Small conflict here, a bigger one there. War starts there and ends up bigger here. The usual human way to unleash the big world war. We all know it. It’s what everyone expects by now. But that’s not our story. Nor is it about the global supply chains collapsing, making it hard to find simple and essential items. Like, really? Why did we think it was a good idea to source salad ingredients from 14 different countries? Oh yeah, the peak of civilization we just experienced when people got upset because the guy at the salad bar restaurant ran out of chia seeds to add to their Keto Salad. Nope, that’s not our story either.

Our story is about Daniel, a typical pragmatic engineer who left his hometown to live the luxurious life of an expat in one of the petrol-filled countries in the Middle East. Something a newly graduated young man could not dream of back in his hometown. Little did he know, the real adventure wasn’t navigating a new culture or adapting to a new climate; it was surviving the shortage of toilet papers in a paperless culture. Because, apparently, in the grand scheme of life’s luxuries, nothing says ‘you’ve made it’ quite like not having to resort to using your engineering degree to calculate the optimal number of napkins as a toilet paper substitute.

One day, as Daniel visited the last grocery store of the day, he had no idea his life was about to change forever. He walked into a small, dark store, the aisles lit by flickering fluorescent lights. He noticed loud voices coming from the last aisle. He knew this aisle well—it was where the kitchen paper, tissues, and, of course, toilet paper were kept. His heart raced as he rushed toward it. Could it be? Would he finally stop using the dry kitchen paper?

He made the last turn and saw a group of people pushing each other, grabbing toilet paper in a messy frenzy. Some were leaving successfully while the rest continued to push and shove. Daniel jumped in aimlessly and started to sneak through the crowd. He stretched his hands further and further, blindly reaching until he finally felt the plastic wrap of a toilet paper pack. He pushed to the right and left, finding an opening. He could now see it—a jumbo pack of Ultra Soft, 4-ply, quilted for maximum comfort. It was the kind of toilet paper that whispered sweet nothings to your bumbum, a luxury in these desperate times.

He grabbed and pulled with all his might. Just as he felt the joy of success, he noticed another hand grabbing the exact pack. Those hands belonged to Salwa, a beautiful young Arab woman with the typical large Arab eyes. She had the look of a yoga instructor who had just returned from California, exuding an air of superiority and a desire for everyone to know she was a yogi, clearly better than the rest of us mere mortals.

Daniel and Salwa’s eyes locked over the prized item. Both eyes screamed with anger mixed with surprise and disappointment. Both tried to hide their emotions. “I saw it first,” Daniel said, his voice steady but his heart racing. He had planned his entrance, timed his steps, and navigated the aisles like a pro shopper. He deserved this pack.

“Ah, but I need it more,” Salwa said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She was good at thinking on her feet and coming up with creative solutions, but even she couldn’t solve this problem easily.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Need it more? Is your skin more delicate than everyone else’s?”

Salwa. “No, but you can always use water, as all of us do.”

Daniel looked surprised. “Water? I’m not Muslim, and I don’t know how to use it. You clearly are, so why don’t you?”

Salwa smiled slyly. “This toilet paper is for our next camping and meditation retreat trip where there is no water. Clearly, I need it more.”

Daniel sensed he might lose, especially since he didn’t know anything about this water method, nor was it an option for him before.

Their standoff quickly turned into a playful contest as they tried to decide who deserved the last pack more.

“How about a trivia contest?” Daniel suggested, trying to buy some time.

“Fine by me,” Salwa agreed. “First question: What’s the capital of Burkina Faso?”

Daniel blinked. “Uh…Ouagadougou?”

Salwa nodded, impressed. “Okay, smarty-pants. Your turn.”

“Alright,” Daniel said, thinking. “Name three types of pasta that aren’t spaghetti.”

“Penne, fusilli, and farfalle,” Salwa rattled off.

“Clearly, you’re a pasta specialist,” Daniel grinned. “That’s 1-1, you need 2 out of 3.” He paused, thinking of a question that would surely stump her. “Alright, next question: What is the average tensile strength of a single sheet of 4-ply toilet paper?”

Salwa looked momentarily lost, trying to think. Daniel smirked, taking the opportunity to admire her beautiful eyes. For the first time, he realized how attractive she was and that, since he arrived in this country, he hadn’t spoken to any local girls. Will his emotions make him soft, or will he fight till the end for his clean behind?

Just as Daniel’s confidence peaked, Salwa hit him with the right answer. “Around 20 Newtons per meter.”

Daniel’s hand softened on the pack. He realized he was losing. Salwa, proud of herself, softened as well and smiled at him in a flirty way. She enjoyed this game and even more enjoyed that she was winning. She found Daniel interesting. “How about we split the pack?” she suggested.

Something about Daniel’s pride urged him to say no, but at the same time, he needed the toilet paper. Now, he had a new goal: how to get this woman’s number. His brain started working at the speed of Fugaku, the fastest computer in the world, trying to make his next move without being cheesy. He feel rusted. While his hands just left the pack, suddenly someone snatched it and started running.

Daniel and Salwa, surprised and trying to process what just happened, looked at each other in shock. Without thinking, Daniel rushed after the guy who had just stolen the pack. The thief rushed past the cashier and ran into the street. Daniel followed him without a second thought of stopping.

Into the streets, Daniel ran behind the fast-moving shadow of a man who seemed equally desperate. Daniel didn’t fully understand why he was running. He just realized that he didn’t need the toilet paper anymore. He remembered that at in this country he just moved to, there is something the locals call a “Shataf,” a device to clean their valuable behind using water. Daniel ran, surprised at how he never thought of this simple solution before. His mind had been conditioned to rely on toilet paper, the capitalist trick of spending money on useless items. This realization stung, especially for a proud engineer who prided himself on finding solutions.

So why was he running then? Daniel wanted to go back to Salwa triumphant, holding the toilet paper above his head and presenting it to her as a gift. Just as Messi held the World Cup as a gift to the whole nation of Argentina, Daniel envisioned himself heroically returning. But is it okay to also wear the “Bisht” that Messi was wearing? Where could he buy one? Why didn’t he know much about the culture where he worked? Maybe Salwa could help him. But is she a Muslim, and can she marry a non-Muslim like himself? Daniel wondered, “Maybe I need to convert to Islam then.”

Daniel kept running after the thief, picking up speed. He was more determined than ever.