and during my anxious wait he doesnât make an appearance again and I finally drop off.
The shower is an awful place. It is a square yellow fibre-glass shower bottom sitting straight on the floor with the drain-hole with no grate over it stuck to a white PVC pipe, where a lot of light shines through into the shower in the daytime. There is no shower curtain and nowhere to hang one. The water goes everywhere, on the floor, up the walls, everywhere, no matter how hard you try to keep it in the shower base. The only way to keep my clean clothes and towel dry is to tie them in a plastic bag to the door handle. I wear my thongs in the shower so that when I step out my feet donât get dirty again on the floor, and so I donât get tinea because the old bat always told me that you get tinea from other peopleâs showers. But the worst part of the shower is that things live underneath it in the dark recesses that go up both sides and around the back as there is no tiling to block it off. So far Iâve encountered cockroaches and green tree frogs and one of them is enormous. The shower is at its most terrifying when I wash my hair and my eyes are closed because I think something is going to jump on me. Iâve had a few heart-stopping moments when Iâve opened my eyes and the frogs have been sitting there looking at me but so far theyâve kept to themselves. Iâm surprised they come out at all because the soap and shampoo must irritate their skin but they must like sitting under the cold water like I do when Iâm hot and in a bad mood. I made the mistake of leaving my soap and shampoo in the shower once, only to come backand find it all gone. I knew mummy wasnât the culprit because she told me that she has never used soap in her life and she doesnât intend to start, because it makes her sweat. She only uses water to wash with like our mob has been doing for thousands of years. She doesnât smell or anything but it still seems a bit strange and Iâm so used to using soap that I couldnât imagine my life without it. Every night when I have my shower I wash my dirty clothes from the day as well and hang them out on a rope tied between two veranda posts. I wash my sheets and towels and tea towels every Saturday morning. Although previously I looked for every reason to avoid doing the washing, until I had to because Iâd run out of underwear or something, I like the routine of doing it every day now. It seems to give my day some structure.
Iâve used one of my sarongs to make a curtain for the toilet and I have threatened everyone not to remove it or theyâll have to deal with me. Mummy thinks itâs a waste of a perfectly good sarong but I donât want anyone outside to see me using the loo so for me itâs worth the sacrifice. My thigh muscles are getting used to hovering over the toilet and not sitting on it in case there are germs, there were a few times when they nearly gave way from the strain but Iâm mastering it now. There is also no seat and for some reason that makes the toilet seem even germier. Dunny paper is another contentious issue around here, we all supply ourown and take it back to our rooms when we are finished otherwise there are huge fights over whoâs used it all up. Iâve told mummy she can share mine but sheâs never asked for it so maybe she doesnât use dunny paper either. And the dunny paper is one-ply, like sandpaper, not soft and pliable like Iâm used to, so I use it sparingly or risk taking layers of skin off with it. The store manager must think blackfellas have arses made of stone or something. When Iâve finished in the toilet I tie up the sarong so the toilet can air. Iâve promised myself Iâll get some bleach to put down it to kill the algal forest when I eventually go to the shop, which I have avoided because it looks scary with the hordes of black people hanging around it. Although
The shower is an awful place. It is a square yellow fibre-glass shower bottom sitting straight on the floor with the drain-hole with no grate over it stuck to a white PVC pipe, where a lot of light shines through into the shower in the daytime. There is no shower curtain and nowhere to hang one. The water goes everywhere, on the floor, up the walls, everywhere, no matter how hard you try to keep it in the shower base. The only way to keep my clean clothes and towel dry is to tie them in a plastic bag to the door handle. I wear my thongs in the shower so that when I step out my feet donât get dirty again on the floor, and so I donât get tinea because the old bat always told me that you get tinea from other peopleâs showers. But the worst part of the shower is that things live underneath it in the dark recesses that go up both sides and around the back as there is no tiling to block it off. So far Iâve encountered cockroaches and green tree frogs and one of them is enormous. The shower is at its most terrifying when I wash my hair and my eyes are closed because I think something is going to jump on me. Iâve had a few heart-stopping moments when Iâve opened my eyes and the frogs have been sitting there looking at me but so far theyâve kept to themselves. Iâm surprised they come out at all because the soap and shampoo must irritate their skin but they must like sitting under the cold water like I do when Iâm hot and in a bad mood. I made the mistake of leaving my soap and shampoo in the shower once, only to come backand find it all gone. I knew mummy wasnât the culprit because she told me that she has never used soap in her life and she doesnât intend to start, because it makes her sweat. She only uses water to wash with like our mob has been doing for thousands of years. She doesnât smell or anything but it still seems a bit strange and Iâm so used to using soap that I couldnât imagine my life without it. Every night when I have my shower I wash my dirty clothes from the day as well and hang them out on a rope tied between two veranda posts. I wash my sheets and towels and tea towels every Saturday morning. Although previously I looked for every reason to avoid doing the washing, until I had to because Iâd run out of underwear or something, I like the routine of doing it every day now. It seems to give my day some structure.
Iâve used one of my sarongs to make a curtain for the toilet and I have threatened everyone not to remove it or theyâll have to deal with me. Mummy thinks itâs a waste of a perfectly good sarong but I donât want anyone outside to see me using the loo so for me itâs worth the sacrifice. My thigh muscles are getting used to hovering over the toilet and not sitting on it in case there are germs, there were a few times when they nearly gave way from the strain but Iâm mastering it now. There is also no seat and for some reason that makes the toilet seem even germier. Dunny paper is another contentious issue around here, we all supply ourown and take it back to our rooms when we are finished otherwise there are huge fights over whoâs used it all up. Iâve told mummy she can share mine but sheâs never asked for it so maybe she doesnât use dunny paper either. And the dunny paper is one-ply, like sandpaper, not soft and pliable like Iâm used to, so I use it sparingly or risk taking layers of skin off with it. The store manager must think blackfellas have arses made of stone or something. When Iâve finished in the toilet I tie up the sarong so the toilet can air. Iâve promised myself Iâll get some bleach to put down it to kill the algal forest when I eventually go to the shop, which I have avoided because it looks scary with the hordes of black people hanging around it. Although
Similar Books
