Live and die in an African toilet

This article is pointless. But so is life for many people.

I’m taking a shit now as I write this. I’m in my office building, where I have spent the last three days, working, eating, sleeping and working.

The only other times I get breaks are when I go for my daily run, or when I take a shit. I’m taking that shit, and it feels very African.

Did I tell you I was African? Living in Africa, and experiencing life as an African. And when I open the doors to my toilet, I get an African whiff of other Africans who have travelled this same African road, took this same African shit…and moved on with their African life.

But not me. I love this African toilet.

There are no bosses to harangue me for targets and results. No colleagues to demand from my time, neither are there humans, who walk about with no aim other than…walking about.

Here in this toilet, this glorious receiver of human waste, I am alone, I am free, and all my worries pass through me, and into the great pits that connect to this bowl.

I could stay here forever. I could die for this. I want to wake up like this, and exist in this space forever.

Because when it all comes down to it, we all want to enjoy ourselves in this life. I’m enjoying myself while taking this shit.

And as long as this makes me happy, I want to live and die in an African toilet.

Nakupenda.