Charity workers are supposed to walk the talk. You support workers’ rights abroad so you buy fair trade; you defend animal rights and you become a vegetarian. After all, we are often passionate and driven by values, so we shouldn’t be hypocrites.
But I feel like I don’t walk the talk and I’ll have a hard time doing so because it’s all about how I poo.
I work in water and sanitation and our biggest challenge is how to tackle the taboo of toilets. Many taboos have fallen in recent decades, even sex. In the wake of the HIV pandemic, sexuality had to be talked about and now you learn as a teenager how to put a condom on a suitably shaped prop. But we’re left with what has been dubbed “the last taboo” – defecation – that we can’t name other than with childish names (poo), scientific jargon (excreta) or swear words (shit). I mean, we don’t often talk with friends about our latest bowel movements, do we?
It is because our defecating habits are so taboo that little has been done about it. Sanitation is the most off-track millennium development goal because instead of talking about toilets and poo and bad smells, we have politely debated sanitation – by which I mean pipes and water – but not how people poo. Today one billion people still shit in the open and half the world doesn’t have a toilet.
This has started to change significantly in the past 10 years, helped by new approaches of provoking people and “triggering” them to improve how they defecate, for example by calling excreta “shit”. All this is to break the taboo and to get toilets everywhere and I am proud to be one of those sanitation enthusiasts.
But the truth is, I am very squeamish when it comes to my loo habits. I need a good old flush toilet – if it smells, nothing comes out. I need a loo roll – using my hand and water, are you mad? I do hover over the toilet seat at work, despite knowing that it has far fewer bacteria than my computer keyboard. I tried squatting once and avoided disaster but I hope I won’t have to do it again. I just cannot pee when standing next to another guy. And of course I blush when talking about anything personal – why do you think I’m writing anonymously?
Taking it a step further, I know all about the benefits of ecological sanitation. These wonderful “ecosan” toilets that reuse precious nutrients from urine and faeces – it makes so much more sense than flushing it all down a sewer. But am I going to install a composting toilet in my back garden? Yuck! People say they don’t smell that much … but they do. And they’re outside. No way!
So, am I a hypocrite? Maybe. But realising how much I don’t want to change my personal habits means I can look at the bigger picture. I already have a toilet, so if it’s hard for me to change my habits, to even talk about them, how hard must it be when you don’t really have the choice, when your only loo is the river or the bushes? Or if you are not allowed to speak up because you are from the wrong caste or gender?
It is my feelings of disgust, of shame and of embarrassment that keep my compassion and empathy fuelled, that keep me motivated, and also that help me realise how people must feel when do-gooders like me come in with our beautifully crafted approaches. Should we really add more shame?
Maybe I’m doing this job to redeem my squeamishness. Maybe I have just found a way to reconcile my love for bad toilet puns and my repulsion for any talk about bodily functions. But most importantly, it’s not about me. When you think you have found the last taboo, another one comes up and needs addressing urgently. Menstruation, anyone? Now that dads can talk about it too, I see that as the next taboo to be broken.
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