In Which We Go to the Bank and the Rains Fall

Every month when we pay our housekeeper, her preference is for us to deposit her pay directly into her bank account rather than handing over a stack of money for her to carry home via minibus.  She's just not comfortable hauling around that much cash on her person, and doesn't want to be a tempting target for thieves.

I get that.

So I must include among my daily adult activities (1) VISIT TO THE BANK.

Visiting the bank in Africa is nothing like stopping in at the bank in the US.  Absolutely nothing.  I used to complain at lines at Bank of America - but I was always in and out within twenty minutes.  Oh how quick-paced our lives seem now!  After five minutes I'd be tapping my feet.  Within ten I'd be asking the people sitting behind desks in various portions of the bank (and whose jobs are never immediately obvious) if there was anyone who could help the tellers out, because SOME OF US have places to go.  Things to do.  Panera French Onion Soup in a breadbowl to eat.

Oh Panera, how I miss you.  

Anyway, there's no Panera here.  So I can scratch that off my list.  And with the loss of Panera visits, it is assumed I don't need to get in and out of the bank within twenty minutes, either.  What else could I possibly have to do?

The answer is nothing.  Because I know what the situation is and made the bank the only thing on my afternoon list.

My housekeeper has her account at Standard Chartered Bank, a South African institution that has been described as "simply the best." It has also been accused of laundering money for Iran.    None of this is really that important to me, however.  I just want to find a place that reliably has couscous and tahini in stock and enough time to get there before the store closes.

As I have said, what is important to me at this moment is time.  And Standard Chartered has a pledge to its customers about that:

FAIL

We walked into the bank just after lunch and balked when we saw the line of people stretched all the way across the room.  The line appeared deceptively shorter than it was in reality, because several people - sick of waiting - had told the person behind them that they were not leaving the line but merely sitting down until their turns came up.

There were two tellers working and four people walking around behind the desks.  Eventually, after we had been in line forty minutes, another teller opened up.  

It would be frustrating except that such a situation is pretty much par for the course here.  

And also, there's no French Onion soup - so what do I really have to look forward to anyway?  

I would have like to find out about that whole donation to charity thing - like, how do I know they're giving a dollar for making me stand in line for an hour?  What about the nine people ahead of me and the six behind me?  Not a mention was made to us of the purported donations our time in line supposedly earned.  

But today was not a total loss!  For one, we had a braai.  Those always make me very happy.  And our housekeeper made us two days worth of nshima, which meant my kids were healthily full rather than cranky and snacking on chips... errrr, crisps.  She really does love it when they run in and shriek, "Nshima!  YAY!"

And today as we were leaving to pick the kids up from school the skies opened up and vomited forth water with some impressive fireworks to boot.  I texted a local friend of mine, "Is this how the rainy season starts?"  

She replied, "Oh girl, it is on now!"  

So I think that humidity frizzed hair season is now here to stay.  

More Compound Shopping

I have returned safely from my trip to the States, and despite the lack of fettucine alfredo with blackened shrimp here (that was four or five meals while I was gone, and I loved each and every one), I was glad to get back.

My days back in Africa have been quite interesting, to say the least.  There was the cold I came down with from 24 hours of recirculated air in flight time (not counting the layovers).  Sinus infections are lovely, aren't they?  Then there was the crazy man who rushed our car the day after I returned.  I've taken to driving with my dog in the back, and as soon as she started her, "I'm crazier than my 35 pound body looks!" routine, Mr. Crazy backed right away.

This particular gentleman is well known around two local intersections, and mine is not the first car he has rushed.  And when I say crazy, I mean that he is genuinely mentally ill.  Very sad, but also potentially quite scary.

Today I went to buy more furniture at my favorite furniture store - Supa Furniture.

I had a picture from the internet of what I wanted, and I knew I wanted it in mukwa.  After about forty-five minutes of much gesticulation and discussion in Nyanja, a price was quoted to me.

My eyebrows shot up, and a general laugh was had by the seven people crowded into the small cement block room used as an office/storeroom/hangout.  Incidentally, I think there were two people there who were actually involved in the furniture process - everyone else was just kind of...  there.  And everyone there was a part of the discussion, too, which makes for a rather raucous negotiation.

I was able to talk the proprietor down a little, but he waxed on quit eloquently about the price of the wood and the cost of labor.  Finally I said, "I know you're quoting me the Mzungu price, and that's okay.  But I don't want to pay THAT MUCH Mzungu price."

Once again the room erupted in laughter, and the price was brought down further to something I was quite happy to pay.

And they promised delivery.

All-in-all, a productive way to spend an hour.  And no crazy people rushing my car, either.

And finally - I missed nshima.  This is the national food here, everyone eats it.  A lot of Zambians will say they just don't feel full if they haven't had nshima.

Our housekeeper started making nshima several afternoons a week for my very physically active children, and it's been a minor food miracle.  She's an excellent cook, as far as this goes, and there are rarely leftovers.  The kids never complain about being hungry before dinner, and it's so much healthier than the snacks they usually reach for, while also being far more filling than an apple or some fruit.  I mean, celery with peanut butter is great (if you can find celery), but kids who are very physically active need more oomph in their diet.  Nshima works great for that.

I'm going to have to learn how to make it before we go back home!