There are two kinds of toilets in India: the squat and the “Western.” The former is, apparently, the bane of Western tourists everywhere. A quick internet search brings up numerous web sites warning the reader of the horrors of the squat toilet. Oh, no – you have to squat to relieve yourself! Avoid this if you have to, even if it means holding it in till you get to a “normal” toilet! (This is actual advice I’ve read.)
To add insult to injury, toilet paper might not be available. Imagine having to clean yourself with water and your hand! The same websites recommend bringing toilet paper with you, just in case.
I know I’m poking fun at something a lot of people are uncomfortable with: the bodily functions that have to do with evacuation. It’s easy for us to ignore what happens in the bathroom, since it’s merely a matter of using a handful of toilet paper, then closing the lid and flushing it all away. We don’t really have to see what’s happening, much less think about it.
For much of the world, however, this isn’t the case. Plumbing can be poor to nonexistent, and so people often have to face the problem of where to do their business and what to do with it afterward. In India, people in the villages without indoor plumbing will go out to the fields to relieve themselves, whereas in urban slums, some people shit in plastic bags, tie a knot, and toss them into the street. Suffice to say, it’s not very sanitary.
Where there are toilets available in India, particularly in public areas, the squat toilet is the most common. It was developed because squatting is the most natural way for humans to evacuate the bowels. (The Western toilet actually requires more strain on the body and can increase the occurrence of hemorrhoids and constipation.) Granted, the public toilets here, no matter what type of toilet, are pretty gross. Often, there will be urine on the floor or on the toilet seat if there is one. A flushable toilet is fairly rare; usually, the handle is broken, and so the bowl is filled with whatever the previous users have left behind. The smell isn’t so pleasant either. I suppose it doesn’t bother most people here, as filthy public toilets seem to be the norm. When I’m using a public toilet, I tend to do the following: roll up my pant legs so as not to get them soaked in urine or whatever fluids might be on the floor, cover my nose which helps with the odor, and carry hand sanitizer which is useful even if there is water and soap available for hand washing (which is not always the case, if the faucet happens to be broken or there just isn’t any soap).
Sometimes when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go – and it’s simply silly to be picky about the kind of toilet you’re going to use. On my last trip, I used a squat toilet while on a moving train, where the bottom was open to the tracks below. It smelled, and the train car vibrated as it made its way toward its destination. I looked at the whole experience as an adventure, even as I hoped the door would stay locked and I held onto the wall of the bathroom with my fingertips. What was I going to do, wait several more hours for a Western toilet with toilet paper at our still far-off hotel?
Indian bathrooms also include a spigot (or, in some cases, a bucket of water) and a cup (usually a plastic one with a handle, though sometimes it’s also just an old, re-used oil container). This is for washing up afterward. In fancier bathrooms which have Western toilets, like the ones in hotels, there is a geyser option, which is either a hose attached beside the toilet or a spigot built into the toilet itself, at the back of the toilet seat. Again, for those of us in the West, the idea of washing yourself after a bowel movement with some water and your hand is pretty unappealing. After having been here for seven weeks, I’ve actually gotten used to it (provided there is a geyser and typically not in a public bathroom setting).
First of all, toilet paper isn’t so good for Indian sewer systems, which weren’t developed to handle the amount of tissue that Westerners use. (The average American uses fifty-seven sheets of toilet paper a day.) Secondly, toilet paper isn’t necessarily good for our bottoms. Not surprisingly, washing with water actually gets one cleaner than by simply wiping with paper. A study in 1964 examined the underwear of 940 men in Oxfordshire, England, and found fecal contamination in nearly all of them, from “wasp-colored” stains to “frank massive feces.” Gross, right? But do you really expect dry paper to properly clean your bum?
I’ve been reading Rose George’s The Big Necessity: Adventures in the World of Human Waste (from which I got the above statistic about toilet paper as well as the study). This book explores everything from attitudes toward human waste to movements towards improved sanitation in impoverished countries to high-tech toilets. (Danny thought it was an appropriate progression from books about food.) It’s a fascinating read that’s sometimes funny, sometimes depressing, and all-around informative. And it’s helped me to realize that washing instead of wiping isn’t such a bad idea after all. After all, I’m going to wash my hands afterward anyway. (This is not necessarily the case with the rest of India and has resulted in movements toward encouraging better hand washing habits to prevent stomach ailments, colds, and other infectious diseases.) The one thing I’ve really had to get used to is being a little wet after using the toilet. But, as with many things in India, you get used to things after a while, even if they’re slightly inconvenient.
Sure, poop is gross and stinky, and it ought to be confined to a toilet with decent plumbing. But I actually have no problem dealing with it “Indian-style.” Which means any toilet tissue I do purchase is used toward a runny nose.
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