“The cute little African bush baby looked at me and smiled with so much joy in his face it almost brought me to tears. Little did this poor bush baby know he wasn’t going to be smiling much longer…”
Blame it On The Children Something is wrong with me. Deep down in the depths of my bowels there lie evil demons that breathe death, fire, and ill-will into the noses of all those who come too close. These demons are created by the foods I eat and the terrible things I’ve done in my life. And trust me, these demons are mean.
While I was volunteering in Tanzania I went to a handful of volunteer placements to see where I would be the most effective. I had been to two schools and two orphanages when my roommate recommended that I come check out her placement, The Plaster House.
The Plaster house was an incredible place that took injured and disabled children out of the bush and gave them corrective surgeries for their disabilities. The most common disability was club foot, but amongst others were cleft lip, fluorosis, burns, tumors, paralysis, autism, retardation, and other deformities that would have out casted them from African society, and guaranteed them a miserable life, and an early death.. At first glance it was both really depressing and really inspiring. Depressing because these poor kids had terrible disabilities at such young ages, and inspiring because these poor kids get a free surgery, education, and love from great people. I was leaning towards inspired.
I was a bit nervous before I walked into the building because my roommate warned me of the terrible sight, smells, and sounds of these children. I didn’t know how I’d react when face to face with kids with terrible deformities or diseases. I had hoped that I would be just as smiling and loving as usual, but I was worried about vomiting on them, and breaking into uncontrollable tears. Plus I was wearing my best shirt, (one of three I brought to Africa) and I didn’t want anyone’s vomit or shit on it, including my own.
I had one last ailment that made my time in the plaster house a little more stressful that it had to be…..
The night prior I got barely any sleep because of terrible indigestion. The war that raged in my digestive system was so hateful I was left sweating, tossing, turning, and yelling obscenities that could only come from someone going through an exorcism. While I was not able to get the demons out, I was able to consolidate the demons in one place, my colon. With the demons so close to the back door, my greatest fear was that my body would expel the demons while reading a lovely story to a bunch of disabled kids.
Once inside The Plaster House the smell of disinfectant, piss, and shit filled my lungs like hospital potpourri. It reminded of a cross between my patrol base in Afghanistan, minus the disinfectant, and a farm, minus the disinfectant.
My roommate showed me each of the rooms that the children stayed in. It looked like military barracks, except there were no bunk beds. They were all single bunks right next to each other. Each room had a nurse who was helping the kids either change their clothes or redress their bandages.
After she showed me each of the barracks rooms we went to the main classroom and playroom where the majority of the children were. There were lots of kids playing with Legos on the floor, there were three tables full of kids coloring and drawing, there were some kids reading, and others playing with teddy bears and toy cars.
I sprinted to the Legos and plopped myself down in the middle of a big group of 4 year olds. Immediately I was swarmed by kids who wanted to jump on me, show me their creations, and rub their filthy hands in my face. Some of the kids had big welts, blisters, and sores on their faces and heads. It made me a little uneasy, especially with the whole Ebola thing going around, but I couldn’t allow myself to shy away from these poor bastards when they just wanted some affection. So I just accepted the fact that I was going to get AIDS and Ebola, and let the kids play all over me.
I had to close my eyes and wince on a few occasions when the kids who had the worst burns or sores were jumping on me, especially because some of those kids smelled the most like human shit.
Just as the group of kids playing with me was at its peak, the demons started knocking on the back door. I said “Sorry assholes, you gotta wait” and they said “FUCK YOU.” Regrettably, one of them silently snuck out the door.
As the demon crept through the group of disabled children who were sitting on the floor building legos, it picked them off one by one. Each child, upon smelling the demon, changed his behavior in a unique manner.
One child began sneezing.
Another child began coughing violently.
Another child began crying.
Another child got angry and threw his lego creation into the ground and smashed it pieces. He continued smashing legos in a rage.
Another child began acting erratically, jumping, rolling, and moving at twice his normal speed.
