In 1957, my parents went traveling. So we went to my material grandparent's farm to live for six months.

I don't know when it was built, but it had no running water, no bathroom or toilet, no electricity, and kitchen had a woodburning AGA stove. The last time I was there was in 1979 to attend my grandmother's funeral.

Actually, no, the last time I was there was about 18 months ago, just before I left South Africa for the last time. My sister and I took a memory trip to go and see what remained.

The streets are gone. The house torn down. There are still some graves, and, try as we might, we couldn't quite figure out where it had all been.

We drove until around until we found a small African village - maybe 8 or 10 houses. An old man remembered my grandmother. He had worked for her as a boy.

The floor of the home was mud with lenoleum to cover it. Outside the kitchen stood a rain tank to catch water to drink. At night, kerosene lamps were built. The walls were crooked, put together with homemade bricks, and some sort of plaster over it.

The outhouse stood at the back. Once, there was a big row because there was a snake 'down there.'

When we went to the shops, it was one general dealer down the road. We went there by pony trap. Neither my grandfather nor my grandmother ever owned a car. He died in 1969, I think.

So, yes, from mixing with the very rich and the very poor, I know what an outhouse is! :)