Of Farting

The above activity is called gassing in some East African country. And they say that everybody, including you and I, does it. It is not a bad thing to do when you are alone but it might be a real bad thing to do when somebody comes around, or when you are surrounded by other people besides yourself.

Have you ever had too much pressure somewhere in your bowels that the only reasonable thing to do was to release some, and not in form of solids or liquids as you probably think, but gases? It happens after great lunches and dinners, but also empty ones. You do not believe that a hungry man can fart? I have personally experienced this, being a member of those that lose their appetites at the mere taste of candy and to be truthful, there isn't a fart worse than a grown hungry man's one. And just when you get the right moment and say to yourself, 'O, thank God. Free at last. Free at last' and you let go, guess what happens? That girl that you've been eyeing for some time now pops in and the only conversation that you can start is about how the city council needs to mend broken sewers because you can smell the sewer right from your office. And out of embarrassment you can't tell her what you think of her because no matter how you try you know she knows something not about broken sewers, but may be a broken ass-hole.

Worse still, you report a little early to the lecture room and you receive the same feeling and knowing everybody's time-keeping habits, you let go, and just before the dust can settle, or rather mid-stroke, your professor comes in a little earlier than you expected? Then you can't hide the embarrassment and you start being jovial and talking about how you might have underestimated your lunch?

Well, I had reported a little early for that Phonetics lecture when I noticed, or rather felt that if I tried, whether hard or not so hard, I would fart. I could not blame my bowels for I had punished them myself by taking more spaghetti than my stomach could stomach. I looked at my watch and it said some ten minutes before time. I locked the door because being Class President I had the privilege to carry the key. I let out a long low sigh that was accompanied by a long low stinking fart. This gave me a relieving sensation in my bowels and an equally stinking one in my nostrils. Now, depending on your fart and level of ventilation, the stink may go away from just a few seconds to several minutes. My level of fart that day was a five-star in that level that scatologists and biologists may place it.

I was looking around to make sure that every window that might have needed opening was opened and before I could say 'open' there was a knock on the door. I panicked. Who the hell could that have been? I thought to myself. A second knock was accompanied by my professor's voice asking himself why I hadn't reported and yet he knew me to report a lot earlier than that. I had to get a way out. I feigned sleep and I told myself that I would wake up only when the time was right. I heard the professor shuffle through his pockets and I knew he was getting out his phone to call me. I immediately reached for mine and switched it off. He, being in the manner of thinking aloud, called me a name to the effect of a fool, which was not surprising for all professors think that they studied all books and no one did after them. He muttered something else and his steps retreated and I knew he had gone to sit somewhere in the college grounds.

When I thought it was safe enough to do it, I opened the door and guess what I found? He had stopped in his tracks to think aloud again and when he heard the door open he looked back and stared at me, with his mouth still open in the shape of the last word he had called me.

'Sir, I’m so sorry but I had a little nap and . . .'

'Never mind what you had. Is our toilet broken? I was out there knocking and I almost suffocated.'