A bunch of children pinched their noses to avoid the smell.
My personal favorite, was the child that had a case of ADHD that rivaled mine. He stopped trying to climb on me, jumped down into my lap, then off my lap onto the floor, put his hand over his nose, and looked at me with wide and angry eyes as if to say “I know you just shat your pants. Go clean your fucking diaper and then come back and play.” He never said a word, but I knew…
My roommate was 15 feet away, she walked over casually and whispered in my ear “Did you just shit your pants?”
“NO, I’d admit it if I did… But look around, there’s probably 20 kids who shat their pants today so Im sure we’ll find out.”
She looked at me suspiciously as she walked away.
Once the demon passed, all the children went back to behaving normally, and came back to climb all over me.
A few minutes later another demon escaped, and the children reacted in the exact same way. Every one of them, including the one who gave me the look.
He gave me the exact same look again. This time he added a side to side head shake.
I played dumb and smiled, then grabbed some toys and help them up in front of his face, hoping that my silliness and charm would distract him from the shit smell. He shook his head again, he was not amused.
I blew him off and said “Whatever nerd” and continued playing with another child.
A few minutes later, a demon escaped again. All the children reacted the same way, except for the one with the look, he said “Fuck this shit, im out” and threw his legos down as he walked to go color.
The rest of the children looked at me as if they all know I was the culprit. Again, I played dumb and smiled innocently.
I was quickly sick of their accusatory looks, so I got up to go color. None of the children looked disappointed that I was leaving.
I was slightly intimidated by the boy who called me out earlier, so I avoided his coloring table.
At another coloring table I saw a shy boy who wasn’t coloring. In fact he wasn’t doing anything at all He was just blankly staring at the table with his face resting on his hands.
I decided to try and cheer him up. I drew a few silly items on a paper and held them up for him to see. Then I colored them in front of him, and made it seem like the most fun I’d ever had.. I made goofy faces, silly sounds, and finally he warmed up to me. A few minutes later, he was laughing hysterically and hanging all over me. It was exactly what I hoped for, I wanted to make him feel special and loved, and give him the affection that he has probably never had, but always wanted.
And then I shat my pants.
I didn’t even see it coming, but another fucking demon got out, and this one was a real asshole.
The boy didn’t seem to notice, he continued laughing and rubbing his Ebola all over me as he tried to climb up to my head. The girls on the other side of the table DID notice. They were too shy to blatantly accuse me, but I could tell I was their prime suspect.
I continued playing with the boy for another 5 minutes, when I felt a demon knocking. I tried to keep him in, but he broke the door down and rushed out. This time, the boy noticed, and with one arm around my neck, he covered his nose with his free hand and looked embarrassed, as if he thought that HE did it. He jumped off me and ran towards one of the teachers, who opened his pants to glance at his diaper. She saw nothing, but at that moment the demon punched her in the nose, and she checked again, this time with a more thorough look. She saw nothing and looked very confused. The teacher looked up at me, I sat in my mini chair at the coloring table with a genuine smile and shrugged at her as if to say “They’re kids, what are you gonna do?”
I turned back around to color by myself and my roommate snuck up on me and whispered in my ear again “Ok, I know that was you. That was fucking disgusting.”
I responded innocently “Omg are you kidding? That kid just shat his pants and practically got it all over me, and you’re gonna blame me? Look, the teacher is checking his diaper, told you!”
“Whatever, I know that was you, and you’re fucking gross”
“Stop hating on me and leave me alone! Today is about the children, not you.”
I walked over to another coloring table to start fresh. The kids gravitated towards me, as they always do, and immediately I was faced with another demon trying to get out. In an act of extreme unselfishness, I got up and walked away from the table and headed towards the door.
Those poor little kids had nothing to look forward to except getting sent back to the bush to live in extreme poverty, and hopefully not be killed or outcasted; and yet they had the spirit of the happiest kids in the world. Their wonderful spirit made me feel bad about ripping ass and crop dusting the entire room as I walked out.
