I just casually remembered when my parents used to make us take turns staying with our grandparents in the village during holidays. One time when it was my turn, i was seriously pressed at night, i pooped in a nylon and dropped it at the back of the house. The toilets were outside the house so I was scared to go. Unluckily my grandparents woke up before me and saw it. Of course I denied out of fear. They called a prophet who our neighbors had camped in their house for family prayer. The man came and said that it was poison, and that if either of my grannies had disposed the poop without calling him, their hands would have swollen. He went ahead to do some “prayers” before disposing it. I questioned myself for a very long time but i’m 28 now so i kinda understand.