Shit
I'll never forget a many of the experiences I had while traveling in India. India is so interesting because its so different from our culture here in the USA. One of the things they view differently is shit. We look at shit (as little as possible) as something unclean and to be avoided at all costs. You know that you are having a bad day when you step in dog shit. Even the word "shit" is not nice word. And yet there is no good alternative. To be sure there is feces. But that sounds very clinical. It is not too be used outside of scientific circles. Can you imagine anyone except an English lord saying, "Oh drat I've stepped in some dog feces"? The alternative is to use the word that we were taught when we were babies. DO-DO. So what word do you use? It depends who you are with. Certainly among other men , a man will use "shit". However in mixed gender or generations it is a bit of a dilemna. Should you sound like a prig or an imbecile. All the while everyone knows perfectly well what word you mean. "Shit" is also the word that most of us involuntarily say when something bad and unexpected happens. Only the good Lord knows how many people left this world with the word "shit" on their lips.(Never "feces" or "do-do"). Lets hope that God isn't an imbecile or a prig and thus judge us harshly for our last mortal utterance.
When I was a "wild frat boy" in college we once had the disgusting idea of having a "biggest turd" contest. The idea sounds disgusting and revolting doesn't it ? The very idea repulses. At the risk of losing my readers so soon into the story I will describe the contest. There is a reason to put you through this,gentle reader, rest assured. In order to participate in the contest you had to "capture" a "turd" in a jar. Photographs and heresay testimonials were not accepted. I "captured"a particularly promising entree one day. After capping and cleaning the jar, I had a chance to look at its contents. Disgust aside, it was interesting. I had never really looked at it before. The texture, the shape, the bits of undigested food embedded in it. It strikes me now that this can be taken as an anology of our Western culture. We never really deal with the unpleasant aspects of life like shit and death. I had actually never seen a dead person before I went to India. I'd been to funerals, but the caskets, if there had been any, had always been closed. In India, the dead are paraded through the streets on gurneys that are draped with flowers. The procession includes musicians and people throwing flowers. It resembles a party more than a funeral. This painful and final end to life is not hidden as it is in the west.
In the country the people use cow shit as a fuel. You can see the people out in the country collecting it. When it is dry it is hard like a biscuit. If times are difficult and the fuel is low, they may collect it before it is dry. They pick it up with their hands and pile it on their heads and walk home with their hands free. Once home that slap it onto a wall and let the sun dry it quickly. It smolders with a dark plume of smoke and it burns for a long time. As you travel through the country you can see the plumes of cow shit fires.
Once while traveling I suffered a minor injury to my foot. I decided to go to a doctor to make sure it wasn't broken. While walking up to the doctor's door I witnessed a bizaare scene. An old woman walked up to a bull from the back. Amazingly she stuck her hand under the large animal's tail and started to tickle his anus. In response to this the bull started to deficate. As soon as he did, the old woman stuck the bucket right there and caught it in her bucket. She then proceded to add water to it. She mixed it up until it was the consistency of paint. Thick brown paint. Then with a crudely made brush , she proceeded to paint the porch of my doctor with this revolting mixture.
Needless to say, I was somewhat astonished and shocked . After all this was the doctor I was going to for help for my foot. I carefully limped over the porch into the doctor's office. In a few minutes he came in to greet me and ushered me into the examining room. As soon as he closed the door, I spoke up.
"Excuse me but do you know what that old woman is doing outside?"
He looked at me quizically for a few moments and then smiled.
"Oh you mean with the bucket?"
I nodded gravely. He laughed.
"You see we have a very different attitude towards these things than you do in the west" He proceeded to explain that the Indians viewed cow feces as an anticeptic. It was very strange to hear. However, he was a very scientific and knowledgable doctor. He assured me that my foot was not broken. He told me to soak it and advised staying off it as much as possible.
"How do you reconcile the different views of Eastern and Western medicine."
He looked at me and smiled. "Sometimes it suits the situation to look at it through western eyes , and sometimes Eastern eyes see better." I left with a new appreciation for many things, however I was still very careful where I stepped as I crossed the porch.
Certain cities in India are considered holy cities. This is because they have a large temple or many temples in them. The temple is the center of both the economic and spiritual life of the city. There is an aura about the entire city. Its as if the entire city is holy because of the presence of the temple. Merely being in the city is to be closer to the spirit. One of these cities is Hyperbad. I stopped there on my motorcycle tour of India. It was a bit out of the way. Not a usual tourist stop. I stopped there because it was a good resting place between the very tip of India and Madras.
After arriving and resting up a bit I walked out of the hotel and was just standing there considering what I wanted to do. It was interesting just to watch the goings on of the street. Thats the thing about India. You can be captivated just sitting and watching the everyday scene on the street. It wasn't 10 minutes after I began my medtations that a man followed by an elepahnt walked by me in front of the hotel.
Nobody took any notice of them but me. I was intrigued and set of after them, at a distance, to see where they were going.
The elephant has a special place in India. It is used as a worker. I would say that an elephant has about the same work capacity as a small tractor. It is common outside the cities to see people using the tremendous strenght of the elephants to clear roads and to haul things. The elephant is also considered a holy animal. This is because there is a God named Ganesh who has the head of an elephant. Ganesh is perhaps the most beloved of the Gods. He loves to eat sweet things. He is big ,awkward-looking, and jolly looking. He wasn't born with an elephant's head. His father Vishnu went off after he was born and didn't return until Ganesh was grown up. He saw his wife with a handsome young man. He didn't realize it was his own son. Assuming the worst he he cut the young man's head off. When the wife told him who it was he promised that he would replace the dead head with a live one from the next animal that passed. That was an elephant. It is enchanting that the Indians often exalt that which is common such as the elephant and the cow. The consequences of such adoration can seem unusual to Westerners.
I followed the pair. They would stop outside each shop. The store owner would come out. The elephant would raise his mighty trunk and tap the head of the shop owner with a touch that was amazingly gentle and graceful. The shop owner having been blessed would give the trainer something and give the elephant something. If it was a fruit shop, the owner would offer some fruit. The elephant would grasp it in the end of his trunk and plop it into his waiting mouth. If it was a juice shop the elephant was given juice. Sometimes it was just a coin, in which case the trainer put it in his pocket.
I followed this delightful spectacle for some 15 minutes. Presently the animal stopped and did what all animals must do. However being an elephant he did it in enormously abundant quantities that came plopping down like gushy watermelons. After 10 seconds of this astounding spectacle he began lumbering on. As soon as he had vacated the target area 10 or 12 children converged on the spot and happily started stomping in the steaming pile. My mouth dropped open and I was confused until I remembered that the elephant was a holy animal. That being the case, even his shit was holy. After about a minutes of this romping, the children scrambled away. My mouth dropped open even further when the adults with great dignity and pleasure slowly walked over to the pile and took of their sandals and squished around in the pile, relishing it the way you would a fine wine or a good book.
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