Shaka Zulu's Revenge: A Diarrhea Story

Past that fence is my bathroom

1.      Warning: This is a diarrhea story, if you get grossed out easily beware of the words that are about to follow.

Many who have traveled through Central America particularly Mexico have heard of Montezuma’s Revenge. Legend goes that once the Spanish finished decimating the Aztec population and empire, the spirit of Montezuma placed a terrible curse on the land. Whenever any person of European descent, any gringo, any person who had grown up drinking purified water drank Mexican water, they would suffer the wrath of Montezuma’s Revenge. Montezuma would cast on you the worst diarrhea you have had in your life. If he deemed that your ancestors had been particularly cruel while conquering his home land he might even send you the curse of bloody diarrhea. Word comes that there is no curse and that gringos coming into Mexico would simply suffer from the poor quality of water there. But many swear that in the depths of their diarrhea attacks, as their bowels were spilling out into the toilet and their life essence leaking out of them in the form of brown water, Montezuma actually spoke to them and cussed them out for having killed his people. Skeptics claim these visions arise from the fever that sometimes strikes but I for one, after having suffering Shaka Zulu’s revenge, support the theory that these bouts of diarrhea are the great kings of old cursing people of European descent for having ancestors who conquered, maimed, and raped without impunity. But enough negativity, let’s move onto my tangle with the great African king Shaka Zulu.

I was in Rundu for the weekend enjoying internet and all the modern amenities of an African town. I was busy checking out new music in the Peace Corps office when at 5 o’clock I began to feel a bit sick and felt that a fever was coming in. I took a small nap but didn’t feel better. I left the office with Giovanni, the volunteer gracious enough to host me for the night. I took some pain relievers when I got to his place and I started feeling better so I decided to join Gio and Akino, the Japanese volunteer that was also working in Rundu in enjoying a few beers. I was feeling fine when I went to bed. I believe it was around four in the morning when the great Zulu decided to stab me with his curse. I woke up suddenly with my stomach cramping and burning. I ran the quick 5 steps to the bathroom dropped down onto the toilet and exploded. I’ll spare most of the details but what came out of me could only be compared to an Amazonian torrential downpour, an Indian monsoon, or a Miami hurricane. I exploded and it felt that my entire supply of water went shooting out of me at the speed of a geyser. I groaned and clutched at my stomach and waited for the cascade to finish. Once that was done I went back to bed. I woke up again at 6. Same thing happened although rather than a torrential downpour it was more of a heavy summer rain. Between 6 and 10 I went to the bathroom 8 times. I took the anti diarrheal pills and prayed to Mr. Shaka Zulu for mercy as I had to make my way back to site that day.

Clemency was bestowed onto me, I had no accidents on the way back to Shamangorwa although my stomach felt as it was being stabbed from the inside the entire way back. I arrived at home around 6, fell asleep at 6:30 and only woke up the next morning at 7. I only had to wake up once to go out into the bush and pay my respects to the African King. Still I felt incredibly weak and was not able to eat anything. I tried drinking water but even that felt difficult. I think of myself as a pretty tough badass m**********r and hate to miss my responsibilities so I go to school that day. Luckily I was not teaching but I had to sit in class monitoring exams. Exams start at 8:00 and go until 12:30. I took the anti diarrheal before class and hoped that it would carry me over till the end of the day. It was not to be. Starting around 9:30 my stomach began to feel worse than it had been feeling when I started the day. Rumblings started and I began to squirm in my chair. I started popping a weaker form of anti diarrheal pills but that would only give me relief for half an hour at a time. Finally at 11:00 I was in so much pain and I was sweating so much in the front of class that I decided it could not be helped I had to go pay my dues again. I ran outside yelled for another teacher to come watch my class and waddled over behind the school to the Field Where We All Poop. I knew that any sudden movements would cause my Hoover Dam to break and cause a catastrophic accident in front of the entire school. I make it out to the bush, walk out about 5 minutes and pick a bush with a lot of cover, squat, and thank god for the sweet release and relief.

At this point I did not have any food left in my body and I was dangerously dehydrated, urinating had become painful and the pain in my stomach was not going away. I relieved myself four more times and the last time I saw a bit of blood in my stool. At that point I called the PC medical office and informed them of my situation and asked what I should do. They told me that if things got worse I should hustle on over to Rundu and see a doctor. Two hours after I called I went again and this time it was not just a bit of blood but enough to give me a serious fright. The stool was clearly mostly blood. I began to make the preparations to go into town but there seemed to be no rides available  for the next day. I had to relieve myself two more times but this time they were pitch black, it seemed like Shaka Zulu had turned me into an octopus and was forcing me to release ink from my butt. Strangely, that scared me more than the bloody diarrhea. The next morning I walked with one of my counterparts to the tar road, the 7 km walk, under the 9:30 sun which in the summer here is already very hot. Luckily one guy picked us up and drove us around 3 of the 7 km walk. We got to the road and I collapsed under a tree while my counterpart stood by the road and tried to get a car. It only took us about 15 minutes but we got a pickup truck and loaded up in the back. I popped several more diarrheal pills to prevent any accidents. I stretched out against my backpack and laid down on the back of the truck and took myself to a beach somewhere and pretended that the wind and the sun meant that I was safe on some tropical location.

I slept the entire way but woke up very sun burnt. I got to town, went to the office, took another nap on the couch, and then went to see the doctor. Strangely my stomach was starting to feel better. The doctor gave me a plethora of drugs and several packets of rehydration salts which she told me I desperately needed to take. I stayed again at Gio’s place and survived the night and the next few days. I now sit in front of my laptop having survived Shaka Zulu’s Revenge and hope that he took enough out of me so that whenever my family visits he won’t have to exact his revenge on them. Shaka Zulu I kneel before you contrite, fearful, and several pounds lighter and hope your thirst for revenge has been quenched and please spare me your wrath in the coming two years.