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.