A year or two ago, I found myself bedded down for the night in an Ethiopian whorehouse. This was in Bahar Dar, a town in the northwest of the country, on the shore of Lake Tana -- the source of the Blue Nile.

We were a party of eight traveling around the northern Ethiopian highlands, and the source of the Blue Nile was to be a highlight of the trip. Unfortunately, by the time we hit town all the respectable hotel rooms had been taken, so we ended up in a cheap brothel. As the night wore on, a lot of moaning and groaning came from the room next door. That alone was not unusual for this sort of accommodation, but I knew the people who were making these noises -- and these noises weren't the sounds of frantic, sweaty sex.

I'd drawn the short straw and had ended up in the room next to the over-ripe squat toilet. On my own. It was our third or fourth day in the country, and a few of the guys had come down with the shits. Interestingly, the racket of the jets of butt water shooting all over that little toilet after sphincter breaking-points were reached didn't always match the pitch of the moaning from the culprit. Short, fairly quiet grunts could lead to a firehose going off, while prolonged groans of agony were often followed by disappointing squirts. All efforts were rounded off with lots of wiping, cursing, a few tears, then the sloshing of clothing being rinsed in the sink outside.

We took a boat out into the lake the next morning. It was very murky and shallow, with a lot of fishermen in canoes dodging the farting hippos who were wading around, rooting in the vegetation for tasty morsels. Fish eagles soared above and a few stomachs rumbled on board, but most people had recovered from the night before and were ready for the long drive further north. There was to be a four-day stop in Debark for some trekking, around nine thousand feet up in the Simien mountains.

Accommodation was fine if a bit basic: eight-by-ten rooms in a little row, with two small beds each. There was a western toilet next to a shower at one end, and a squat toilet at the other, beside a small bar.

The bar served basic food and locally-brewed draught beer. The staple in Ethiopia is a sort of bread called injera. It's quite yeasty with the look, color, and texture of grey carpet underlay. Around eighteen inches in diameter, it serves as bread, plate, and utensils in one. Small heaps of spicy vegetables and meats are poured on to the injera; you then break off bits of the injera with your fingers, scoop up the meat and veg, and eat. An acquired taste for sure, as was the deceptively strong, yeasty, cloudy beer. I loved it, and ate and drank my fill.

A visit to the squatter for a piss was the first hint at what this combination of food and drink was playing at in my guts. As I let flow, a fart started. It was not loud or explosive, but it just kept on going and going for the full length of the piss. A strange sensation -- it was as if the bread and beer had started to combine and increase in volume like dough does when it's kept warm. The release of piss must have been like punching down the dough and letting it deflate. Didn't smell too great, either.

More beer was taken on board, and when the electricity failed, we went to bed.

I got up early next morning with a strong urge to shit. No one was in the western toilet, so in I went. There was a small floater left to greet me, but it was a fine morning and a rogue turd was not going to upset me. An army quick-marched out of my ass in orderly fashion, albeit in a disturbingly large quantity. At least twice the volume of what I'd eaten and drunk yesterday was now lying in fairly neat rows and layers of three- to four-inch logs, mostly below (but some just above) the water surface. The stench was fearsome.

Flushing failed, as the water had run out. I gently opened the door hoping for a sneaky exit, but was met by one of the prettier girls clearly dying to use the trashed facility. I tried to dissuade her but she ran in; and I could do no more but head off for some breakfast.

A little later into the trek, I was told by the others that I was banned from the western toilet. "The needs of the many" and crap like that.

For the next couple of days I enjoyed using the squatter; as long as you make sure that your tackle is pointed down at all times, it's much more effective than the normal bowl. A more natural position for shitting, and if your aim is accurate the whole lot disappears down the hole for good, never to be seen or worried about again. The reek of these strange new turds got no better, however. But since I was pretty much the only one using the toilet, I wasn't bothered.

The final day we left early, taking breakfast with us. I like to take my dump just after breakfast, but I had no opportunity that morning. After driving along the escarpment for a while (the land below was a good 2,500 feet down), we started our day's walk. The scenery was spectacular: volcanic mountain plugs, eagles, ravens, and small mountain deer. The harvest was in and the stubble of the crops turned the landscape a golden brown. And then there were the baboons -- hundreds of them roaming around the cliff tops.

After a picnic lunch looking down over the villages far below, I decided to take a dump while we were still stopped. Going back down the way we'd come, I saw a couple of haystacks and went behind, out of sight from the others. I scraped out a small hole and squatted down to unload. As the first of the troops emerged from my butt, a dozen or so baboons sidled up in front of me.

They must have followed me to see what I was up to. They gathered in a group about ten yards off and just stared at the white man taking a shit.

I've never had an audience before, especially not such an intimidating and worrying one. A large fellow started playing with his cock not fifteen feet away, jerking off in my general direction. I'm sure they were just curious, but I was shit scared. I finished my business as quickly and calmly as I could. Then walked slowly back to the others.

My bowels continued producing tremendous shits for the rest of the trip, even a day or so after I got home. Ethiopia is fantastically beautiful, especially the highlands covering the northern two-thirds of the country. The people may be very poor, but they have great dignity and hospitality. The children are probably the friendliest in the world. Many of the women are stunningly beautiful. And you'll never have such spectacular shits anywhere else. I thoroughly recommend going.