I heard a few kids say “ewwwwww” before I got to the door. I turned around and saw 3 kids holding their hands up to their noses, and just behind them, sitting at one of the coloring tables, my roommate, with her hand over her mouth, and eyes as wide as they could open. The look on her face screamed “OH, MY, GOD.”
I pointed to the kids who were holding their faces and mouthed the words “It was them,” then I turned back around and hurried out of the room.
I could not ignore the demons, and I could not ignore the children that I was there to make feel special. I decided that my best bet was to go into one of the barracks rooms and play with the children in their beds. I figured that those rooms already stunk so heavily of piss, puss, and shit that there was no way in hell they would notice my dainty little farts…..
Before I got to the room my roommate ran up to me and pulled my arm “Dude, seriously, that was fucking disgusting, I know it was you.”
I got serious for a second, I look both ways to make sure no one could hear me, then I leaned in to her ear and said ,
“You listen to me right now. I don’t care what you smell, or what you think, no matter what happens, no matter WHO shits themselves, WE BLAME THE CHILDREN. Is that clear?”
She cracked up laughing and said “Oh my God, you’re ridiculous Donny.”
I had already begun walking towards my first barracks room, so I turned around and mouthed the words “WE BLAME THE CHILDREN,” then disappeared into the room full of post surgery, bedridden children.
As expected, I got punched in the face with piss and shit, but it was no big deal, I was ready for it. I smiled big and gave each child a high five, handshake, or hug. I didn’t want some pussy strain of Ebola, I wanted the real deal, so I spent as much time hugging the children as possible. When the initial excitement of my presence wore off, and the language barrier inserted itself as a physical barrier, I walked to the bookshelf and grabbed a book to read to the children.
I had been in there for 10 minutes without letting out a demon. I was beginning to think that all the demons might have escaped……
I sat down and began to read a children’s story in Swahili to 4 boys sitting in their beds. A few more kids hobbled over on crutches, or sliding on their hands and knees, as many of them did. They were all very impressed with my ability to read a story in Swahili. Little did they know, Swahili is the most phonetically simple language I have ever experienced, so I sounded like I was fluent. I couldn’t say more than “hello, goodbye, thank you, you’re welcome,” and “sorry” in Swahili, but I carried on convincing these kids that I was a fluent Swahili-speaking-Mzungu.
I liked the inspired looks on their faces as I read, so when one of the children tried to read the story out loud I had to put him in his place.
I don’t know what made him think he could be the group reader, but on a long dramatic pause during my reading he jumped in and read with a terrible stutter.
“Ng-g-g-on--du, che-che-chwez-z-z-a, na-na-namest-“ I couldn’t control myself any longer.
“Excuse me, I’M the Swahili master here, please don’t steal my thunder right now. You’ll get a turn later, Thank you”
I continued reading, and the children continued being inspired. Shortly after that interruption, the demons knocked again. This time I wasn’t having it. I was not about to let them devastate this room full of sick, disabled, and diseased children. I told the demons to shove it up their asses. They responded by banging loudly on the door with a battering ram. I began sweating and my hands started shaking as I continued reading the story. The children didn’t notice anything.
I paused for a second on a page turn and looked at all of their cute faces. All of them sat wide eyed, giving me their undivided attention, entranced by the story about police officers catching robbers, and more importantly, by the mzungu (white person) who could read Swahili. They were the most adorable kids I had ever seen.
As I sat on the edge of the bed, there were 5 kids on that same bed. 3 of them were standing up behind me, leaning on me, looking at the book over my shoulders. One baby was in my lap, and another was laying down because he had a cast on each leg. On the bed across from me sat 5 more kids, some sat indian style, some were on their bellies with their face in their hands, some rested on each other. It was a beautiful scene of love amongst less fortunate children; and I was seconds away from destroying all things beautiful with one hot puff of methane gas.
