As some of you already know, i'm currently spending my one year of compulsory national service in Kaduna. I remember the reaction of many of my friends and my own personal trepidation when i was initially posted to Gombe state. Anyways i applied for and was granted relocation to Kaduna state, not really because there was any real threats in Gombe state, but because i believed Kaduna was slightly safer, more populated and very importantly, more cosmopolitan. This is my first account of my stay so far in Kaduna state. Although there is so much to talk about, i'd rather write my account in batches, starting from the most immediate to the more remote.
It was the second day of November, my Landlady and i struck up a conversation when i returned from School that day. During the course of the conversation, we talked about the weather and how the Sun shone fiery heat into our homes. At this point, she jokingly encouraged me to just bear the brunt of the Sun's anger for just another month, stating that by the end of November, i should be ready to usher in the ice-cold dry wind that stalks the harmattan season every other year.
I thought She was exaggerating things when she told me to go buy blanket sheets and other such thick clothing in anticipation of the impending chilliness which no one can possibly get accustomed to; i thought she was joking.
Today is the fourteenth day of November and i'm wrapped in two rolls of blanket sheets like an Egyptian mummy, thick woollen socks pulled up to my knee and hand gloves trying to shield my hands from the constant intrusion of the chilly cold, if it wasn't for my religiosity, i would have even stuck some cotton rolls to bar the chilly code from entering through my nose. It seems the harmattan had eavesdropped on our conversation and consequently decided to show up early this year.
I woke up on the morning of fifth November, my lips were all white, hard and caked, i ran my tongue across the dryness of my lips and to my utmost surprise, i tasted blood. A further investigation in front of my small hand-held mirror revealed that i already had four small harmattan-induced bruises on my lower lip. Knowing fully well that Prayers cannot solve this issue, i had to hastily grab a small container of petroleum jelly which i rubbed on the pale surface of my dying lips. Although with constant application of the jelly my bruises disappeared within twenty-four hours, however the harmattan cold waxed stronger and is still waxing colder as the days go by.
The most scary part of the issue right now is everyone keeps telling me that the current state of affairs is just a mere joke, a haphazard dress rehearsal to the chilliness which December would usher in. The other day, i tried to confirm from a girl how true this was, and she advised that if i'm currently using two blankets, then i better consider purchasing another three, because i'm still in the preliminaries of a very serious cold affair.
Anyways for now, I've been surviving. I still manage to have my cold bath every other morning, wear my sweater throughout the day and every other night, i replace my pyjamas with a pair of jean trousers, woolen socks, gloves and three pairs of shirts, the last of which is my red and white stripped sweater.
Right now all i have to say is "let the harmattan come, and i will survive, for only survivors ever make it to the finish line", For your information anyways, that was just an irrational but faith based statement though, if anyone has any other useful tips to survive this weather, such tips should better be kindly left in the comment box below, before this story ends as a tragedy of dirges, and a bouquet of fresh eulogies.
(Kaduna)
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