Nighttime Toilet Anxiety and a Series of Goodbyes

Ever since I started college I became a devout watch-wearer. A lot of people like to use their cell phones as a time-telling device, but I’m a very instant-gratification kind of person and like to know within the second what time it is rather than having to wait the extra two seconds of pulling the phone out and lighting the LED screen. I think it stemmed from my perpetual lateness to class (or my unwillingness to get up any earlier than I had to for morning classes), but I was able to time to the second how long it would take me to get from my bedroom to my seat in the lecture hall without having to miss any important lecture information, and having a watch on my left wrist was crucial to that process. The watch I brought with me to Cambodia had been with me for a good year or so; it was a small silver analog watch with a navy blue leather strap. Recently, due to the lethal combination of heat, humidity, and human sweat, the strap had started to give away and become rather unwilling to stay put on my wrist. It was a small inconvenience; the watch didn’t fall off often and when it did it was still pretty easy to put it back on.

One evening, I was getting my last use of the squat toilet in before the sky darkened beyond human vision capabilities. Our toilet is outdoors, and the trek to it involves a windy foot-wide, 10-meter long trail of concrete through the family vegetable farm so once it gets too dark my host sister shuts the door that leads to this trail (and to the toilet) and everyone just uses their chamber pots. The thing is, I didn’t get a chamber pot when I first moved in. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, because back in the States I hardly ever had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, and so I didn’t ask for one during the first nights here. However, I failed to take into account that it gets dark at around 6 here. The bathroom, then, is off-limits at 6. I don’t go to sleep until 9, usually, and I wake up around 6. That’s 12 full hours without access to a toilet. And so I developed something I like to affectionately call “Nighttime Toilet Anxiety”, or NTA.  NTA manifests itself through the constant urge to urinate, even though you don’t really have to, because you’re fully anticipating having to go sometime during the night and not having the resources to do so. I usually experience NTA around 6 or 7, right after the bathroom trail is cut off, and it lasts all night. Why didn’t I just ask for a chamber pot, you ask? Other than the fact that having warm urine sit in my bedroom overnight kind of disgusts me, I didn’t want to burden my family or look like a fool by asking for a chamber pot in the middle of my stay here (“Why didn’t you need one for these past few weeks? Why do you need one now?”). I don’t even know if they have an extra one to spare. And so I endured the trials of NTA, occasionally sneaking out of the house with my headlamp and feeling my way blindly through the dense vegetation that leads to the toilet, only to find that I actually didn’t need to urinate at all and it was just freakin’ NTA playing around with me! The family dog caught me a couple of times and it made me nervous when she’d show signs of wanting to bark, but I’ve taken to feeding her bits of my scraps during dinnertime so she now loves me and doesn’t bark at all.

Back to my story, though: after doing my business, I noticed that there was something in the toilet with me, something that resembled a large worm-like creature with a narrow dark body and was wriggling about in my urine. I yelped and then immediately collected myself and did what the only logical thing seemed to be at the moment: I dumped a bucketful of water down the squat toilet to initiate the flush mechanism and it was goodbye, worm!  Feeling rather pleased with my accomplishment, I sauntered out of the bathroom and began to wash my hands, during which I noticed that my left wrist was noticeably bare. Namely, watch-free.

Shit. That wasn’t a worm, was it? Nope. It was my watch. I flushed my watch down the squat toilet. Cheers. Goodbye, watch.

The next weekend I bought a new watch at the market in Kampong Cham for four dollars. Two days later, it stopped working. (Rather than take another leap of faith in Cambodian electronics, I called my mother and begged her to send me an American watch over.)

This past Thursday was also my last day with my host family. My family was very hands-off with me, and while I appreciate their help, support, and care deeply, it didn’t really ever feel like family; I just felt like a boarder. It’s okay though, I appreciated all the privacy they afforded me whether to study Khmer or read or talk on the phone.

We had a TK going away party where all the families and PCTs got together to eat, drink, dance, and be merry. The above picture is of fellow TK PCTs johl gaio-ing (cheers-ing).

After eating everyone got together and danced in the blazing Cambodian heat. This was taken during one of our fan breaks. The village girls are so incredibly friendly, welcoming, and affectionate.

And so at the end of it all I said goodbye to my family, my host grandma on the left and my host sister in the middle. I’m going to miss them, but I’m more excited to move on with this Cambodian adventure and move into my new family’s home. I’m sure I’ll be back in TK to visit, though, since I loved living there. It was honestly the best training village….but I might be a little biased.