This Campfire Tale called “The Long Drop” first appeared in a Dispatch, the updates sent to all Society members. You can join for free here.
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These are the stories most often told around a campfire, with a drink in hand and nature as a soundtrack. The tales are all true, but often with some artistic liberty. Names have been changed for deniability.
Most safari guides have a story of two about memorable guests and memorable guiding moments. Some are memorable for amazing things and some for the unfortunate things. This is one of the latter.
A guide in Kenya we know quite well, having travelled with him many times, shared this story after much prodding over a drink. He had a client travelling with him who had a unique problem. She was terrified of toilets. And not just any toilets, but long drop toilets: the most predominate kind of toilet found in national parks in East Africa.
For those of you who haven’t had the privilege, long drop toilets are a semi sustainable way to provide toilet facilities in area lacking the ability to connect to a sewage system. This could be because of its location being in a protected national park, distance from infrastructure or the sheer cost involved. So, instead of your waste being flushed away by your toilet, your business instead takes a ‘long drop’ into a pit far below. This pit stores all of the waste from the block where it breaks down over time. It’s all in the name.
Anyway, this guest had a serious fear of them. She feared exposing her delicates to the unknown. She feared what could possibly live in the pit far below and how it plotted to strike when she least expected it. She feared beasties of all nature crawling their way out of the toilet whilst she sat upon it, despite the fact that the toilet hole is more like the roof of a cave rather than the main entrance. Because of all this, she flat out refused to use one.
Now, normally guests are hesitant the first time they use the toilet, the reassuring ‘splash’ of a successful evacuation instead replaced by a deathly silence as it free-falls into the abyss. However, once the first long drop is under their belt (so to speak), then it’s usually no longer a problem.
The problem was that this guest wouldn’t attempt to try one. And, in East Africa, flushing toilets are few and far between. This resulted in extreme discomfort for the guest trying to ignore the call of nature for hours on end. And, when that became too much, she stopped drinking during the day altogether. This isn’t a wise idea for any location, but especially in the hotter northern sections of Kenya, it’s foolish.
Seeing this and seeing his guest in distress, our guide fruitlessly tried to get her to use a long drop in between the long detours needed to find flushing toilets. He gave her encouragement, bravery and a willingness to embrace the adventure. He slowly gained her trust. And so one day, when the urge was too great to ignore, he finally convinced her to use a nearby long drop. With trepidation, she agreed. He went in first, inspected the toilet and made sure there was nothing around the seat. And finally, gave her the all clear.
She summoned up her courage, entered her cubicle and pulled down her pants to face her fears. It was a moment of triumph. As her backside inched towards the seat, she could feel a surge in pride at having finally conquered her fear.
Unfortunately it was also in this moment, as she perched precariously above the seat, that from deep within the pit a small bat shot out between her legs at top speed.
They say that bats are mostly blind but have tremendous hearing. I can only then imagine the pain this bat felt, large ears at the ready, when this woman let out a scream so loud that nearby zebra herds scattered. The guide ran in, assuming his client was being attacked by a major predator, to find her storming out of the toilet block in a panic, pants still around her ankles.
She never used a long drop again. She also never spoke or looked at the guide again for the remainder of the trip.
As for the bat, it has quite a story to tell.
