Bathing -- a drop in the bucket

Some people say the cup is half full. Some say the cup is half empty. A Peace Corps volunteer says, "I can take a bath in that."
This joke relates to one of the main topics for this installment, that most infamous of Cameroonian amenities: the bucket bath.
What's a bucket bath, you ask? Simple. You have a little water in a bucket. Now take a bath with it.
Many of our host families have showers, but even so, many of us prefer bucket baths because it's the only way you can wash with water that's not cold.
Some of my fellow Peace Corps trainees, however, find bucket baths challenging. I really don't see what the problem is. I estimate that it can always be done with less than a gallon of water, certainly less than two.
Washing hair
No one here is at such a loss for water that they can't get that amount routinely. All you do is get wet, rub some soap on and pour cupfuls of water over yourself until the soap comes off. If you're washing your hair, the quickest way is to dip your head right into the bucket, once to wet it and once to rinse.
You hold your head over the bucket long enough to catch the run-off, because otherwise you may run out of water before you finish rinsing your body.
I suppose that bending over to dip one's head upside down into a bucket is no easy feat for the elderly trainees, but it's the young ones who are the most bewildered by bucket baths.
And even if you can't bend over to dunk your head, you can scoop water over it with your cup and catch the excess into the bucket. During all of this, you are allowed to get water on the floor. The bathroom floor has a drain because the entire bathroom acts as a shower stall. Or, if you have time (think weekends), you can clear your bedroom floor and take a bath in your room so you're not holding up the bathroom, and then use the spilled water to mop the floor.
The floors are smooth concrete, and that's how they are normally cleaned anyway; you dump some water on the floor, scrub a little and then use a squeegee to push all the water out the door.
The only time I have bothered to clean my bedroom floor was after doing my laundry in my room (in a bucket). The only reason I did laundry in my room that day was to snub and escape my "aunt," who criticized my scrubbing technique.
My so-called aunt is my host aunt -- the sister of my host mother. The word host is almost always dropped here, to make the Cameroonians believe that we feel right at home with them.
Latrine
Another bathroom structure that's on everyone's mind is the pit latrine. Probably half of us have them.
There's this huge hole dug in the ground, with a little cement stall built over it, and in the floor is a hole the size of a saucer.
The hole usually has a cover, presumably so you don't step in it and break a leg. (Imagine having to face the doctor who would mend your leg after you stuck it down a latrine.)
So you squat and aim for the hole, and because people's aim is not always perfect, some latrines are roofless to let rain in.
One elderly trainee had to switch homesteads because his original one had a latrine, and a bad knee prevented him from squatting. (By the way, men urinate anywhere outdoors that they please.)
Initiation
My host family has a toilet, and my first latrine experience came when the training director deliberately issued me a challenge. He was within earshot when I was attempting to ask (in French) for directions to the bathroom at a new training facility.
He had someone direct me to the latrines out back, with a gleam in his eyes and a comment something like, "Now you can see how our bathrooms compare to American bathrooms." I later learned that the building also has an indoor flush toilet.
There was nothing rude or unreasonable, nothing ungentlemanly, about this form of initiation. Naturally, I had to rise to the occasion, beat him at his game.
Accepting latrines without complaining is part of "cultural sensitivity," integration and all. I returned from the back of the building just as gracious and cheerful as anyone has probably ever seen me.