The Dumb Laowai

“Hi. I’m D.L. and I shit myself.”  “Hi D.L.!”

I’ve heard of a lot of support groups but I had never before even imagined that one such as this might be a realistic undertaking. There are some things we simply do not talk about, ever. Even living in China, where the more realistic question would not be “Have you ever?”, but rather “How many times have you?”, it’s simply not discussed. Until now.

I was recently emboldened by an overheard bar conversation in which one man was discussing in detail some of his more stressful experiences in China, all of which seemed to require immediate laundry services. He was telling my story, practically verbatim. I always knew that I couldn’t be the only one, but I was just too shy to seek out confirmation. 

Bolstered by this newfound feeling of brotherhood, or at least mutual suffering, I’ve begun discreet enquiries. The results have been enlightening. Of course, the universal initial response is one of distaste but after volunteering a story, I’m rewarded with an unbelievable look of relief when they find out that they do not suffer alone. Soiling yourself is just another form of misery; it enjoys company.

Granted, this group will probably never become too proactive. No 12 Step program here because it can’t be helped. There will never be T-shirts or buttons, much less a parade. Come to think of it, it’s probably just as well; given our affliction a parade really isn’t all that practical. We’re just out to relieve the embarrassment of fellow foreigners.

Do your part today. Tell a fellow foreigner about that time on the train. You won’t believe how happy it makes them!