When Toilet Paper Runs Out

When Toilet Paper Runs Out

You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day … nor the plague that destroys at midday … For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.  (Psalm 91:5-11 NIV)

All was quiet down the fourth-grade hall after lights out in the girls’ dorm at Kent Academy, Nigeria. However, on that weeknight in the spring of 1969, the four of us in my bedroom were holding a serious whispered conversation.

There’s an uprising going on,” one roommate said from the top bunk.

I sat up and hung my legs over the side of my bed. “What’s an uprising?”

“It’s a war. The Nigerians in the south are fighting with the ones in the north.”

“Are we in danger?” another roommate asked.

“No. None of the fighting is near us, so we’re safe here at KA,” the first girl said.

Joyce spoke up from the lower bunk across the room. “Today I heard two of the dorm uncles talking.” A ray of moonlight streamed through the slit in the curtain and shone on her calm face. “The men were making plans to help everyone leave KA if we need to.”

“That sounds scary,” the girl above me said.

“If we have to run away, where will we go?” My voice wobbled a little.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Joyce said. “The uncles saw me listening and told me not to worry. They said their plan was just a precaution, and we are all safest staying right here.”

“What’s a precaution?” I didn’t feel too comforted.

“The uncles explained that they’re just being very careful.” Joyce’s quiet voice was reassuring. “I think it’s all very interesting, and I’m not frightened one bit.”

Lying back down, I tried to sleep but kept tossing and turning. Finally, I drifted off into a fitful sleep.

#alt=three girls in dresses
Joyce, Maribeth, and me lining up for church on a Sunday morning. Photo credit Maribeth Poole

News from Home

The next morning, we had classes as usual and no one mentioned the uprising. I pushed lingering thoughts of war to the back of my mind and concentrated on my classwork.

But at lunch, my tummy knotted up when I smelled the food on my plate. The Nigerian stew with rice was one of my favorite dishes. However, after the first few bites, I struggled to swallow past the worry that stuck in my throat.

Later, in my bedroom for our daily afternoon rest hour, my tummy settled. Soon the dorm mother walked through the hallway and handed out mail.

“Here’s something for Debbie Jones,” she said with a smile.

“Yay! I got a letter from home!” As I read Mom’s neat handwriting, I could hear her voice as if she were sitting on the bed next to me. “There is fighting in the south, and the war is moving closer to us here at Egbe. But don’t worry about Dad and me.”

My fingers shook as I read that last sentence, and tears brimmed in my eyes. I blinked quickly and pushed on. “We keep a suitcase packed so we can escape into the jungle at a moment’s notice.”

Suddenly, my stomach clenched again, and worried thoughts buzzed like a swarm of bees in my brain. Will my family be safe if they run away? How can they fit all their important things into just one case?

Clutching the letter in one hand, I rolled to my side to face the wall and traced my fingers in circles over the tiny bumps in the cool cement. How would they even manage?

Lying there, I pictured the scene

My parents marched along a narrow, dirt path through the tall brush behind our house. Dad, in his familiar khaki slacks and loose, cotton shirt, clutching a heavy suitcase. Mom, wearing her favorite red tennis shoes and a knee-length skirt scurried behind him. She cradled baby Cindy in her left arm and clung to three-year-old Grant with her right hand.

The Important Things

I sat up in bed and said to my roommates, “Listen to this news! My parents are near the danger and might have to escape.” My voice felt scratchy, so I cleared my throat. “They packed a suitcase and are prepared to run away.”

“Oh, dear!” The girl across from me looked worried.

I took a deep breath. “I’m scared for them. But mostly, I wonder how much they can fit into one suitcase. And what on earth should they pack?”

“I think they should pack lots of undies,” one roommate said.

“Maybe they can take some food,” another girl suggested.

“They’ll need a Bible, of course,” said Joyce.

I leaned back on my pillow and stared at the mattress of the bunk above me. “Well, I really think they should fill it with toilet paper. Otherwise, they won’t be able to go to the bathroom!”

My legs started itching like they usually did when I felt sweaty. Lying back down, I scratched vigorously and thought some more. Mommy could probably fit six rolls in one suitcase. That should last a while.

Silently I said a short prayer. God, please take care of them and give them courage.

“Debbie, I know you’re worried,” Joyce said. “But I believe our families are all going to be okay. I’ll pray for your parents every day.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel better,” I said.

Finally, I had a happy thought. I’m glad my older brother Larry and younger brother Mark are safe here with me.

I settled down to rest. When school is done this afternoon, I’ll look for them on the playground and give them both a big hug.

