End of the World (Or the Hand of God)

I feel as though the universe is ending. I have the nagging feeling that the very fabric of the universe is being ripped apart. My dad attributes it to the mystic air of this city, claims that people who experienced these feelings used them to get closer to God. I feel as though nothing can ever be normal again, as though, really, something is very much off. I cannot explain this feeling. I walk around in a haze. Nothing feels right. The calls of the minarets are constant, the dusty homes and unpaved roads, populated by strange people and animals, surround me, bury me in. I feel as though I am drugged, and this experience feels incredibly psychedelic. 

I woke up at 3:00 AM tonight. As I checked the time and looked around to find an empty home, I immediately realized my host family had very much not brought me to the mosque, as promised. When Issa came home five minutes later, he explained that the rains had been too violent and that I could not have come. The rains had in fact been extream, like a hurricane in intensity but completely unannounced, with none of the pomp and melodrama of a storm in America. They came, wrecked their havoc, turned the sandy roads to murky rivers, shook the city, and left. I went back to sleep, confused and hurt. When I woke up, I found the house asleep. It would be till 1:00 in the afternoon before everyone would wake up. I asked one of the interns for the plans for today, and he responded that the plans were for yesterday and that they had had to cancel because of the rain. This was bizarre, as he had most definitely told me it was today. I was unable to access my AP scores, and there is no telling when I will be able to do so. This only adds to the stress, the frustration. I stayed home all day, reading Howard Zinn, going on my phone, listening to music. The chapters I read in A People's History were exceptional and very, very interesting. I also watched a Bollywood telenovela dubbed in French. That too was what I would classify as a very psychedelic experience. I went to the beach, but after dodging the fish guts and soccer balls became too tiring, I headed back. On my way back I saw something that frustrated me incredibly. I saw an open sewer, spewing its dark contents into the waters. Since there was no way to go from one side of the beach to the other without touching the foul waters, people just walked in it. However, this was not too uncommon. Dakar is a wretched hellhole, home to incredible horrors. This was nothing too crazy. However, what really angered me was seeing a soccer feild right next to the sewer. One of the goals was right next to the sewage. That means that over the course of the game, the ball must have gone in the waters at lease a dozen times. This idiotic disregard for hygiene bothered me. I understand that these people aren't as privileged as I am. This I understand perfectly. But to see them so callously throw away any reason was very confusing.
So I end today confused. Nothing makes sense. I do not know how I will be when I come back home.