This is my third harmattan-season. Harmattan is a dry and amazingly dusty West African wind. It blows sand from the Sahara into Ghana, blocking the sun and making Accra a hazy, dusty city, cooling it down and covering it with amber coloured sand. This time of the year, the humidity drops up till the level that it actually makes sense to straighten your hair. It makes people stay in bed longer ‘because it’s too cold to get up’. And it makes my security guards wear their ski-jackets and hats.
‘But this is Africa, how cold does it really get’, one may ask, thinking that Ghana is on the equator. 'Well', I would answer, 'at night now it gets as cold as a shivering 26C. And during the day we are freezing, with just 30C.' My colleagues complain that the cold makes their skin crack and pity me for being from 'a cold country like this'. So yeah, time for woollen cardigans. I even wear jeans and shoes these days, getting ready for some real winter weather next week. Bring on the snow and hot chocolate for some home sweet home time. I can't wait to ride my bicycle, kiss my friends and family and spend some time in my pyjamas, drinking wine and secretly eating all the cookies from the Christmas tree.