I looked back down at the baby in my lap. The cute little African bush baby looked at me and smiled with so much joy in his face it almost brought me to tears. Little did this poor bush baby know he wasn’t going to be smiling much longer. I squeezed as hard as I could to control myself, and keep the demons away from these innocent children, but the demons were too strong for me.
The demons then took it a step further and started a fire in my colon. I knew I was seconds away from disaster, so the only thing I could do was to run out and spare these children from my evil. I was going to explode any second, so with sweat dripping down my nose, I quickly stood up and picked the baby off my lap and tried to put him on the bed, but there was no where to put him except on another child. I turned to look for a place for him on the other bed, and at that moment 17 demons silently rushed out of my asshole and sprinted towards the children’s noses. I should have shut the asshole door before they were all out, but it felt so good my eyes rolled back in my head, and I got the chills as I let the demons run free. I stood there, baby in hands and watched, hoping maybe the smell of their piss and shit would render my demons harmless. I could not have been more wrong. Everyone covered their noses and mouths and held their breathe as if their was a fire in the room.
No one group of people has ever been in a more certain agreement about any one thing, than those disabled children were, that I just shat my pants.
To make things worse, my roommate walked in to tell me it was time to leave. She walked right into the blast radius and got kicked in the nose. She covered her nose and mouth again, eyes wide open, then said “Oh my God, Get out. Leave now.”
I tried defending myself, “NO, NO, it was the children. Trust me, these fuckin kids stink, they’re lik--“
“Leave NOW” She pointed out the door.
I looked at the baby in my hands, he was still smiling. He also had cleft lip, which, if I’m not mistaken, could affect the olfactory glands, which would explain why he was still smiling.
I put the baby down and said good bye to everyone. Once the smell was gone they forgave me and rubbed their diseases all over me with hugs and kisses.
As I walked by my roommate I whispered angrily “What did I tell you? No matter WHAT happens, we blame the children. Did I not make that clear?”
“Shut up Donny. You could seriously kill a child with that smell. These kids are already fighting back disease with every ounce of strength in their bodies. Your shit could cripple their immune system!”
“Ok, ok ,ok, now your just being dramatic. You can stop now. Even IF that was me, those kids smell way worse.”
“No, actually I’ve been volunteering here for 3 months, and no they don’t. You are the worst thing that has ever walked into the Plaster House.”
We argued the whole way home. I shat myself a few times on the way, and of course, I blamed it on the children.
When we got home my host daughter Josie ran up to give me a hug. I hugged her and spun her around, and then did a little dance with her, as we always did. She would show me her newest club dance move, and I would show her some old school, West Coast, Crip Walking. She was 6.
A few minutes into our dancing Josie farted loudly and the room immediately smelled of fresh hot shit. We both looked at each other and froze. She opened her eyes wide, made an “O” face with her mouth and said “UH OH” then ran out of the room. My roommate walked in and smelled the fresh hot shit. Naturally, she assumed it was me,
“Donny get the fuck out of the living room and fix your fucking asshole. That is not okay.”
“No, No, No, that wasn’t me, that was Josie. I swear to God.”
“Bull fucking shit. Just like the last 15 times right? Seriously, get out now.”
“No, no ,no, okay listen, I can admit that a few of those from earlier might have been me, but---“
“A few?”
“Okay, maybe most of them. But this time it really wasn’t me, it was Josie. Why do you think she ran out so fast?”
“Probably to get away from the smell of your asshole. I’ve been watching kids sprint in the opposite direction of you all day!”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. I had a vision of dozens of kids running from me like I was Godzilla.
“Okay,” I said still laughing, “you’re being dramatic, maybe a COUPLE kids scooted, like, ONE chair over. “
Josie came back into the room smiling and wanting to play, I picked her up while I was swinging her around let out one last silent but deadly fart that really did me in. The smell topped just about everything I had done that day.
Josie yelled “Ewwwwwww, poot me down” and then ran out of the room again, screaming as she ran. She was such a drama Queen.
My roommate stood there, with her hand on her mouth, shaking her head in disgust.
My face was bright red.
