Monday, 15 December 2014

HARMATTAN

7:14am, Ota time. I can feel in me the nasty exigencies of the sultry weather as I walk to the bus stop. The air smells old and rusty, the kind that makes you feel your body has been whisked away to Northern Nigeria overnight by mystical winds. Yes, the sailing winds seem like they can conjure voodoo; the mist of the early morning is sapped by the wind and the air is white and foggy. The sky looks dead too.

Dust paints every object in sight. It settles under my fingernails and on my skin. Five minutes into my walk, my feet are now a hue of white, like those of a sand castle building kid. Even the goats and chickens aren't spared. Seems they've got catarrh, as the bleats and crows are stifled and far between. Their hairs and feathers appear a bit eroded too, as if the wind contains acid instead of moisture.

You'll leave your skin if you hear me cough or talk. The dust lines my throat and makes me drawl each time I speak. "E kaaro ma", I greet the petty trader I meet on the way. She reflects aridity too.

Ara 'deinde
December 2014.

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