Looking Back

After Nigeria gained its independence from the British in October 1960, three provinces were formed along tribal lines. However, the Hausa and Fulani in the north, the Yoruba in the southwest, and the Igbo in the southeast struggled to get along because of their many tribal tensions. From July 1967 – January 1970, The Nigerian Civil War, also known as the Biafran War, raged throughout the country. It officially started when the Igbo province in the southeast declared its independence as the Republic of Biafra.

Fortunately, the fighting never reached our village of Egbe, so my family didn’t have to flee into the bush. But several weeks went by at school before I knew for sure they were safe. At the time, I was too young to really understand what was happening or what would really be needed if they had to run.

When I Facetimed with my mom about this memory, she added a crucial detail: “Kent Academy was targeted by Igbos because they wanted to take it over as a sanctuary. I don’t know how the mission board kept them out of the school compound.”

That would have explained the conversation my friend Joyce overheard between the two uncles. If the Igbos had taken over the Kent Academy compound, the staff and students would have had to evacuate. What a scary thought!

Then I asked Mom the all-important question: “What did you have in that suitcase? While at school, I worried that you wouldn’t be able to pack enough toilet paper.”

Her eyes crinkled around the corners as she laughed. “I packed a change of clothes for each of us and a lot of cloth diapers!”

#alt=stacks of loot on the dirt
This is some of the loot stolen from the Igbo’s in the Kano area. Photo credit Conni Syring Townsend

What I Know Now

Even with all the restrictions in place to curb the spread of COVID-19, I’m feeling calm and happy to do my part, because I’ve experienced several critical situations in my lifetime (for example a Lassa fever outbreak, running out of missionary funds mid-term, and getting lost in the jungle). Although each difficulty was different, I’ve learned from the past, and that helps me to cope well in the present.

On March 9, Chris and I flew to Scotland, intending to stay a month. After borders started closing, we returned three weeks early. While there, we heard about the toilet paper shortage so we brought eight rolls back from Scotland. Thankfully, our household is set for the time being and able even to share with neighbors.

Additionally, I’m planning for the possibility our current toilet paper shortage might become even more severe! Not only am I being judicious with my use of that precious commodity, but I’m also saving all our current supply of paper napkins, paper towels, and Kleenex, so they could be put to “essential use” if needed.

In my growing-up years in the tropics, those now-common items weren’t available, so it was normal to do without them. For now, I’ve sequestered them away and replaced them with stacks of clean rags, cloth napkins, and hankies. After a single use, they go into the laundry bucket, and at the end of each week, I’ll disinfect a load. If we happen to run out of TP, voila! We’ll have a stash of alternative household paper products to use instead. (Of course, we won’t flush them.)

Link It to Your Life

Prior to this current pandemic, what was the most fearful event you have lived through? How did you cope at that time? How can you adapt those skills learned then, to the situation we now face?

What new routines or adventures are you adding this week to help you get through, without growing weak from fear, but finding strength in faith?

Father, thank you for all my readers. Each one is incredibly important to me. Please take special care of their families, friends, and communities during this crisis. Amen.

To read more of my background, click here.

My friend, Sara Jane Kehler, shared a post on children, handwashing, and COVID-19 here.

4 thoughts on “When Toilet Paper Runs Out

  1. Our family was in China during the civil war between Mao and the Nationalist Army 1947 – 1949. I was too young to understand or to be afraid. I’m discovering amazing details of God’s timing so our family was kept safe and could travel to safety, first from the North East, Manchuria, and then from the South West, Kunming. I’ll be sharing stories of that on my blog.
    “God is still on the throne, and he will remember his own!”

  2. Incredible to hear some of the things you went through as a child, Debbie! It’s wonderful how through all these critical situations you have learned of God’s faithfulness such that you can now face adversity with calmness and trust in God. And it’s a blessing that you can still gain more information from your mom about those past events, so now you can see it from an adult/more mature vantage point.
    During these Covid-19 times, I find that meditating on Scripture and listening to worship songs helps me sleep sooner/better at nights. I also find joy in encouraging our church members via technology.

  3. What an intriguing story! Very scary! Back in those days, no technology was available to communicate with our families. Only snail mail which took days!! I’ve been scarred by those times. Needing to know NOW is so important to me! If I don’t know when I want to know I have great anxiety. I’d say it was due to no control and no one caring about how I felt…boarding school..

    1. Patty, I understand you completely! The inability to communicate in those days was really tragic. And the boarding school syndrome … I felt that too … having no control over what I did, said, or ate, was so scary. I’ve become obsessed with needing to control everything about my life now.

What do you think? I would love to hear from you!

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