Tuesday morning I walked into the post office. Fabiao is the post master, a good friend.
Me: Good morning Fabiao
Fabiao: Good morning my daughter. I heard you had diarrhea.
No sense in asking how he knew that
Me: Yeah I didn't go to school yesterday.
Fabiao: Did you go to the hospital? Are you taking medication?
Fabiao: Why not?
Me: Because it was something bad I ate.
Fabiao: Why aren't you at home? Where are you going?
Me: Welllll, I'm actually just going to buy bananas and toilet paper and then going home.
Fabiao: (giggling) You use toilet paper???
Me: Yeah, I do.
Fabiao: You should wash yourself instead, my daughter.
Me: Well, in my culture, we use toilet paper.
Fabiao: I tried toilet paper for awhile, then I switched back to washing. You're in Mozambique. You should wash.
Me: I'll stick to the toilet paper, thanks.
Fabiao: My daughter, its easy. You just...
Squats down right there and proceeds into a lenthy demonstration with overly detailed commentary on how one washes himself after a no 2.
Me: Papa! I don't need to know this!
Fabiao: But if you keep using toilet paper, you'll stain all your underwear. Its so easy to miss a spot!
Me: Alrighty! This conversation is over. Bye Papa!
Fabiao: giggling Hope you feel better soon!
never thought I would discuss skid marks in another language