by Heather Plett | Oct 21, 2006 | Uncategorized
In response to Jenny’s post about the photo her friend sent her of an ancient potty-training chair, I found myself rooting around for this photo from my trip to Africa: 
Look inside that open door. Notice anything missing? Yes, you got it – a toilet seat. Or even a wooden bench with a hole in it. This, my friends, is what we “affectionately” referred to as the “squatty potty”. You just hike up your skirt or shorts, squat down with your butt hanging over the hole, and do your business. With practice, you can actually get everything IN the hole instead of beside it – or worse, on your foot. After one of our travel companions, while trying to get used to the squatting position, dropped a few shillings down the hole, we started referring to our “business” as “dropping shillings in the hole”.
When you’re doing the kind of travelling I did in Africa (visiting remote villages, staying far from any tourist attractions), you have to get used to dealing with squatty potties. Not all of them were this bad – in some of the nicer establishments we stayed in, they looked a little more like this: 
See the shower head on the wall? In this particular hotel, the squatty potty doubled as the drainage for your shower. And, if I remember correctly, you were supposed to gather as much of the water from washing and showering in that bucket as possible, so that you could save water by using that for flushing.
Are you tempted to go to Africa yet? When I shared these pictures with Jenny, she said she was going to kiss her toilet. (I’m still waiting for the pictures of THAT!)
I love travelling, and I look forward to going back to Africa, but I have to admit, washrooms provided the greatest challenges for me. One never feels particularly clean when you have to squat over a dirty hole in the ground and only occasionally find a water source close enough to wash your hands. And (guys, you may want to skip the next sentence), if you have your period, like I did during my trip… well, you can guess how “lemony fresh” I was feeling. Add the oppressive heat and the dust, and the lack of showers in some of the places we stayed, and you have the makings of a fairly stinking bunch of travellers stuck in a bus together for hours on end.
One of my bleakest moments in Africa happened in a washroom. Thankfully, this was one of the few places with a western-style toilet, because I spent much of the night on it, doubled over in nauseous agony. In my sickly stupor, I glanced up at the concrete wall in front of me, and there perched a happy little gecko munching on his night-snack – a very large cockroach. Ugh.
The truth is though, I can’t wait to go back. Africa is amazing, the people are fascinating, the experiences are exhilarating, and the scenery is incredible. I want to fuel my soul with their stories again. I want to be touched by their hospitality. I want to hear the joy in their singing. I want to listen to the wisdom of the community elders. I want to watch the children dancing in the village gathering-place. I want to be humbled and honoured when they share a meagre meal with me. I want to relive that breath-taking moment, watching the uniform-clad school boys dash off to school singing, while the sun rose over the accacia trees. 
Once in awhile, in this efficiency-obsessed western world, it does us good to squat over a hole in the ground for awhile. Sometimes, in the giving up of conveniences and the acceptance of simplicity, we find ourselves more connected with the earth and the people who walk on it with us.
by Heather Plett | Oct 20, 2006 | Uncategorized
Double by-pass plus valve replacement. He’s in recovery. It’s a wonder what they can do nowadays.
Not much else to say today. The girls and I attended movie night at school. Got to see Over the Hedge again. That’s one of my favourite kids’ movies of late. I LOVE Hammie’s slow motion scene. It was worth it just to see that scene again.
Coming out of the school tonight, gentle snow was falling. It’s hard not to like snow when it comes down so soft and gentle and the children dash outside to try to catch it on their tongues. The seasons of time are just as they should be, covering the ground with white so that it can rejuvenate and recover in time for another Spring.
Perhaps my father-in-law will be out in his garden again, come Spring. I can’t imagine him without his garden and his John Deere lawn tractors.
For now, though, Fall has settled in, and just like Hammie with his nuts, it’s time for the long rest.
by Heather Plett | Oct 19, 2006 | Uncategorized
My father-in-law is lying on an operating table with his heart sliced open.
Thank God for the gifted hands of surgeons.
by Heather Plett | Oct 19, 2006 | Uncategorized
Tonight, in the dark recesses of my cupboard, I discovered that I still have some of this…
So, picture me, sitting here in front of my computer, enjoying a hot cup of chai latte, in my favourite Laurel Burch mug. Aaahhh…
Wanna come over for some?
by Heather Plett | Oct 19, 2006 | Uncategorized
This afternoon, I took my corporate credit card, walked down the street, and bought the following toys:
So the next time I go to Africa (which will probably be in January or February), I get to lug this baby around and snap me some real good pics! Jealous yet?
I’m just trying to catch up for the whole year of jealousy you caused me back in 1991.
by Heather Plett | Oct 18, 2006 | Uncategorized
For centuries, people have been designing magnificent churches. They’ve also been designing beautiful and comfortable homes. Nowadays, companies spend millions to design beautiful stores and shopping centres. My question is – with all these gifted designers in the world, WHY hasn’t anyone figured out how to design a decent hospital emergency room???
I’ve been in quite a few emergency rooms, and I have NEVER been in one that is designed well. They are the most depressing, ugly, cluttered, disconcerting places I have ever seen. Why? This is the place where people face fear, pain, death, loneliness, and all sorts of crazy emotions, and yet they’re forced to spend time in a space that does absolutely nothing to make any of those emotions easier to bear.
There are so many things wrong with emergency rooms. The waiting rooms are cramped and ugly, with the most uncomfortable utilitarian chairs in the world. The only things adorning the wall are public health posters warning you of the infectious diseases you might catch to add to the pain you’re already going through. The nurse’s desk is designed purely for function (and badly at that), with no attempt at making it friendly and comforting.
When you get past the nurse’s desk, through the horrific institutional doors that make you feel like you’ve stepped into prison, it gets worse. Beds are lined up against the wall with thin pastel curtains between them. There are tubes and wires everywhere. The nurses and doctors have to work in tiny cramped spaces. The walls are some nondescript colour that does nothing to soothe or comfort you.
In the portion of the emergency room we were in today, someone had made a feeble attempt at making the space more welcoming. They’d taped hundreds of calendar pictures all over the walls in a haphazard manner. It was enough to make your eyes dizzy, with splashes of unrelated colour in images everywhere you looked. It was a very sad attempt at redeeming an ugly space.
That’s just the SPACE. Don’t get me started on hallway medicine, where people have to spend hours and sometimes days lying in beds in the middle of hallways because there are not enough spaces for them elsewhere. More than once, I’ve had to lay on one of those hallway beds for several hours.
I could go on and on, but to tell you the truth, this rant is probably just my lame attempt at masking the real reason why I’m a little out of sorts tonight. We were in an emergency room tonight. Marcel’s dad is back in the hospital. His heart is deteriorating. He needs surgery, but it’s taken too long for them to book it, so he ended up with another heart attack. This time, they probably won’t send him home again until they can manage to schedule his surgery. Between by-passes and valve replacement, they practically have to rebuild his heart.
There is so little I can say about this. It’s not really my story to tell, since I am the in-law. But I can tell you that it hurts. No one wants to lose him, but nobody can change the way he has chosen to live his life. Nobody can hold him here. They can try to rebuild his heart, but they may not be able to ensure that it keeps beating.