“Ok, ok, ok. That one might have been me.” The room was silent. I decided to excuse myself, “Im gonna go clean up.”
Blame it On The Children Something is wrong with me. Deep down in the depths of my bowels there lie evil demons that breathe death, fire, and ill-will into the noses of all those who come too close. These demons are created by the foods I eat and the terrible things I’ve done in my life. And trust me, these demons are mean.
While I was volunteering in Tanzania I went to a handful of volunteer placements to see where I would be the most effective. I had been to two schools and two orphanages when my roommate recommended that I come check out her placement, The Plaster House.
The Plaster house was an incredible place that took injured and disabled children out of the bush and gave them corrective surgeries for their disabilities. The most common disability was club foot, but amongst others were cleft lip, fluorosis, burns, tumors, paralysis, autism, retardation, and other deformities that would have out casted them from African society, and guaranteed them a miserable life, and an early death.. At first glance it was both really depressing and really inspiring. Depressing because these poor kids had terrible disabilities at such young ages, and inspiring because these poor kids get a free surgery, education, and love from great people. I was leaning towards inspired.
I was a bit nervous before I walked into the building because my roommate warned me of the terrible sight, smells, and sounds of these children. I didn’t know how I’d react when face to face with kids with terrible deformities or diseases. I had hoped that I would be just as smiling and loving as usual, but I was worried about vomiting on them, and breaking into uncontrollable tears. Plus I was wearing my best shirt, (one of three I brought to Africa) and I didn’t want anyone’s vomit or shit on it, including my own.
I had one last ailment that made my time in the plaster house a little more stressful that it had to be…..
The night prior I got barely any sleep because of terrible indigestion. The war that raged in my digestive system was so hateful I was left sweating, tossing, turning, and yelling obscenities that could only come from someone going through an exorcism. While I was not able to get the demons out, I was able to consolidate the demons in one place, my colon. With the demons so close to the back door, my greatest fear was that my body would expel the demons while reading a lovely story to a bunch of disabled kids.
Once inside The Plaster House the smell of disinfectant, piss, and shit filled my lungs like hospital potpourri. It reminded of a cross between my patrol base in Afghanistan, minus the disinfectant, and a farm, minus the disinfectant.
My roommate showed me each of the rooms that the children stayed in. It looked like military barracks, except there were no bunk beds. They were all single bunks right next to each other. Each room had a nurse who was helping the kids either change their clothes or redress their bandages.
After she showed me each of the barracks rooms we went to the main classroom and playroom where the majority of the children were. There were lots of kids playing with Legos on the floor, there were three tables full of kids coloring and drawing, there were some kids reading, and others playing with teddy bears and toy cars.
I sprinted to the Legos and plopped myself down in the middle of a big group of 4 year olds. Immediately I was swarmed by kids who wanted to jump on me, show me their creations, and rub their filthy hands in my face. Some of the kids had big welts, blisters, and sores on their faces and heads. It made me a little uneasy, especially with the whole Ebola thing going around, but I couldn’t allow myself to shy away from these poor bastards when they just wanted some affection. So I just accepted the fact that I was going to get AIDS and Ebola, and let the kids play all over me.
I had to close my eyes and wince on a few occasions when the kids who had the worst burns or sores were jumping on me, especially because some of those kids smelled the most like human shit.
Just as the group of kids playing with me was at its peak, the demons started knocking on the back door. I said “Sorry assholes, you gotta wait” and they said “FUCK YOU.” Regrettably, one of them silently snuck out the door.
As the demon crept through the group of disabled children who were sitting on the floor building legos, it picked them off one by one. Each child, upon smelling the demon, changed his behavior in a unique manner.
One child began sneezing.
Another child began coughing violently.
Another child began crying.
Another child got angry and threw his lego creation into the ground and smashed it pieces. He continued smashing legos in a rage.
Another child began acting erratically, jumping, rolling, and moving at twice his normal speed.
A bunch of children pinched their noses to avoid the smell.
