There are no toilet seats in Madagascar. Toilets do exist, although only the rich can afford the luxury, because a working toilet requires a level of infrastructure and organization that is almost impossible to assemble without quite a lot of cash on hand. One needs to have running water, which in itself is only achievable in major cities like Fort Dauphin (about half the population of Newton). One needs to assemble people capable of putting together a toilet, which is made somewhat easier by the extreme adaptability of the Malagasy handyman. Since replacing anything factory-made is usually close to impossible, the average Malagache can repair just about anything with determination and a screwdriver. Having a toilet, however, also requires you to successfully import all the various parts of a functioning toilet, which is in fact a project of its own thanks to corrupt officials and the complete lack of roads or delivery systems. That isna’t although; there is also the problem of the complete uselessness of the Ariary in national market. 2000 Ariary, approximately one US dollar, can’t be used for purchases overseas. A would be purchaser of toilets has to contact the National Bank in Tana, where they retain all the foreign currency which comes into the country. Extensive So, once people have gone to the enormous trouble of importing pipes and basins and tanks, they cannot be bothered to then go out and try to buy a toilet seat too. It’s just too expensive. Even should they for some reason want one badly enough to go through the trouble, Madagascar apparently usually is only capable of buying bargain toilet seats from China, and they are often only good for a few uses before you are in need of another one. And should fortune conspire and you manage to import a toilet seat which is fully functional and can be fit onto your toilet… don’t expect it to remain long. This national inability to obtain toilet seats has made them so valuable, that they aren’t likely to remain in place long.
Of course, for most Malagasy toilets are unnecessary anyway. Those with more moderate incomes have latrines, a hole in the ground with two planks on either side for bracing your feet on. For everybody else, streets, yards, and the beach serve well enough. Open defecation is a serious problem ere, ironically because of cultural taboos involving cleanliness. Culturally, rural Malagasy consider feces the most disgusting of all things, and so raise reasonable objections to spending precious resources to building a structure beside their homes just to stockpile it. Attempts to convince villages that smelly communal latrines were cleaner than letting nature take care of business had been met with strong resistance, until the advent of community organixed sanitation. Instead of spending money building latrines or educating villagers on germs, faciltators ask “leading questions” which gradually point out to villagers just how much of their neighbors excrement is making its way into their cooking water. They then let peer pressure do the rest. Already, the local NGO Azagady has had an incredible success rate with it, but they don’t work here in the city, so we’re careful where we step. Myself, I’m lucky enough to live in an upper class home, where we have a toilet (no lid) which flushes about 8 times in 10. It’s a real luxury.
