Harmattan

I was shivering cold when I woke up this morning, which I thought was an odd, if welcome, surprise.  I opened my apartment door and blinked in further surprise.  I frowned and whispered to no one, "Is it foggy?"  The air had that dense, hazy look that comes with the thickest of fog that sometimes rolls in off the Arkansas River.  And furthermore....it was cold. And dark.  The air was so thick that it seemed to have texture to it.  In total confusion, I walked out in to the courtyard where other people were walking around.  I looked closely - they were all wearing masks.  "Holy cow," I thought, "it's dust!"  Sure enough, what had appeared to be fog was in fact sand from the Sahara so thick that it was actually blocking out the sun.  It was obviously daylight outside, but the dust was so thick that it looked like a heavily overcast day.  When I got in the missionaries' car, Gin greeted me with, "Welcome to Harmattan!" and laughed when I told her I had though it was fog.  Everyone we passed was wearing some sort of cloth mask over their nose and mouth, and the dust continued to block the sun all day to the extent that I was actually cold during my French lesson.  When I got back to my apartment, I decided to make a cup of coffee to warm up.  I tied a bandana across my mouth and nose and walked next door to the kitchen, where I found some neighbors cooking lunch, each one also wearing a mask to block out the dust.  I laughed when I saw myself in the mirror.  "I look like a bandit.  And I'm here as a missionary."  Every time I took the bandana off, no matter if I was inside or outside, I noticed that everything smells like an old, dusty closet that has just been opened for the first time in years.  Ive had to squint when I walk to protect my contacts.  I thought of the stories mamma used to tell about blizzards in Alaska, and I think that Harmattan must look somewhat like those white-out conditions...African style :).