Sense to come in out of the rain (by Jennings)

Last Tuesday I was at the office, about a 5-minute walk from our house. I was ready to go home, but it had started raining. When I stepped out on the office veranda to check things out, Alphonse, the gardener, said, "No, it's raining hard, you can't leave." So I went back inside and waited a few minutes. Then... I got impatient. I had important things to do at home, I couldn't just hang around waiting for the weather to improve! (Harumph!)

So, when the rain let up a bit, I set out. After all, I had an umbrella with me, and I was wearing my trusty old Birks that I don't mind getting muddy. (Westerners who let their shoes get muddy... another mystery to Congolese people.) Alphonse let me leave, but he himself stayed in the shelter of the veranda.

The road back to our house is a very busy one, usually full of motorcycle taxis, pedestrians and cars. The first thing I noticed, after almost slipping in the mud right outside the office gate, was that there was practically no traffic. A few cars, but no motorcycles or pedestrians. Zero.

This is the kind of classic situation in which you as a foreigner recognize that you're doing something weird in your host culture: you're the only idiot pedestrian walking in the rain.

I passed kiosk after kiosk that was either closed up or full of people huddled inside, patiently waiting for the rain to stop. I waved and smiled, embarrassed. They smiled and waved back, looking (I thought) rather amused. Typical stubborn, "no-thanks-I-can-do-it-myself" Westerner. Doesn't even have the sense to come in out of the rain.