My personal favorite, was the child that had a case of ADHD that rivaled mine. He stopped trying to climb on me, jumped down into my lap, then off my lap onto the floor, put his hand over his nose, and looked at me with wide and angry eyes as if to say “I know you just shat your pants. Go clean your fucking diaper and then come back and play.” He never said a word, but I knew…
My roommate was 15 feet away, she walked over casually and whispered in my ear “Did you just shit your pants?”
“NO, I’d admit it if I did… But look around, there’s probably 20 kids who shat their pants today so Im sure we’ll find out.”
She looked at me suspiciously as she walked away.
Once the demon passed, all the children went back to behaving normally, and came back to climb all over me.
A few minutes later another demon escaped, and the children reacted in the exact same way. Every one of them, including the one who gave me the look.
He gave me the exact same look again. This time he added a side to side head shake.
I played dumb and smiled, then grabbed some toys and help them up in front of his face, hoping that my silliness and charm would distract him from the shit smell. He shook his head again, he was not amused.
I blew him off and said “Whatever nerd” and continued playing with another child.
A few minutes later, a demon escaped again. All the children reacted the same way, except for the one with the look, he said “Fuck this shit, im out” and threw his legos down as he walked to go color.
The rest of the children looked at me as if they all know I was the culprit. Again, I played dumb and smiled innocently.
I was quickly sick of their accusatory looks, so I got up to go color. None of the children looked disappointed that I was leaving.
I was slightly intimidated by the boy who called me out earlier, so I avoided his coloring table.
At another coloring table I saw a shy boy who wasn’t coloring. In fact he wasn’t doing anything at all He was just blankly staring at the table with his face resting on his hands.
I decided to try and cheer him up. I drew a few silly items on a paper and held them up for him to see. Then I colored them in front of him, and made it seem like the most fun I’d ever had.. I made goofy faces, silly sounds, and finally he warmed up to me. A few minutes later, he was laughing hysterically and hanging all over me. It was exactly what I hoped for, I wanted to make him feel special and loved, and give him the affection that he has probably never had, but always wanted.
And then I shat my pants.
I didn’t even see it coming, but another fucking demon got out, and this one was a real asshole.
The boy didn’t seem to notice, he continued laughing and rubbing his Ebola all over me as he tried to climb up to my head. The girls on the other side of the table DID notice. They were too shy to blatantly accuse me, but I could tell I was their prime suspect.
I continued playing with the boy for another 5 minutes, when I felt a demon knocking. I tried to keep him in, but he broke the door down and rushed out. This time, the boy noticed, and with one arm around my neck, he covered his nose with his free hand and looked embarrassed, as if he thought that HE did it. He jumped off me and ran towards one of the teachers, who opened his pants to glance at his diaper. She saw nothing, but at that moment the demon punched her in the nose, and she checked again, this time with a more thorough look. She saw nothing and looked very confused. The teacher looked up at me, I sat in my mini chair at the coloring table with a genuine smile and shrugged at her as if to say “They’re kids, what are you gonna do?”
I turned back around to color by myself and my roommate snuck up on me and whispered in my ear again “Ok, I know that was you. That was fucking disgusting.”
I responded innocently “Omg are you kidding? That kid just shat his pants and practically got it all over me, and you’re gonna blame me? Look, the teacher is checking his diaper, told you!”
“Whatever, I know that was you, and you’re fucking gross”
“Stop hating on me and leave me alone! Today is about the children, not you.”
I walked over to another coloring table to start fresh. The kids gravitated towards me, as they always do, and immediately I was faced with another demon trying to get out. In an act of extreme unselfishness, I got up and walked away from the table and headed towards the door.
Those poor little kids had nothing to look forward to except getting sent back to the bush to live in extreme poverty, and hopefully not be killed or outcasted; and yet they had the spirit of the happiest kids in the world. Their wonderful spirit made me feel bad about ripping ass and crop dusting the entire room as I walked out.
