No, not a typo!
For a couple of million years, doing one’s business has been the result of an awkward design fault. On day 6, a bloke called God created animals and us. With a world population of 2, and a diet of forbidden fruit, Mr Whippy and his antisocial chums were probably not an issue. Several eons later, there are few more of us. Stir a few chillies and other fun stuff into the mix and God’s day of rest looks more and more like he got on the piss on Saturday night without finalising his design! Samuel Pepys’ messy encounter with his neighbours’ turds revealed a few unpleasant realities. Anyone who has experienced that squidgy feeling between the toes on the beach has been treated to a more modern example.
Fortunately for most of us in the modern world we have a flush and forget system as an add on to our water bills. Sink and shower stuff happily disappear at the pull of a plug. Nastier stuff heads in the same direction via the porcelain U-bend. Problem solved. Living in a motorhome generally has a similar solution. Sink and shower stuff drains into a smelly tank underneath somewhere. Bits and bobs from the small room go straight into a cassette thingy that lives underneath the poor excuse for a dunny. A measure of chemicals keep the niff to a minimum and off you go. We have a self in-forced ban on numbers greater than 1 in close confinement but off roading or any vigorous movement is likely to result in an unfortunate reappearance of fluids. Not recommended!
That brings us to Aires. A legal and sanitary means of dumping waste rather than a larger scale version of taking a shit in the bush. Park the bus over the concrete/drain area signposted Agua Gris, locate the big handle at the back, give it a sharp yank and step swiftly away. The result is a smelly racehorse on steroids as up to 100 litres of fluids that have been quietly festering in 30 degree heat for a few days meet fresh air. Yummy! Emptying the contents of the under khazi cassette into the same open drain is unlikely to make new friends. Agua Negra has its own special spot for emptying. You know its getting a bit full when the toilet paper tickles your arse if you sit down. The cassette thingy lives inside a locked door for some reason. Can’t really imagine these being on the list of things to pinch amongst the local yobs! A few days worth of Number ones is surprisingly hefty. Lug it over to the disposal point, unscrew the cap and off you go. Pressing the anti vacuum button speeds up the process but leaves little margin for error. Feedback in this matter is universally negative! Rinse, shake and repeat a couple of times then find a hose for washing feet!
Job done for another few days!