I awoke to a steady patter on the roof. The rain which
had interrupted my thoughts at ten o'clock the previous evening had not yet
ceased to fall. Oh, to stay in bed and forget about riding in the rain! But my
clock blinked 6:15, time to get up and hurriedly prepare for the day.
Ready to brave the elements, I asked for the key to the
back door.
"You don't have it?" Brianna had managed to
misplace our means of escape...
again. We are gaining quite the reputation here :)
Thankful for a means of communication at times like these, we texted for help.
A fellow SM (Student Missionary) forfeited some of his
precious breakfast time to come and rescue us "damsels in distress."
I aimed to make it to school clean and somewhat dry.
About 20 yards down the road, I dismissed that ideal entirely. I arrived at
school, feeling like a not-so-spectacular spectacle. The front of my pants
looked as if I'd just pulled them from the washing machine and dragged them
through a sandbox. Red clay mud and rainwater dripped down my legs like drops
of blood. I was grateful for an outdoor water tap and a dry skirt buried in my
damp backpack.
Working at washing the grit off my legs, I glanced up as
two Tanzanian teachers arrived on foot, their tan trousers entirely
spot-free...
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