I heard a few kids say “ewwwwww” before I got to the door. I turned around and saw 3 kids holding their hands up to their noses, and just behind them, sitting at one of the coloring tables, my roommate, with her hand over her mouth, and eyes as wide as they could open. The look on her face screamed “OH, MY, GOD.”
I pointed to the kids who were holding their faces and mouthed the words “It was them,” then I turned back around and hurried out of the room.
I could not ignore the demons, and I could not ignore the children that I was there to make feel special. I decided that my best bet was to go into one of the barracks rooms and play with the children in their beds. I figured that those rooms already stunk so heavily of piss, puss, and shit that there was no way in hell they would notice my dainty little farts…..
Before I got to the room my roommate ran up to me and pulled my arm “Dude, seriously, that was fucking disgusting, I know it was you.”
I got serious for a second, I look both ways to make sure no one could hear me, then I leaned in to her ear and said ,
“You listen to me right now. I don’t care what you smell, or what you think, no matter what happens, no matter WHO shits themselves, WE BLAME THE CHILDREN. Is that clear?”
She cracked up laughing and said “Oh my God, you’re ridiculous Donny.”
I had already begun walking towards my first barracks room, so I turned around and mouthed the words “WE BLAME THE CHILDREN,” then disappeared into the room full of post surgery, bedridden children.
As expected, I got punched in the face with piss and shit, but it was no big deal, I was ready for it. I smiled big and gave each child a high five, handshake, or hug. I didn’t want some pussy strain of Ebola, I wanted the real deal, so I spent as much time hugging the children as possible. When the initial excitement of my presence wore off, and the language barrier inserted itself as a physical barrier, I walked to the bookshelf and grabbed a book to read to the children.
I had been in there for 10 minutes without letting out a demon. I was beginning to think that all the demons might have escaped……
I sat down and began to read a children’s story in Swahili to 4 boys sitting in their beds. A few more kids hobbled over on crutches, or sliding on their hands and knees, as many of them did. They were all very impressed with my ability to read a story in Swahili. Little did they know, Swahili is the most phonetically simple language I have ever experienced, so I sounded like I was fluent. I couldn’t say more than “hello, goodbye, thank you, you’re welcome,” and “sorry” in Swahili, but I carried on convincing these kids that I was a fluent Swahili-speaking-Mzungu.
I liked the inspired looks on their faces as I read, so when one of the children tried to read the story out loud I had to put him in his place.
I don’t know what made him think he could be the group reader, but on a long dramatic pause during my reading he jumped in and read with a terrible stutter.
“Ng-g-g-on--du, che-che-chwez-z-z-a, na-na-namest-“ I couldn’t control myself any longer.
“Excuse me, I’M the Swahili master here, please don’t steal my thunder right now. You’ll get a turn later, Thank you”
I continued reading, and the children continued being inspired. Shortly after that interruption, the demons knocked again. This time I wasn’t having it. I was not about to let them devastate this room full of sick, disabled, and diseased children. I told the demons to shove it up their asses. They responded by banging loudly on the door with a battering ram. I began sweating and my hands started shaking as I continued reading the story. The children didn’t notice anything.
I paused for a second on a page turn and looked at all of their cute faces. All of them sat wide eyed, giving me their undivided attention, entranced by the story about police officers catching robbers, and more importantly, by the mzungu (white person) who could read Swahili. They were the most adorable kids I had ever seen.
As I sat on the edge of the bed, there were 5 kids on that same bed. 3 of them were standing up behind me, leaning on me, looking at the book over my shoulders. One baby was in my lap, and another was laying down because he had a cast on each leg. On the bed across from me sat 5 more kids, some sat indian style, some were on their bellies with their face in their hands, some rested on each other. It was a beautiful scene of love amongst less fortunate children; and I was seconds away from destroying all things beautiful with one hot puff of methane gas.
I looked back down at the baby in my lap. The cute little African bush baby looked at me and smiled with so much joy in his face it almost brought me to tears. Little did this poor bush baby know he wasn’t going to be smiling much longer. I squeezed as hard as I could to control myself, and keep the demons away from these innocent children, but the demons were too strong for me.
