I replaced the shower, but currently my host father is in the bathroom, after returning from a funeral and climbing in the window behind the house, chipping away at what is left of the doorknob because the door just won’t open. I like my host mother and sister’s response to our failed efforts at the same–stuff your pockets with menstrual pads, climb back out the window, go to the store, buy snacks, and wait for dad to come home and do exactly the same things we tried. I should mention that climbing in the back window involves tripping around in the dark and climbing over two piled rock walls that are held together only by gravity and the vines that have grown over the stones. I’m convinced someone is going to twist an ankle before we are able to urinate comfortably in our own home again. Or, there will be significantly less privacy until the next Emart run.
Update: the latter. Convenient door knob sized peep-hole.