During the months of December and January the air became a little cooler, it’s called Harmattan. During this season the winds came down from the Sahel of the Sahara Desert. The mornings are hazy; sand ligers in the air while my neighbors sweep the area in front of our house. The villagers would shield themselves from the cold by staying in their homes until they had no choice but to start the morning chores. Babies were dressed in knitted hats, jackets and booties. Others wore sweatshirts, pants under pants, down jackets; one day I noticed Tayé (an apprentice) wearing a jacket made for firefighters- how it got to Benin beats me.
I too felt the chill. There were some nights when I needed to sleep in a sweatshirt and socks. The mornings I would wake up, make a cup of coffee with my French press and crawl back into bed with a book- I loved it! You are probably wondering how cold it actually got, well… my thermometer never fell below 70 o, not cold by our standards but hey, it was at least 20 o cooler than normal.
Too quickly the days grow hotter. Harmattan was coming to an end. The transition to chaleur or the hot, dry season meant an end to mornings drinking hot coffee and a beginning of profuse sweating. Tomatoes have become almost impossible to find and basins are piled up at the pump; women spend hours waiting for water. However, this is also the season for cashews. For the risk of sounding dumb, I never knew cashews grew on trees- huh. They grow on the bottom of a cashew apple, a fruit filled with juices that stains your clothes, but are so delicious!
One day walking around, I was beckoned by one of the men who work at our “gas station,” in other words a little shack where they sells gas and do some moto repairs. The men were in the process of cracking grilled cashews and asked if I wanted to join. Of course I did! So I was offered a tiny stool, handed a wrench, and with minimal explanation I began cracking. It was quite a sight for those passing by to see me, in a clean pair of jeans and a button down shirt, sitting with a bunch of men covered in soot around a pile of cashews. I soon learned the secret- eat more than you put in the finished pile, something I was glad to do. After this little pow wow, I was invited to stay and eat bouille (a gruel, porridge like thing made from corn flour and lots of sugar). That afternoon I was just one of the guys.
I too felt the chill. There were some nights when I needed to sleep in a sweatshirt and socks. The mornings I would wake up, make a cup of coffee with my French press and crawl back into bed with a book- I loved it! You are probably wondering how cold it actually got, well… my thermometer never fell below 70 o, not cold by our standards but hey, it was at least 20 o cooler than normal.
Too quickly the days grow hotter. Harmattan was coming to an end. The transition to chaleur or the hot, dry season meant an end to mornings drinking hot coffee and a beginning of profuse sweating. Tomatoes have become almost impossible to find and basins are piled up at the pump; women spend hours waiting for water. However, this is also the season for cashews. For the risk of sounding dumb, I never knew cashews grew on trees- huh. They grow on the bottom of a cashew apple, a fruit filled with juices that stains your clothes, but are so delicious!
One day walking around, I was beckoned by one of the men who work at our “gas station,” in other words a little shack where they sells gas and do some moto repairs. The men were in the process of cracking grilled cashews and asked if I wanted to join. Of course I did! So I was offered a tiny stool, handed a wrench, and with minimal explanation I began cracking. It was quite a sight for those passing by to see me, in a clean pair of jeans and a button down shirt, sitting with a bunch of men covered in soot around a pile of cashews. I soon learned the secret- eat more than you put in the finished pile, something I was glad to do. After this little pow wow, I was invited to stay and eat bouille (a gruel, porridge like thing made from corn flour and lots of sugar). That afternoon I was just one of the guys.
(My neighbors Dione, top, and Prisca, bottom, grilling and cracking cashews.)
But the glories of eating cashews are not enough to win me over. Lately, I wake up sweating and go to bed sweating. Walking any distance longer than 50 feet and I’m drenched; after cooking I look like I’ve been sitting in a sauna. I stopped using my lantern as much because it gives off extra heat. And for a while, I would lay outside on my porch at night, waiting for my house to cool down a bit before crawling under my mosquito net.
Besides the continuous sweating, constant applying and reapplying of sunblock and the endless desire for something cold to drink in a village where refrigerators are few, I also have new habitants in my home trying to find shade. Spiders, geckos, and crickets I’m used to, even the really big hairy spiders I can deal with, but the scorpion I found behind my bookshelf- eeck! It took three swats with my sandal to kill it. I saved the remains only long enough to show my neighbors. The first thing they said was “ah kāy kāy” (the word for scorpion in Nagot) and that it stings man. Something I was well aware of.
Hopefully the rainy season will creep up as quickly as the chaleur did. Already it’s rained twice, both times only for a few minutes, but it was welcomed.
But the glories of eating cashews are not enough to win me over. Lately, I wake up sweating and go to bed sweating. Walking any distance longer than 50 feet and I’m drenched; after cooking I look like I’ve been sitting in a sauna. I stopped using my lantern as much because it gives off extra heat. And for a while, I would lay outside on my porch at night, waiting for my house to cool down a bit before crawling under my mosquito net.
Besides the continuous sweating, constant applying and reapplying of sunblock and the endless desire for something cold to drink in a village where refrigerators are few, I also have new habitants in my home trying to find shade. Spiders, geckos, and crickets I’m used to, even the really big hairy spiders I can deal with, but the scorpion I found behind my bookshelf- eeck! It took three swats with my sandal to kill it. I saved the remains only long enough to show my neighbors. The first thing they said was “ah kāy kāy” (the word for scorpion in Nagot) and that it stings man. Something I was well aware of.
Hopefully the rainy season will creep up as quickly as the chaleur did. Already it’s rained twice, both times only for a few minutes, but it was welcomed.
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