena, or perhaps
because they were tired of listening to the doors creak when I ventured outside
to use the loo, they gave me a night container—fine, an old jug to pee in
during the night--but Aunt Mary is sharing a room with me and I just couldn’t
bring myself to use it!
I honestly did think about the
hyena tonight, but when a girl has got to go—she’s got to go! Now at a point of
desperation, I tiptoed out and opened the creaking doors as quietly as
possible. On the other hand, I admit that I walked to the outhouse as quickly
as possible and I may or may not have made a little more noise than necessary,
but I don’t think that really matters.
Well, I made it to the outhouse
and got down to business (outdoor pit-toilets give a whole other dimension to
that saying!). Unfortunately, I soon heard rustling outside; fortunately, I’d
already finished since otherwise I would have peed my pants.
I’ll admit that I stood
there—well squatted—heart thumpity-thumping. I decided to look out the
ventilation holes to see if I could see anything but then realized that my
pants were still down around my ankles—which wouldn’t work out so well if I
needed to run from a charging hyena. Then again, any scenario with a charging
hyena probably wouldn’t work out so well…no matter the state of a person’s
pants. Nonetheless, pants pulled up and tied tightly, I stood and peeked out.
Unfortunately, my head lamp
bounced off the bricks and I couldn’t see anything. I readjusted angles and
peered out again. I could dimly make out the outlines of the storage containers
and tree roots, but that was it. I eyed the door, flimsy lock and all, and
weighed my options. I seriously considered standing in the corner and waiting
until morning but the door probably wouldn’t hold up that well against, as I’ve
already said, a charging hyena. And, it would be embarrassing and cold!
It was quiet for a bit, but then
the rustling came back. This time it sounded like it was either above or below
me—which made me totally freak out for a whole other reason. I peered below,
but couldn’t see anything; Was it a bat? A bird? Images of a poo covered bird
zooming out of the hole crossed my mind as I once more eyed the door.
Leaving the bathroom it was!
 |
| Yes, this is a (dead) dung beetle; however, I prefer to call it by it's other name: Rhinoceros Beetle |
Yes, I opened the door louder
than necessary; and yes, I tromped on the ground louder than necessary; and
yes, l kept looking side to side more often than necessary; and yes, I’ll admit
it, I yanked that creaking door open far faster and louder than necessary.
Nonetheless, I think I was also incredibly brave.
It’s the night container for me—regardless of Aunt Mary’s presence.
From my journal entry: 08 June 2013 (which was written at 2 a.m. because I couldn't calm down enough to fall asleep)
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