Shit (622 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.53 on 17 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by BillyGoat (View user info) at 2009-07-07 08:42:11 EDT
The driver swerved to avoid a pothole and promptly encountered another which was deep enough to send a shudder through the minibus. Of the 18 passengers in the tiny Toyota Hiace, I must have felt the shock the most as none of the other passengers flinched when it came. A series of waves travelled first to my lower abdomen and then down to my sphincter, loosening it on impact, before disappearing somewhere around my thighs. A little fart seeped out and my bowels quietened, for the first time in 30 minutes. I held firm and dared not move though I was certain that the smell would go undetected as every window in the kombi was open. The lady next to me coughed and seemed to screw her face up though it was hard to tell as I was going by the movement of her cheek. The jump had dislodged her from her seat and showing no sense of self awareness; she shifted back abruptly and wedged me in with her plump hips.
Outside, the sun had already set and the sky looked darker through the tinted windows. A pair of men were descending from a pylon situated a few metres from the edge of the road. In the distance the first flickerings of light could be seen from what looked like rabbit hutches but where in fact the beginnings of the township. The other side of the township remained in darkness. Though the 'news' often reported people's outrage towards the government's scheme of load shedding, it invariably blamed the majority of the power cuts on these very people citing that, they were responsible for the stolen power lines. I looked again at the men, trying to discern who they were, but the darkness made them near invisible.
We crossed the bridge and began our climb towards the town. In my hands was a wad of cash which i examined under the dim light. After some time, I asked the conductor how much it was worth, as I had never encountered it before. He didn't reply so I asked again sensing that I hadn't been heard over the incessant kwaito , but this time audible tuts and groans led by the lady indicated that my question had been heard but had not merited an answer. A stony glare followed. '3 trillion,' the conductor barked. I must have held my surprised look a bit too long because he then instructed the driver to turn the music down. 'Haven't you been in a kombi before?' He started, leaning in to take a closer look at my face as if it would suddenly unravel my travel secrets. I had, many times in fact, just like everyone else, ever since the government subsidised bus service folded nearly 18 years ago to be replaced by money hungry companies like his. But I thought such an explanation would smack of smart-arsery and would be a godsend to the sweaty conductor. Because, if there is one thing conductors love to do: it's to put people in their place. Moreover the explanation wouldn't explain my ignorance of the currency.
'Well?' He continued. I was feeling the heat and for once I sought refuge behind the woman's big shoulder which obscured at least half of my face. He tutted and returned to his seat but the woman started almost immediately, asking me where i was from and after scanning my clothes, including the earrings which i now regretted wearing, she asked what I was doing in a kombi. I didn't reply. Wasn't it obvious that I was using it to go somewhere? She raised her eyebrows and chewed her teeth loudly to announce her disapproval. Everyone relaxed back into their seats (for they had stopped whatever they were doing to watch this spectacle) and the driver turned the music up. It had taken just a few minutes for 17 random people to pass judgement and they'd made it clear what they thought. I put my head out the window and was glad to see my stop was nearing.
We reached the row of tyres adjacent to a bar which was surrounded by a broken brick-wall. A few hundred metres away was the official bus stop which stood proudly as if to proclaim an imminent return of the bus service. I disembarked, with great difficulty, always remembering to apologise when I trod on someone. Not that they cared: even before the kombi had driven off, the discussion had already begun. 'These kids: A few years in the diaspora and they think...' cried a voice. '...Yes. And did you see his earrings..,' someone chortled to the tune of the revving engine. Laughter followed as the driver shifted into second gear. I blocked it out and watched the back bumper scrape the chewed up tarmac.
I made for the bar, using a low powered floodlight as a guide. Groups of men, each holding a litre carton of chibuku crowded around a game of draughts on one of the steel tables. Someone would pass a comment now and again but everyone was generally quiet until the squeaky gate announced my arrival. I could hear the men enquiring under their breaths as to who I was and one of them began advancing in my direction. I dared not look and I moved quickly across the courtyard aiming to get to one of the rooms, which I hoped was the toilet, in time to lock myself in.
I got to the doorway but my assailant had caught up before I could even open the door which was locked anyway. He gripped my shoulder and I took a deep breath. I turned round and to my surprise he was a boy of about 18.
He grabbed my hand and led me to the other side of the building. He was barefooted and had ripped clothes. His skin, even in the dim light, was powdery black like it had been plastered on and his swaying dreadlocks smelt of alcohol. We got to an opening and he let go.
'In there,' he said, wondering as I entered, whether it was the mincey walk that had suggested to him that I was in need of the toilet. The smell of urine rose sharply to my nose and I could taste it in my mouth as I tiptoed across the slippery floor. I was about to shoulder the door open when he came rushing in to open it.
'Thank you,' I said. I had been here for 5 days and all people had shown was veiled disgust even though I looked and spoke like them. Now this boy was here, anxious to help, but for what reason.
