HARMATTAN BECKONING
PERSONAL
Come a few
weeks’ time, we shall be experiencing ghostly faces whitened by dry air, and
hairlines, lashes and facial hairs decorated with delicate touches of snowy
Sahara dust…glorious harmattan beckoning.
There is something about seasons that is
absolutely beautiful, the expectant change. A thing that brings with it
memories wrapped neatly like the marrying of your thoughts and your senses.
Perhaps I will miss driving through streets, the lush limbs of neem and mango
trees lining footpaths slick with the rains that had fallen the evening before.
Ashen grey skies darkening by the second and preplanned days being
unapologetically crashed through by the splitting sky drenching the day in
ice-cold rainwater.
Well
the latter part I will not miss, for there has never been a time where the
Hollywood/Bollywood dancing in the rain moment has had me. *coughs* (save for
the one time I ever did try that, in which I danced with a week-long fever!)
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Come a few weeks’ time, we shall be
experiencing ghostly faces whitened by dry air, and hairlines, lashes and
facial hairs decorated with delicate touches of snowy Sahara dust. The
precision of lip splitting has already begun as I bite down continuously on
that sweet-sour pain that settles itself centre-down my lip at this very
moment. (we dry skinned people sit front row this season).
Despite its hard-core loving, I still I’m
stringently fond of harmattan like the fondness one has for life, a thing that
constantly threatens sanity and beats in a kind of pain that wraps itself
around you and wears your fight like an emblem of normalcy. Sorry to
digress(lol), but it’s hard not to.
My harmattan life hacks include a serious number
of moisturizers especially oils, which as a dry-skinned person is a must, for I
fear the barky cracks that otherwise surface. My hair shall be neatly tucked in
a protective style. I mean let’s be real here, my hair as all African hair
does, absolutely detests harmattan, so I’m also alternatively thinking of
arming myself with YouTube wisdom on ‘turbaning’ like the African child I am.
This
would be the best time to rearrange your wardrobe and lay in the open your
coats, sweaters, boots and scarves/caps/beanies for the early morning and late
night chills, and for the windy dust. In which case also, you cannot forget how necessary sun-shades are.
Keep hydrated as much as you can, you can
never go wrong with sufficient water consumption. And don’t forget to include ample
fruits and vegetables in your diet to boost your immune system, it will need a
lot of boosting these trying times.
I watch the fogs settle on hill tops and
breathe in the scent of glorious Harmattan beckoning, with glee. ‘I will love
the dry cold as it comes.’ I say to myself. And although I am usually not a
dramatic person (arguably so), starting out with days like these certainly
makes me feel like I’m living a bitter-sweet musical and might burst into a
monkey jumping song around the streets anytime soon.
I
hope you breathe in as much dusty-cold Sahara-winded memories as you can, and
stop cussing on the harmattan because it’s not going anywhere soon, so grab yourself
some Vaseline (petroleum jelly) loving. And to all my Nigerian and African
people in diaspora some wintery lands away, wouldn’t you trade winter for this
ehn? LOL. And if you don’t know Harmattan at all, I’ll be glad to lead you
through an experience, really. It’s back to my school books I’m afraid, exam
beckons too, see you in a bit!
P.S, leave me a
comment below on your favourite and worst thing about harmattan, and your go-to
life hacks for the season.
A hi nya, with
love, x E
8 comments
I am loving that purse ❤️ I have really dry skin and so I’m not a fan of the harmattan at all 😒
ReplyDeleteThanks dear! Lol I'm equally a dry skinned girl so I can relate. But it really has its perks in a place as hot as northern Nigeria where it brings along with it a little cold. Thanks for stopping by hun. ❤ E
Delete"Hello Harmattan, my closest friend
ReplyDeleteI've come to talk with you again."
I've certainly got more memories with harmattan than I've got with the raining season.
These days when that smell of dryness,
the cold penetrating through my skin
that all together retrieve memories
so sweet and dear tears try to pry their way out, but In not a man to cry so easily
and so I do so, cry inside my head.
Now, songs that I listened to repeatedly previous years harmattan, all start coming
back and the memories they hold dearly, surely I must listen to them again.
Though the cold is though and water becomes a foe, makes me dislike the season, harmattan, but the memories I wait
for all year saves my marriage with harmattan.
Lol I understand that bitter-sweet relationship well. Hope you enjoyed the read? ❤ E
DeleteMy lip cracks like err year its so annoying...i enjoy messing with it tho,d biting nd all,wait sounds like i enjoy pain...lol
ReplyDeleteOh believe me, you're not alone on this...Lol. So glad to hear from you! ❤ E
DeleteGood
ReplyDeleteThanks! ❤ E
DeleteEager to hear your thoughts!