“The unmentionable and the unthinkable”

Press, 27 January 1979, Page 16

“The unmentionable and the unthinkable”

How long is it since you last heard that fine old Anglo-Saxon word “dunny” used in polite conversation? Twenty years? Forty years? But even though fewer and fewer night carts have rumbled along the country’s streets since the turn of the century, a survey last year showed that about 1000 households still use them. Night carts — for those lucky enough never to have used one — are vehicles on which cans of night soil from old-fash-ioned bucket latrines are collected. This was usually done at night — hence the name “night cart” — to spirit the cans away under the decent cover of darkness for secret burial. This process has been described as “the unmentionable collecting the unthinkable.” For a long time, the night cart was an important fixture on the New Zealand scene. Last century, it was considered one of the better of the “unmentionable” alternatives available to cities. In the 1870 s, Dunedin’s medical officer made a plea for all residents of the city to be served by the night cart — and not just half of them. This was not surprising considering the alternatives, and their drawbacks. The “pit privy,” although potentially satisfactory, was usually in poorer areas and used communally (by up to 20 families) which made it pretty unsavoury. The invention ofthe water closet (by Sir Thomas Crapper) was less effective than it should have been because of the unreliable supply of water for it. Those with bucket latrines, but unable to afford the local night cart service, buried their own.

This was not very sanitary when they did, and even less sanitary when they didn’t — which was quite often. Dunedin’s medical officer calculated it would take five or six drays to cover the whole city by night carts, and cost about £2 per houshold per year. In making his pleas, the medical officer gave Christchurch’s night soil collection system as an example. Its service was fortnightly, cost 6d a can, and residents provided their own cans. Each household made its own arrangements with the night-cart driver (he could be persuaded to come more, often if needed) and paid him direct. This direct-payment system seemed to be the answer to good service; if the night man didn’t come,

he didn’t get paid. By the turn of the century the decline of the night cart had already begun, at least in the cities, as more sanitary arrangements such as sewerage systems and septic tanks gradually took over. By 1937, when the Health Department did a survey of night soil disposal in towns and cities with more than 500 people, all the main centres and many small towns had become wholly sewered. Even so, about half the population still relied on the night cart — mostly those in rural areas. At this time, most of the carts were still horsedrawn. The cost to householders varied from £LSO

in Hokitika to £2 in Te Kuiti. The decline steepened dramatically after 1945. A survey in 1972 showed only 8000 people (0.3 per cent of the population) still used the services of the night cart. A survey in 1978 showed this number had dropped to 4000. Even those who talk about “the good old days” are not sorry about the demise of the “dunny.” It was thoroughly objectionable by modern hygiene standards, and not just for those who had to empty them. No houseperson, no matter how extensive their array of disinfectants and cleansers, could altogether eliminate the smell, unsightlyness, and health risk of open cans. Flies thrived around them and spread dirt and disease into nearby houses. It may be funny to think about having to walk down the back of the garden with the newspaper, but in bad weather it was far from tunny. Problems became even worse when the night cart service broke down, or the night man went on holiday. These occasions, often during the hottest period of the year, were probably the misfortunes which gave rise to a popular saying, still current, “to be left holding the can.” Relieving night men could sometimes be found, but it was not a popular job. As they tended to be unfamiliar with the round, and working in the dark, their performance tended to be something of a “hit-or-miss” affair. When the last night cart trundles off into history it will be the occasion for a national celebration.

By

OLIVER RIDDELL