natures first green is gold. her hardest hue to hold. her early leaf’s a flower. but only so an hour. so leaf subsides to leaf. so eden sank to grief. and dawn goes down to day. nothing gold can stay.
I set my alarm that morning for 6:40am. So I turned it off and went back to bed for about 30 minutes. I was gone from post for nearly two weeks and therefore have fallen so far out of my exercise routine that it’s become hard to rouse myself from my cozy bed. It was 7:30 by the time I was hitting the pavement and it didn’t even matter. I ran 3 miles and probably could’ve gone longer, but hey it’s my first day back. In about one month’s time at that same hour, the sun would be so intense that I wouldn’t even consider leaving my house at that point, so at least there is one good thing about Harmattan!
What the @#$% is Harmattan? Well, the title of this blog was not a metaphor to mark the passing of the new year although I am sure I could write an entire blog on my disappointment with the former and high expectations of the new. No, no. Harmattan is a dry northern season immediately following the end of the rains. The wind patterns change and bring south the cool Mediterranean winds that pick up the Saharan sand along the way. The farther north you go, the worse it gets.
I often think of Ponyboy reciting Robert Frost’s poem to Johnny in the outsiders. “Nature’s first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold”…clearly R. Frost never made it to West Africa. The entire landscape changes and everything that was green turns to gold for near 6 months! If by chance the vegetation has not withered away from lack of moisture it still carries the appearance of such due to the residue of terre rouge that accumulates on each leaf.
The biggest difference Harmattan brings and subsequently the reason for my contempt is the drop in temperature. I. AM. FREEZING! . Seriously, I did not come to Africa to walk around in pants, hoodies and shoes. I can’t even go to bed without socks unless I wish to wake up at 2am shivering. Showers, pfff… forget about it. They have become a thing to dread and I only force myself to if I have been working out. Otherwise it’s not uncommon for me to go upwards of four or five days.
But it’s not just me, Beninese people are cold as well, in fact you will see people sporting hats, gloves and winter coats until about mid morning. Some kids looking more like Eskimos than Africans. The only difference is that they are relishing this short period of time while I detest it. They know all too well that the miserable hot season is on their doorsteps and this fresh air is most welcome.
During the day the sun will still heat up the earth enough to remind us of our equatorial position reaching high into the 80’s, but once you step into a building or an area of shade you’ll be reaching for your jacket. The winds cut through you to the core and leave you immobile. While the sun shines high the village is bustling full of activity and commerce yet naturally as it goes down so does the heat and all motivation so that Tchatchou literally becomes a ghost town, a skeleton of its former self. Just like our winters in Wisconsin, people are cozy in their houses with family and have no intention of leaving. Lauren and I are the only ones crazy enough to be wandering the streets after 9pm and that is only because we are coming back from the bar!
Aside from the drop in temperature, Harmattan is also characterized by the intense dryness of the winds. Your entire body is longing for moisture; skin is ashy, lips are cracking and hair is frazzled. I try to never leave the house without a stick of Burt’s Bees chapstick in my pocket because there is nothing worse than an afternoon spent licking your lips to keep them from bleeding. Callused heels… you can forget about getting the remnants of dirt out of those cracks, they are permanently black! And no matter how often you apply lotion throughout, by the day’s end you will still be reaching for more.
So Harmattan sucks, but it is almost over and thankfully it will be my last one. Then I can go back to showering in relative comfort, wearing less clothes and enjoying all of the night life that Tchatchou has to offer. I do appreciate that I live in a climate which experiences seasonal variations since it reminds me of home. As with everything in life, it could always be worse, I could be shoveling my car out from the snow drifts that the plow has deposited over my vehicle. Instead I’ll throw on some sun block and my hoodie to go get some water from the pump.
Two days after writing this entry I awoke around three from a short slumber and sat up in bed hoping to discover what had roused me. I instinctively held my breath listening for a noise that would signal me to reach for the machete propped against my bed. I heard nothing. The concession was silent for once and not even a mouse was tramping about. I laid back down and breathed a deep sigh of relief. But something was wrong, something had awoken me. I sprang up in bed again but this time with a smile of pure joy like a child on Christmas morning. The winds had changed again! Harmattan was over and the moist humid air from the south was filling my lungs once more. The hot season has officially begun and as I laid back down throwing off my sheet, I laughed aloud recalling this article. I think I’ll take a shower this morning.
