Once again exaggerating, as you might suspect considering the fact that you didnt hear about any major hurricanes hitting the mozambican coastline. Although I exaggerate the technical class of the storm, let me just tell you, I have now had two running from the chapa to my house in a terrential downpour experiences.
All in all I love the rain. Not even because I am an Oregonian and it rains there about 9 months our of the year so I better like the rain or I would be semi-suicidal. Really, its because I can put buckets outside, catch the rain, and thus not have to carry water or send students to do it for me. Ca-tching! Free water.
However, rain has a time and a place. And unpaved roads are not the place.
The first incident, I was coming home from Maputo, was barely surviving the most uncomfortable chapa ride of my life (which is quite an accomplishment), and was a bit preoccupied with my melting frozen chicken – not a good choice to buy in Maputo before a 5+ hour wait +ride, but it is like 50 meticais cheaper in Shoprite then in my town.
And I am honestly so poor that my only choices are to carry melting chicken long distances or live a meatless existence.
So there we are, about ten minutes from my house, on a still unpaved road, and the downpour hits. Great. Little white girls stop. Grab your big bag, little purse, and soggy chicken, climb over the goat, step on the grandma, and hop out of the bus into the big, fat, rushing, dirty water. Thanks.
I hit the dirt and ran. As I bounded into my house, dirty, dripping and generally befuddled, my roommate simply looked up and broke out an a great big laugh. Big drippy white girl with her chicken.
Second incident, today, Xai-Xai, REDES conference, coming back to the hotel (about 10k from the city, on the beach), the quasi-hurricane commenced. Like to the point that the taxi (yes, I learned this weekend that there are actual taxis in Xai-Xai), stopped multiple times, hazard lights flashing, because of low or should I no visibility.
No problem, although the driver kept rolling down my window like half way leaving my dodging driblets. And then the dirt road to the hotel was flooded and the cab couldn't continue. Through an exorbitant amount of money at the little old taxi man, and ran. Arriving dirty, dripping, and with my clothes inappropriately plastered to my body. Sexy.
All in all, lesson learned: carry rubber boots and a wader suit with you at all times. Although I suppose that unfortunately isn't super realistic.
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