Sounds like a marine toilet. Paper is put in a liitle bin but never flushed. A thoroughly unpleasant solution.

But this seems the proper time to tell the tale of the blocked pipe in my childhood home. Dad tried and tried to plunge and chemically unblock it but nothing...so he went down into the basement and disconnected the pipe amid %$#@&&^)(#%%&. You get the picture. He was angry. Well in his anger and frustration he grabbed a stick and pushed it deep into the blockage which of course let loose and gushed over poor Dad. He was covered with shit head to foot. My brother nearly choked to death trying not to laugh. Dad, in his usually calm manner said "If you F**kin' laugh, I'll kill you" then stormed up the stairs yelling an odd assortment of curses I had never heard before.

This is where the story gets funny. We were Roman Catholic and were trained to respect nuns and priests. As Dad got the top of the stairs, there stood my cousin, Sister Eileen (or Michael, I forget)in full nun's habit. Dad, dripping fecal matter, stopped, did a lttle bow and said "Good morning Sister" She too nearly choked to death trying not to laugh.

I wonder if someone had put chicken bones down the toilet?