A former acquaintance of mine from Hunter College in New York fell in love with India, moved there, wedded a native, and had a son with him. After ten years or so of marriage, things fell apart between them. I've heard that she's having a hard time gaining custody of her son, and spends her energy traveling between Germany and India to earn money, and to see her son.
She always was a hard worker.
I heard two weeks ago from a friend and reader, MV, that she was horrified when first arriving in New Delhi at the men who relieve themselves where ever they happen to be standing.
I couldn't believe that the poop situation could be any worse anywhere than the dog poop scourge in The Netherlands, but it is, alas.
I discussed the poop and the course of her marriage with my kids. They like to talk and hear about things. The next day, we were en route to swimming class--by bike--when my five-year-old daughter, sitting behind me in her bike seat, asked, "You know your old friend... What happened... Why aren't they together anymore..."
"Well, sometimes people just stop getting along, and it's better to split up."
"I think that the boy is with his papa, and the girls are with the mama." She was concerned that the girls might be stuck with a man.
"They only have one son, and he's with the papa."
"Why?"
"That's the way it is in some countries. The man gets the child. She's doing her best to get him back with her."
After a moment of silence, this revelation: "Maybe she decided she didn't like him anymore when she found out he pooped on the sidewalk."
"Wow! Good thinking! That's a very good answer!" I had to congratulate her for solving this conundrum, and for lifting my mood with her childlike brilliance.
Children are such graceful, generous souls. My children in particular, of course.
Funnily enough, the next day I was listening to a Swedish news podcast, and guess what the feature story was? Ha, ha! Yes, you guessed it. It was all about men pooping on the sidewalks in Delhi, the public health crisis it's created, and possible solutions. Toilets from Africa, I think. (My Swedish still isn't good enough to get everything.)
I must say, I hope and pray that my acquaintance is close to gaining custody of her son, and that they can settle into a nice, spacious apartment in Berlin together.
One last note, European cities might be littered with dog feces, but I guess it could always be worse.
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