Most international organisations simply visit your office restroom before they consider giving you a job. It is an unspoken rule that your restroom space must be spick and span. I have seen many brilliant individuals miss out on a job or even a relationship because of the state of their bathrooms. But fair is fair—too many of our city centres do not consider this all-important service.
In Lokoja, at a famous bus stop called Natako, there is a thriving restroom business where you pay for the service. It’s amazing to watch. It’s not fancy or anything, but there is water, and it pretty much gives some relief. It used to be fifty naira, with a guy holding the tissue roll, so it’s a turnkey project: water, tissue, and service. I have often wondered how much it costs now. Someone is making a tidy sum daily, providing a much-needed service. And it is clean and well-kept.
In most city centres, this service is not commercialised in the public domain, and therefore, it’s not well-maintained. Those with responsibility treat it like another government property, looking the other way while it’s neglected and no longer fit for purpose. Perhaps this is a thought for the business side of water and sanitation, as always espoused by the founder of the World Toilet Summit, who believes that if well addressed, the toilet business can, in fact, be a thriving enterprise.
Be that as it may, one of my greatest concerns has always been walking into a public restroom—whether it’s in an office, a hotel, or an aeroplane—and finding the door unclipped. Why, for goodness’ sake, would you not lock the door? Who wants to witness your business? I don’t know if it’s just me, but we humans typically knock and try the door if no one answers. Sorry, sir or ma’am, that door was meant to be clipped as soon as you sat, stooped, or whatever it is you do when you do your business.
Anyhow, that’s one of my greatest concerns. The second one is what happens when you walk into a restroom used by someone who doesn’t care to maintain the cleanliness of the space as they found it. Is it the smell? Or the water all over the place? Sir or ma’am, were you in a bullfight there? It’s tragic! It is a simple courtesy to clean up after yourself when using a public restroom. I cannot count the many times I have flown and, mid-air, had to run back to my seat holding my nose. This typically happens aboard a fully booked aircraft, and mind you, it’s not every time one flies business class.
Even then, you have no idea how hard it is to exit those restrooms, trying so hard to scrub the smell off your hands and sniffing your newest perfume to keep things at bay. Airports are not any better these days, and those cleaning them, paid by governments and consortiums, especially in Nigeria, think you owe them. “Madam, how was your flight? Hope the family is well? I am greeting you, ma’am.” Please wipe that silly smirk off your face. We are on our knees in this country—it is sad.
I run an annual summer writing workshop for kids between the ages of 7 and 14. Only recently, some of the kids came back to say those with toilet responsibilities were soliciting. Oh my God! From children. Merde!
Restrooms are meant to be clean, fresh, and airy! Anything short of that is not acceptable. Over and out! And while we’re at it… please shut the door properly and clip it. No one is interested in your business. Thank you very much.
I like a truly bespoke restroom, with air fresheners and diffusers to give the space that welcoming aroma. I like to flip through magazines where I can gain knowledge while at ease. I like a restroom with clean, fresh hand towels and a basket to drop them in when done—not just any type of basket, but a find from Rwanda or the Arts and Crafts Village. I like toilet paper that isn’t as hard as newspaper—soft to the touch, even if it isn’t luxurious. I appreciate the aroma of a nice hand-wash and a stash of books by the corner. I like toilet tiles that are well-apportioned and colour-coordinated. Perhaps that’s why I now love tiling bathrooms and restrooms for friends and family. But that’s a story for another day.
I like a friendly shank and a nice, cute washbasin. I do love nice restrooms, and everyone should.
