Holy Mother of Menses.
Few situations demand or deserve an OMG but Oh My God do parents never get less embarassing. You just never get used to that sort of thing. There she is, Mom, after I've just come out of the bathroom, dad standing a few feet away from her- back turned and chopping vegetables. Mom stares at me for a good few seconds before she sums up the courage to say what she meant to say.
Mom: "As you know, our plumbing is not the best one."
Me: "Yes?" (loooong pause and staring)
"So you might want to be careful about what you flush down the toilet." (she glances nervously at dad's back, during another long pause.)
"Yes?"
"If you are using a tampon, please wrap it up and throw it in the bin. I'm not saying you have, but I have, and I don't think you should."
"Right. I don't even have the menses. I'm not going to have the menses until after we leave."
"You can flush down SNOT paper, TOILET paper, or if you do the numbers ONE or TWO, but not TAMPONS." she says, emphasising the words she thinks will magically kickstart the monthly flow ahead of time.
"Mom."
"And don't throw pads."
"Right."
Dad's back remained turned during the whole conversation, but I could tell he was silently agreeing and happy that the message had been passed on. Despite the fact that mom has put up notices in both the upstairs and downstairs bathroom, saying "Girls ONLY! Please do not flush your tampons. We have had to call the plumber TWICE. Wrap them up in toilet paper and throw them in the BIN."
The fact that it was mom herself who had done this twice was not mentioned.
One thing that you do get used to in Trinidad, however, is the heckling that I've mentioned before. As a woman who is not exceptionally ugly, you get comments on your skin, your eyes, your lips, people hiss "Famileeee" after you, which, apprantly, is not a reference to the relationship you have walking with you, but a come-on. I'm not sure how, but it is.
Being heckled as a man is an entirely different thing. Andreas was relatively traumatized by two sixteen year old school girls who called after him as we passed the corner where they were waiting for taxis.
"Come back nuh. We waiting here for you to talk to we!"
Oh the brazen hussies.
Andreas wasn't planning on doing anything of the sorts, but speeded up instead. On the way back, we had to pass the same corner again. We stood on top of the hill peering down unto the corner to check if they were still there, which they were.
And opted for an extra ten minute walk in the 36 degree noon sun to avoid being "complimented" again. I laughed all the way home. So did everyone else when I told them, which is as close as Trinidadians come to saying "Stupid whitey."
Mom: "As you know, our plumbing is not the best one."
Me: "Yes?" (loooong pause and staring)
"So you might want to be careful about what you flush down the toilet." (she glances nervously at dad's back, during another long pause.)
"Yes?"
"If you are using a tampon, please wrap it up and throw it in the bin. I'm not saying you have, but I have, and I don't think you should."
"Right. I don't even have the menses. I'm not going to have the menses until after we leave."
"You can flush down SNOT paper, TOILET paper, or if you do the numbers ONE or TWO, but not TAMPONS." she says, emphasising the words she thinks will magically kickstart the monthly flow ahead of time.
"Mom."
"And don't throw pads."
"Right."
Dad's back remained turned during the whole conversation, but I could tell he was silently agreeing and happy that the message had been passed on. Despite the fact that mom has put up notices in both the upstairs and downstairs bathroom, saying "Girls ONLY! Please do not flush your tampons. We have had to call the plumber TWICE. Wrap them up in toilet paper and throw them in the BIN."
The fact that it was mom herself who had done this twice was not mentioned.
One thing that you do get used to in Trinidad, however, is the heckling that I've mentioned before. As a woman who is not exceptionally ugly, you get comments on your skin, your eyes, your lips, people hiss "Famileeee" after you, which, apprantly, is not a reference to the relationship you have walking with you, but a come-on. I'm not sure how, but it is.
Being heckled as a man is an entirely different thing. Andreas was relatively traumatized by two sixteen year old school girls who called after him as we passed the corner where they were waiting for taxis.
"Come back nuh. We waiting here for you to talk to we!"
Oh the brazen hussies.
Andreas wasn't planning on doing anything of the sorts, but speeded up instead. On the way back, we had to pass the same corner again. We stood on top of the hill peering down unto the corner to check if they were still there, which they were.
And opted for an extra ten minute walk in the 36 degree noon sun to avoid being "complimented" again. I laughed all the way home. So did everyone else when I told them, which is as close as Trinidadians come to saying "Stupid whitey."
