Black Clouds

Monday is cleaning day. Well, usually. The last two weeks have been too busy for me to devote a whole day to cleaning. So, I am embarrassed to admit that my apartment is a little dirty right now. But, I decided this morning that I would rectify the situation and clean the whole place today. Before leaving the house, I conducted an inventory count of my cleaning supplies and made mental notes of what to buy at the store on my way home.

After meeting a friend for lunch in town, I boarded the overflowing ‘Mwenge-Posta’ dalla-dalla and wondered how the cars managed to see the road with all the standing puddles. It rained a bit this morning, and the roads just don’t drain when it rains. Anyway, I got off the dalla at Shopper’s Plaza, a grocery store near my house and bought bleach, three scrubbing pads, and an all-purpose cleaner. I looked all over the store for a new broom but had no luck. So, I walked to the next grocery store, Shoprite, and found a broom.

So, new broom and cleaning supplies in hand, I walked across the wet road and waited for a dalla to come by. Although the stop nearest my house is only about a half-mile away from Shoprite, I decided to take the dalla because it is only 200 shillings (about 18 cents) and I had my hands full. After waiting a while, though, no dalla came, so I decided to walk. Now, the entire time I had been walking up to this point, I was in puddles about a foot deep. But, with my ever-useful shoes, the almighty Chacos, this was no problem.

After walking about 30 yards, I came to an impasse. There were two puddles I could have traversed. I randomly chose to go to the right. Now, any wise person would have taken the broom handle, lowered it into the puddle, and ascertained the depth of said puddle. But, I’m not wise.

I began with the right foot. And then the right knee followed, then my waist, chest and head…. Before I knew it, I was completely swimming in this puddle. This would be the funniest part of the story had I been able to immediately get out of the puddle. But, no. I could not get out of this particularly hostile puddle. I probably waded in the puddle a good 2 minutes before I found a non-slippery edge. And after finding the one non-slippery edge, I managed to hoist one leg onto it….and then I fell back in the puddle.

I finally managed to get out of this cursed puddle. Once I did, I was met with good-natured laughter from everyone standing and/or driving nearby. Embarrassed, I decided to take a taxi home. Remember how I mentioned that the taxi drivers harass me? Well, apparently, being soaked is the one thing that fends them off. Two taxis refused me. So, I began to walk home. Crazy white girl, soaked, carrying a broom down the street… Imagine the spectacle. Everyone I passed laughed and said, ‘Ohhh, pole’. (This means sorry).

It was an adventure. The entire way home, I kept glancing at the sky looking for the black cloud that has been following me. Seriously, who falls in a five-foot puddle the day after they fall down ten wet concrete steps?

I’m a spaz. Bruise count—8.