slight chance of an afternoon shower

We were off on a bit of an adventure. Exploring the streets of Kaolack in search of one of the many tucked away tailors so my friend Meg could get some outrageous clothes that she found in the market tailored back to normalcy. There were a few drops of water falling from a small, yet ominous rain cloud, but blue skies were still overhead, so we chose to press on. We were barely two blocks down from our house when we happened across a nice little gathering of little old men, sipping on some Senegalese tea, attaya. We decided to make our trek a little bit easier and ask for directions. The request ended in the little men pointing in every which direction - There is one over there. No, no not there, over that way. No there is not one there. It is around the corner. No, no I think it is across the street. Eventually, we got some accurate advice from a little old lady who hobbled over and knew what was up. Should have started with her. As we headed around the corner, she brought us to an unmarked compound, where a few guys were just standing around, decked to the nines in multicolored fabrics. At this point the rain was starting the threaten us with a shower. After a rapid-fire exchange in Wolof, it was concluded that he was not here, and we would have to wait. He is coming, he is coming. This is an exceedingly common response here. Now the rain was really starting to come down, in big, juicy drops, and we were hurried into a millet machine room where there was a bench awaiting us. We chatted for a few minutes, and then one of the guys came into to give us some news - the tailor wouldn't be back til 5pm. It being noon, be decided to be on our way. As we ventured on down the street, the rain started to slacken slightly, and when we turned around we could actually see the down pour, just a few steps back. As we laughed about how we had missed the rain, it started to turn back towards us, and we tucked under a little canopy where some women and their children we selling roasted corn (delicious, by the way). After some consultations, it was decided that we just had to go one block further to reach our destination. As we stepped out from the canopy, we continued down the now muddy road, with little streams of yellowish water following in our footsteps (ew). Little boys were chasing down the trickles, and a moto whizzed past, as we approached the tailors. Then, out off nowhere, the skies opened up on us. we barely made it through the doorway, as the water came crashing down from overhead. The moto driver and his passenger quickly pulled up alongside the building to seek refuge, and two teenage girls, bowls stacked on their heads, piled with goods to sell, tucked in as well. And there we were - all thrown together to escape the downpour. As me and Meg giggled over the direction that our morning had taken, a troupe of little boys gathered under the roof spigots across the street, water streaming down, all splashing, possibly showering, like a little Senegalese water park. It was definitely one of those moments when you wish that you always had a camera with you. Talk about a Kodak moment. Meg launched into negotiations with the tailor, and I quickly discovered that the moto driver sitting next to me spoke Serere, and we launched into a lengthy discussion - mostly about me. What languages I speak, where I live, if I'm married, if I want to be, if I'll teach him English; standard conversation material for Senegal. The rain slowly subsides, and Meg wraps up her negotiations. We depart the tailors, and walk out into what can only be described as a river of yellowish, sludge puddles. A challenge for the walk home. We yank off our flip flops, and start the precarious hop-scotch back to the road.   Just another one of those days in Senegal, you never know where it will take you.