It was usually kept under lock and key. It was strategically located asset at the far end of compound houses. After all the slurp and gulp, when digestive systems also complete their cycle; each member of the household visited the place.
It was mostly a square structure, with corrugated sheet roof, no ceiling. It usually had a wooden door and a small opening that served as a window. Climb two steps up the elevated “pulpit,” wherefrom you squat and aim for the holding area. A typical toilet/lavatory in Accra New Town back in the day.
Those were the compound house days when the spirit of neighborliness meant that we shared so much. From food, access to television, telephone lines, a same compound even kitchen in some places and of course, bathrooms and toilets.
Hard Job, Tough Guys
Emanating from nature’s own calculated sequence by name excretion, all except the medically unfit visit the place to release digestive residue deposited in the anal region of man, more specifically referred to as the rectum.
Question that crossed my/our minds most of the time, after we have deposited our unwanted lot and seen the container full, who comes to empty it and at what time. How much paaa would he be paid for that?
There were the night soil carriers (colloquially apologies, can I say SHIT carriers?) at least so we were told. And for long we continued to wonder why someone accept to carry the contents that almost a two scores of people “deleted” for want of a better word, over a period of time; into the container.
Where I grew up had an estimated 11 households, with an average population of five people in each, that comes up to about 55 different shades, weights, and components of the unwanted matter. Yet; that brave guy and his like elect to carry it and be paid for it.
It was a night operation. It had little accoutrements to execute but trust me, a very big heart. A short but hard edged broom, a pair of gloves, some foldable cloth to place on one’s head, surprisingly at the time, no nose mask. T’was that simple!
These guys (Krumanu, as they are referred to) carried the fecal matter to the nearest public toilet for primary deposition awaiting a further collection of deposited materials by waste trucks.
At Offloading Point
Information has it that these guys deposit through the manhole opening at the public toilets then get some water to wash off the walls of the container before returning the empty container for refilling.
And if for any reason you are not asleep during their operative hours and dare to pass a derogatory comment even insinuate that they have come along with some putridity, the vicious ones with hand you a raw deal.
Instances of such are, to dip their broom into the booty and sprinkle the contents on the ‘offender.’ Leaving contents behind is another option as is going to deposit and coming to pour watery remains at the offender. Smelly deal indeed.
An innovation that popped up back in the day was the fecal trucks that threatened the job of our good old krumanus, I was pleasantly surprised to see a mini waste truck going from house to house doing the job those brave individuals did.
Yes, it brought dignity to the job, but I learnt in places the truck is unable to access, good old krumanus are the “ish.” When the toilet is uncollected and is full, we trek to the public toilet to salute nature.
Years On
Roll forward the years and we virtually live with toilets in our respective rooms, the effect of a more “civilized” society that more than anything respects solitary living and with that respect for one’s privacy.
In today’s era of architectural awakening, rooms in houses have their own toilet and bathrooms. Hardly does even a parent share their moments of smelly privacy even with their kids, let alone visitors to their home.
Yet in most compound houses, the toilet’s close pal (bathroom) is gradually finding a place in the room. A personal toilet still remains an overly ambitious dream in the setting I grew up in. Maybe only after such houses are restructured.
If I have time, I will write another part of this piece, much shorter and share nostalgic experiences of why you should not shout at who is in there and how to identify whether it’s an elderly person or not. The ideal time to visit and of course the sweaty jogging sessions as you awaited your turn on a high turnout morning.
Hmmmmmmmm!
10th Rajab 1436 = 29th April, 2015 (Wednesday)
--
ABDUR RAHMAN ALFA SHABAN
No comments:
Post a Comment