Don't drink the water

WARNING: GRAPHIC SCATOLOGICAL CONTENT

The verdict is in, there was contaminated water in the juice we were drinking at the hostel. I have made the mistake of assuming that hostels and hotels typically would make juice with boiled or purified water since they deal with tourists. This is 100% not always correct. The result is a perpetual purgatory of the the intestinal tract whose anguish knows no bounds. Details to follow:

I am back in Arusha and I am staying with other volunteers and a different host mother because the Shettos have relatives visiting. This was my first night staying there. I had to shit real bad last night and realized that the host mother that I am staying with locks the door to the house at night and that means since i live in a shack out back I cannot shit in a civilized manner. Note, my bowels are still in the throws of a parasitic rebellion and the amount of air and swelling in my stomach is feigning a pregnancy.

So I wandered around a little seeking a place to hide my orange orange poo (WHY IS IT ORANGE??), got scared by the cow and chickens a few times, and eventually settled for the trash heap where concealing it would be reasonably achievable. I then proceeded to splatter paint the mound in a manner that would have provoked pride in Van Gough, made a pathetic attempt to conceal my shame, and went back to sleep.

The moral of the story? Don't ever drink anything unless you KNOW where it comes from. Or alternatively, bring lots of toilet paper and maybe a bucket.

I have considered submitting the following letter regarding my travel arrangements:

Dear Qatar Airways,
I humbly apologize for the havoc that I will wreak upon your noble vessel. For ultimate customer satisfaction on our upcoming voyage, please place me in a sound-proof room with ample plumbing and (preferably) a few cushions. I say this not for myself, but for rest of the passengers. Also, please feed me nothing but bread.
Thank you for your consideration, I will try not to stain your cushions.