water or paper?

I often wonder: how much would the world environment benefit if everyone used water to clean themselves after urinating/defecating, rather than toilet paper?

I have wondered this ever since moving to India in 2007, which was my first exposure to the wet and wild world of water-wiping. (Sorry, couldn't help myself.) Perhaps some of you have never even heard of this - you may have been completely unaware that for countless millions of people, toilet paper plays no role in their life whatsoever. I myself was barely aware of this when I went to India, and my first bathroom experience was a true eye-opener: bleary and jet-lagged in the Chennai airport, I nervously abandoned my suitcase and nipped into the public toilet. After locking myself in the stall, I looked around: a ceramic rectangle inlaid in the linoleum floor, with ridged treads for my feet, and a long oval hole in the middle. A small tap, about a foot off the floor, and a small plastic bucket sitting next to it. What was this strange apparatus, and why did it bear so little resemblance to what I would've called a toilet at home? I squatted, managed to dip the end of my scarf in the toilet (ugh), and completely ignored the tap and bucket, having no idea what to do with them.

Soon enough I learned - through some matter-of-fact tips from my new Indian acquaintances, and a bit of trial and error - how to use water rather than paper, and at long last I came to prefer it (at least in hot climates). How does one accomplish this "alternative" toilet exercise? Simply fill the bucket (or other receptacle provided) with water, and using your right hand to hold the bucket, splash water on your bits and pieces. Use your left hand to do a bit of extra cleaning, if it seems necessary. This is why - in India - it is considered insult of the highest order to shake hands, eat, present money, etc., with your left hand. Of course you wash your hands afterward, but it is strictly left hand toilet, right hand food.

After mastering this ritual, I found it a fresher, cleaner, and certainly less wasteful alternative to toilet paper. I make my disclaimer about hot climates because in a cold climate, that extra water can be a bit chilly, or take longer to evaporate - and nobody wants to walk around with a wet crotch, regardless of how fresh it may feel. (Perhaps those with more skill and accuracy in the splashing department will argue with me here.)

But back to my question. What if we all switched to water? How much waste would be prevented? Consider the stages of production in toilet paper: the materials used in the creation of the paper itself; the chemical- and energy-consumptive process of making paper; the plastic packaging for the paper; the dyes and perfumes used to make more luxurious toilet papers; the costs of transporting all of these products; the marketing and publicity and advertising that goes into convincing a consumer that Charmin is superior to all other toilet papers... And then post-flush, what happens? The toilet paper is washed out to sea in a hideous mass of sewage. While t.p. is probably one of the more biodegradable items we dump into the ocean, it's certainly making more of an impact than a few cups of fresh water.

I'm not going to advocate that everyone to switch to water; I realize that water is not for everyone. I still use a blend, myself, and have a roll of toilet paper as well as my trusty 700mL blue plastic water pitcher sitting next to my toilet, but I knew Westerners who had lived in India for years and still carried emergency toilet paper with them in their pocket at all times. It's hard to relinquish the feathery caress of triple-ply, printed with fluffy pink bunnies and subtly perfumed. I understand. But what about Botswana?

Here in the village, I think people tend to use an assortment of newspaper, toilet paper (but it's pricey!) and leaves; there's a particularly soft and friendly bush known as bluboos* (blue bush) in Afrikaans, which is more colloquially known as "Bushman toilet paper." I've sampled its superior t.p. qualities, and it richly deserves its title; as an experienced and experimental bush-defecator, I can easily rank bluboos in my top three bush t.p.'s. It is certainly a revelation in the Kalahari, which tends to be full of vicious thorns rather than soft, tender leaves. Yet when living in the village, there can't be enough bluboos to go around, and I imagine the leaves don't keep well - if gathered in advance, they must quickly dry and become brittle and useless.

So perhaps the revolution is waiting to arrive - perhaps the people of D'Kar are ready for the Good News of water. Could this be my calling as a volunteer? Improved hygiene and comfort for all, including the over-taxed environment... or horrid backfiring and a fearsome cholera outbreak? I wonder if it's possible to apply for a grant to spread the word, perhaps from the WHO. Water must be superior to old newspapers...

Just kidding (I mean, water IS superior to old newspapers, but my mission in life is probably not revolutionizing the world's toilet rituals)...


* I find it very funny that the Afrikaans word "rooiboos" has attained such a dreamy, beautiful, neo-hippie aura in North America; it's AFRICAN tea, it's so cool, what a cool name! But it's really just "red bush" in Afrikaans, which is possibly the least dreamy and romantic language in the world. (Sorry, Afrikaans.)