I had no time for evaluations though, because my bowels were rumbling again. 'Anything else, I can do for you, baas?' 'No, thank you,' I replied closing the door. I had to hold it shut as i crouched over the toilet seat. I unloaded into a waterless chamber and was delighted to have some ventilation seep through a perforated brick which was embossed with the now defunct Salisbury City Council logo. I looked again at the pisstained floor with its random clumps of faeces-were people had decided to shit because presumably the chamber was not good enough. Opposite, just below my hand, was a smeared sketch of our president complete with his famous Hitler moustache and beneath that were the words 'fuck Bob' in someone else's finger painting. The painting was an accurate portrayal in more ways than even the 'artists' ever imagined: Even in its Salisbury days, I doubt that the racist regime that once ran this country, would have allowed for things to get like this.
To make things worse, in my rush to empty my bowels, I had forgotten to check the toilet for paper. The few bits of newsprint that were lying around had all been used and the only available toilet roll was encased in a wire mesh, with barbs around to act as a deterrent to any would be thieves. But, the crusted blood and loose screws indicated that some individuals had already tried to remove the mesh. I slotted my hand through the only opening, I could find and attempted to unroll the tissue paper. It flaked off each time so that after about five minutes, I had what looked like bird feathers in my hand.
Already I had been crouching for 10 minutes and I was aware that exposing my arse in such a dirty place for so long was a good way to get sick. As each minute passed, I found it increasingly difficult not to think of the recent cholera outbreak that had killed nearly 3000 people if 'official' figures were to be believed.
I was now prepared to go out with a caked arse until I remembered the bundle of notes in my pocket. Quick calculation told me that 3 million equated to 60 notes. I fished one of them out and rubbed the thin paper between my fingers. I hesitated a little: In some countries, defacing money was a punishable offence. But in those countries, the words 'legal tender,' actually meant something. Commonsense prevailed and the decision was made.
10 notes later, I was done. I turned to flush but the handle was broken. I let go of the door and it swung open to reveal the boy who stood waiting. He held a fresh roll of tissue in one hand and his other hand was outstretched. 'You forgot to pay.' 'Pay?' 'Yes, sir I'm the toilet attendant.' He said confidently. I looked in amazement and thought back to what I had just seen in the toilet. This dirty motherfucker wasn't serious. Every minute I spent in that Petri dish of a toilet, I had risked my life and now he had the nerve to ask me to pay. 'Where I come from, son (and yes I come from this country too), they have health and safety which is there to keep the likes of me safe and the likes of you employed. And workers actually value their job. if you really were serious about your job , then you'd have bought a descent outfit, washed a bit and invested in a mop, rather than pissing your money away with all the other township layerabouts,' I wanted to say. I was furious and I nearly shoved him out of my way. But then I realised that I did not know him or his circumstances and in that way my behaviour would be no better than the people in the kombi.
In any case, he had probably seen an opportunity when I walked in and used his initiative in order to cash in which wasn't such a bad idea in these harsh economic times.I handed him a USD note -now official currency - and seeped into the darkness. As I left, I heard him enter the cubicle. I doubt he even blinked when he saw 500 billion dollars worth of banknotes, smeared in shit.
Because they were as useless to him as they were to me.
User Reviews
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2009-07-10 00:12:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
zimbobalious
Submitted by cheerios (user info) at 2009-07-09 14:52:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by RoadSong (user info) at 2009-07-09 05:17:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"Outside, the sun had already set and the sky looked darker through the tinted windows. A pair of men were descending from a pylon situated a few metres from the edge of the road. In the distance the first flickerings of light could be seen from what looked like rabbit hutches but where in fact the beginnings of the township."
Submitted by darthvaderswang (user info) at 2009-07-09 04:43:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2009-07-07 18:10:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
The currency referred to is the Zimbabwean dollar and the highest denomination is 5Obillion ZWD.
The USD was recently approved as official currency alongside the ZWD meaning that fares can now be paid in either currency. Each journey costs O.50 USD/ 3 trillion ZWD.
Submitted by YourNameHere (user info) at 2009-07-07 17:59:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by sage104 (user info) at 2009-07-07 13:21:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Read this earlier. It was a bit strange but good.
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2009-07-07 13:04:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I --
what?
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2009-07-07 12:14:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by sir_cowman (user info) at 2009-07-07 14:31:59 BST (#)
Ranking: 1
This was good, but for the first time i can uncerstand what people mean when they say that awkward wording and typos take away from the story.
----
I totally unDerstand.
Submitted by Ducky (user info) at 2009-07-07 11:36:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Made me scrunch up my face (+1)
Submitted by sexualchocolate1984 (user info) at 2009-07-07 11:18:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
It's funny because it's soon to be true.
Submitted by firefly (user info) at 2009-07-07 09:36:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by sir_cowman (user info) at 2009-07-07 09:31:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
This was good, but for the first time i can uncerstand what people mean when they say that awkward wording and typos take away from the story.
Submitted by SgtHartman (user info) at 2009-07-07 09:16:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
If F.J. is a fan, Im sure that I would be too.
Except im not a fan of the cock.
Except mine of course...
Submitted by F.J.Bell (user info) at 2009-07-07 09:06:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very convincing. Could've down without the farting in the first paragraph though.
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2009-07-07 08:44:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
*didn't*
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2009-07-07 08:43:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
ok...erm, did expect it to be that long. but should be worth it, i think.