October 4th, 2014 was a rainy Saturday morning, and a day that would go down in personal infamy. In true fasion, we were running late. The Global March for Elephants and Rhinos was our first big event in Kenya, and we had strict instructions to be on time.

We were living in a place called Kibera, and the yet to be paved dirt roads were quick to become mud roads in the rain. Being the clumsy person I am, I strapped on my tennis shoes and hoped for the best. After a rushed breakfast, we were off. The protest was going to be a six mile march, and we were walking to it. We were literally walking to a walk. The group I was with consisted of, a group of children that we had been tutoring in Kibera, the person in charge of them, two elders from the bush who were going to be speaking at the protest,my cousin, our two Kenyan brothers from other mothers, and me.

I woke up that morning with a feeling in my gut that I couldn’t shake. Being a gold medalist in the falling down olympics, I just knew that day was going to be the day that I fell somehow somewhere. Little did I know how tragic it would be.

Knowing the feeling of impending doom I was choosing my steps very carefully. We decided to take a bit of a short cut, and I was down to clown. I thought maybe the short cut would be a little easier to walk on than the main road. Boy, was I wrong. The new way was a million times muddier than the main road, and I was reminded of my gut feeling at every step. I cleared the muddy alley way only to be faced with the challenge that would lead to my demise.

I stood at the edge of life as I knew it trying to map out how I was going to hop over a gap in the road, avoid a “puddle” to the right of me, and not slip in mud on the other side. The group obviously didn’t wake up with the same gut feeling as me as they had mastered the challenge and continued to walk way ahead of me. Clumsiness seems to run in the family. My cousin had fallen a few days before playing soccer with the kids, so I figured she’d understand if I needed her to wait up. I told my cousin to put the breaks on for a minute, and started my journey across. As soon as she turned around to see why I needed her to wait, it happened. Something went completely wrong on my mission and suddenly it was man down. At first I laughed at myself thinking I had just fallen in an innocent puddle. However, I realized that puddles, while muddy, are usually pretty shallow. I was belly button deep in something, and then I caught a whiff.

Everyone knew what I was in except for me and my cousin. Everyone who lived in that part of Kibera was looking at me in awe. Even a pack of stray dogs stopped what they were doing to look at me in disbelief. Once I was on the same page as everyone else as to what I was in I looked at my cousin to inform her.

“This is poop.”I had fallen in an open sewer over flowing with real human shit.

She turned white as a ghost and looked away in shame. I got out of there fast as lighting. I’m talking so fast that I don’t even remember how I got out of there. In all honesty, I think my brain repressed it immediately in an effort to keep me from losing my breakfast. No one said anything, and all I said was “we gotta go back to the house.” I walked back to the house with my entourage, covered in shame and raw sewage. Children were laughing at me, and I had no option but to look at them and say “yeah, I did it. I really went for it okay?“

We got back to the house and I didn’t know where to start. My cousin was throwing soap at me and asking me what clothes I wanted to wear. I told her that I didn’t care as long as they weren’t covered in feces. I showered for roughly a year and a half, and then it truly sank in.

I fell in real human shit.

I swam in feces.

I’m going to die.

I started crying, because my life was for sure over. My cousin started crying because she couldn’t believe that she was about to witness my last day of life. Our Kenyan brother from another plead with us “please don’t cry!” I told him I just needed a minute to cry a little bit because I fell in shit.

I gathered my composure, supressed my gag reflex, and then we were off (again) to go protest to save the elephants and rhinos. When we got to the protest, late, we were questioned as to why our arrival was so delayed. I had to look a grown man, who I had just met a few days beforehand, and inform him that I fell right into an open sewer. He laughed at me, which is the only logical response, but I had an important question.

“Hey, man…am I, uh, gonna die?”

“Do you have any open wounds?”

“I don’t think so…”

“You’re fine.”

Once we were assured that I was probably going to continue living the whole thing became really funny. Theres a picture of my cousin and I at the protest where she’s saying something to me, and I know exactly what she’s saying.

“Hey, man, you fell in poop.”

To this day people still ask about the white lady who fell in the sewer, and I’d just like to say thank you to my loyal fans. Upon returning to Kibera I was informed that the sewer has since been covered, and I’d like to take a little bit of credit for that. My swim in the sewer has been deemed as a Kenyan baptism.

My advice to anyone who has read this story is, trust no puddle. You will be betrayed.

October 4th, 2014. Never forget.