Poop, Goes the Weasel

At a very young age, I realized sooner than later that I wouldn't always get my way. Life has proven consistent in this aspect. The little things, you see. Anyway, the story I am about to tell you is a particularly humiliating one. I trust you, so, you must promise never to tell a soul. This is a story of how my dream of being a shy over-achiever came tumbling down in nursery 3.

When I was younger, I used to attend this "Ivy League" nursery school called Pegasus in Eket, Akwa Ibom state. On this what seems to have been a faithful day, apparently the day before, I had eaten a rather unsavory affang soup. There I was sitting and minding my business, right before break period (recess), my belly began to feel funny. It was difficult to ignore the descension. I remember thinking to myself, I should wait till break period. At this point, I am in so much pain, and farting exceedingly that a skunk would weep.

The poop was already wetting my butt now but I couldn't excuse myself because I was too scared that my teacher would not permit me seeing as class was still in session. Break period came and I was still sitting there knowing fully well we had limited time to play. It was too late, besides, I was rather occupied.

Break period was coming to an end, instead of going to wash up when I had the chance, I sat there. I thought I could man up and wait till after school so I could wash up and go home.

After the break, the next teacher showed and immediately asked one of my classmates to open the windows for ventilation. My paranoid self heard her mutter how the class stunk. All of a sudden, she started yelling, "who mess? who mess? I will smell everybody's bum bum o!" I was quaking in my tiny cortina. I pretended like I didn't hear anything. The thing with me is that I despise embarrassment but it seems embarrassment does not despise me.

I finally summoned courage and went to her, "excuse me, Aunty, may I use the washroom?" Something I should have done since! Now that I think about it, I believe she could smell me but she did not say anything. What a woman. Her name was Mrs. Ita, one of my absolute favorite teachers actually. She used to call me 'Angel' because I was quiet. I guess she did not imagine her angel would commit such a blunder.

When I got to the bathroom, I tried to scrape off the brown stain on my underwear, really attempting redemption. I could hardly see through my foggy eyes as I thought to myself, a whole girl in nursery 3, pooping in her pant. How dare I?

Mrs. Ita had noticed that I was not in class for a while and sent a cleaner (babysitter) after me. In Nigeria, children start school early, I guess maybe that is why we can be very mature and self-dependent.

When the cleaner came to me, she jovially mocked me a bit but helped regardless, "big girl like you, you’re still pooping in your pant." I just needed that brown stain scrubbed off me, her mockery was the least of problems. She took off my uniform, washed my pant, and said I could choose to wear it again or put it in my bag. I did the latter, I was already uncomfortable enough.

I do not know how long my adventure lasted for but when I came out of the bathroom, it was closing time. Father God! Now, I was ready to disappear. In my school, we had designated busses that would transport us to and from school. She informed the bus driver not to leave without me; seeing as my bus was the last bus to leave.

When I got inside the bus, my 'Bus Aunty' (bus supervisor) said, "big girl! You pooped your pant. Hm!" She said this in my native language, Ibibio, in a way that made me want to cry and vomit at the same time. When I got home, I relayed this event to my mom and her whimsical laughter...

In conclusion, the reason I am telling you this story is not only because I trusted that you wouldn't laugh but because I wanted to properly highlight the importance of human empathy or lack thereof. Please let us all endeavor to be each others' Mrs. Ita.