Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire.

I finally got back to my village, ready for a solid week of just hanging out, spending time with my family, and reading until the end of Ramadan, when I will get back to work. Sadly, it was not meant to be.

Apparently, while I was gone, there was a massive rainstorm, and my entire room flooded. My mom and brothers went in there and piled everything on top of my bed, and my mom moved some of the stuff to her room in big rice sacks. If youve ever experienced constant muggy/rainy weather, then you know how quickly things mold. A lot of my books, bags, and clothing literally disintegrated. There was also a large moldy dead thing in the corner that I made my brother remove for me. As I found out last rainy season, Im allergic to the mold, so the rash spreading up both of my arms has pretty much taken over my entire body in the last 24 hours. Luckily, my family is amazing, and they told me to just sit, relax, and deal with it tomorrow. So, since they had taken off my mattress and sheets, and everything I own was piled on my bed, I just slept in my moms room. I would have started cleaning out my hut today, but I had to come into Mbour to get a new phone, which was much easier than I expected! I was also able to find some medicine for the rash, so hopefully that will be taken care of soon.

I do have good news, though! In a random burst of intelligence, I hung up my bag of electronics, checkbook, letters from friends and family, and passport right before leaving my village, so none of it was affected! Also, Pippin is fine, which is way more important to me than all the stuff that got ruined.

Anyways, I thought Id write a quick note on one of the many strange things they do here in Senegal. This morning I had to withdraw money from the bank (where I have been going for the last year and a half, btw)and the woman behind the counter was adamant that the signature in their computer did not match the one I had signed on my check, and thus refused to give me money. The same signature was also on my passport, bank ID card, and the back of the check...ridiculous. So, after I made it crystal clear that I would not be leaving without my money, and was glad to wait all day holding up the line, she gave me a post it note and made me sign it over and over again while I looked at the one in their computer system until it was exactly the same.

When I studied abroad in Switzerland, a similar thing happened. I walked into the post office, and went up to a counter to pay for a package. The teller looked at me like I was crazy, and just pointed to a machine that dispenses numbers for waiting in line, about 50 yards away. She and I were literally the only people in the building. I walked over, got my number, she hit the button to officially call me over, and I went right back to the same counter where she was perfectly friendly and happy to help me.

Yeesh.