The demons then took it a step further and started a fire in my colon. I knew I was seconds away from disaster, so the only thing I could do was to run out and spare these children from my evil. I was going to explode any second, so with sweat dripping down my nose, I quickly stood up and picked the baby off my lap and tried to put him on the bed, but there was no where to put him except on another child. I turned to look for a place for him on the other bed, and at that moment 17 demons silently rushed out of my asshole and sprinted towards the children’s noses. I should have shut the asshole door before they were all out, but it felt so good my eyes rolled back in my head, and I got the chills as I let the demons run free. I stood there, baby in hands and watched, hoping maybe the smell of their piss and shit would render my demons harmless. I could not have been more wrong. Everyone covered their noses and mouths and held their breathe as if their was a fire in the room.
No one group of people has ever been in a more certain agreement about any one thing, than those disabled children were, that I just shat my pants.
To make things worse, my roommate walked in to tell me it was time to leave. She walked right into the blast radius and got kicked in the nose. She covered her nose and mouth again, eyes wide open, then said “Oh my God, Get out. Leave now.”
I tried defending myself, “NO, NO, it was the children. Trust me, these fuckin kids stink, they’re lik--“
“Leave NOW” She pointed out the door.
I looked at the baby in my hands, he was still smiling. He also had cleft lip, which, if I’m not mistaken, could affect the olfactory glands, which would explain why he was still smiling.
I put the baby down and said good bye to everyone. Once the smell was gone they forgave me and rubbed their diseases all over me with hugs and kisses.
As I walked by my roommate I whispered angrily “What did I tell you? No matter WHAT happens, we blame the children. Did I not make that clear?”
“Shut up Donny. You could seriously kill a child with that smell. These kids are already fighting back disease with every ounce of strength in their bodies. Your shit could cripple their immune system!”
“Ok, ok ,ok, now your just being dramatic. You can stop now. Even IF that was me, those kids smell way worse.”
“No, actually I’ve been volunteering here for 3 months, and no they don’t. You are the worst thing that has ever walked into the Plaster House.”
We argued the whole way home. I shat myself a few times on the way, and of course, I blamed it on the children.
When we got home my host daughter Josie ran up to give me a hug. I hugged her and spun her around, and then did a little dance with her, as we always did. She would show me her newest club dance move, and I would show her some old school, West Coast, Crip Walking. She was 6.
A few minutes into our dancing Josie farted loudly and the room immediately smelled of fresh hot shit. We both looked at each other and froze. She opened her eyes wide, made an “O” face with her mouth and said “UH OH” then ran out of the room. My roommate walked in and smelled the fresh hot shit. Naturally, she assumed it was me,
“Donny get the fuck out of the living room and fix your fucking asshole. That is not okay.”
“No, No, No, that wasn’t me, that was Josie. I swear to God.”
“Bull fucking shit. Just like the last 15 times right? Seriously, get out now.”
“No, no ,no, okay listen, I can admit that a few of those from earlier might have been me, but---“
“A few?”
“Okay, maybe most of them. But this time it really wasn’t me, it was Josie. Why do you think she ran out so fast?”
“Probably to get away from the smell of your asshole. I’ve been watching kids sprint in the opposite direction of you all day!”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. I had a vision of dozens of kids running from me like I was Godzilla.
“Okay,” I said still laughing, “you’re being dramatic, maybe a COUPLE kids scooted, like, ONE chair over. “
Josie came back into the room smiling and wanting to play, I picked her up while I was swinging her around let out one last silent but deadly fart that really did me in. The smell topped just about everything I had done that day.
Josie yelled “Ewwwwwww, poot me down” and then ran out of the room again, screaming as she ran. She was such a drama Queen.
My roommate stood there, with her hand on her mouth, shaking her head in disgust.
My face was bright red.
“Ok, ok, ok. That one might have been me.” The room was silent. I decided to excuse myself, “Im gonna go clean up.”