Beauty
This morning, I was greeted by the brisk harmattan breeze, awakening to a chilly atmosphere. The preceding weeks had been sweltering, making this unexpected cold spell a likely reason for oversleeping. Despite the cold, I hurriedly showered in my modern bathroom with cold water, determined to avoid being tardy for work.
Mentally bracing myself for the anticipated shock, the cold water surprisingly failed to send shivers through my body. Instead, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, reminiscent of my childhood during this season. Although my current residence rarely experiences such cold, the harmattan remains harsh in my country home – my village.
In the past, the Christmas season meant a mandatory journey to my grandmother’s place, where waking up early was unnecessary. Aside from the harmattan’s effect on the skin, easily managed with clothing, the seasonal visitation was enjoyable. The only drawback was my bath time. Our rustic yet beautiful bathroom featured a floor paved with small stones and walls crafted from intricately woven palm front branches. It had a complete frame but no door; we covered the entrance with a wrapper during use.
This charming bathroom, however, lacked a roof. The harmattan’s chill could turn a heated bucket of water cold in less than thirty minutes, highlighting the severity of the weather. It was in this exposed setting that I regularly bathed, enduring the intense cold. Each bath required mental preparation, and the process had to conclude within two minutes – a stark contrast to the leisurely 30-minute baths I enjoyed in the city.
Experiencing a similar weather in the city for the first time, I expected the familiar chill. Yet, I discovered that the intensity of harmattan cold varies significantly when in an enclosed space.
