Heat & Mangoes

When arriving in Cameroon this past September I began hearing tales of the hot season in the north of the country that comes from March until sometime in May or June when the rains start again. Many volunteers would speak of temperatures in the 110-120 range, with night time temps cooling off to the mid 90s. In fact, as I right this post at about 7:30 in the morning I just noticed the thermometer topping 100 already. Should be a wonderful day!

I've been looking forward to this time of year with a mix of curiosity and dread, but surely the hot season couldn't be that unbearable, right? That was my logic until about 2 weeks ago when at about 2AM on a Thursday morning I found myself lying awake on my bed covered in a towel soaked with cool water and trying to ignore the heat rash that felt as if hundreds of tiny needles were pricking my skin. I suppose it was one of those moments in a PCV's life when the realization that you are indeed out of your element becomes painfully obvious. Even my poor dog is struggling. I don't let him in the house because he has a tendency to steal things within reach, so he spends most of his days in a shady spot of my concession digging holes in the sand in search of cooler earth to sleep on. While Timshel is busy destroying my yard in search of some cooler terrain, my favorite activity has been filling up a few buckets of water at noon everyday and slowly dumping them over my head. It's all about the simple pleasures in life, folks. Timshel doesn't trust me around water anymore, mainly because his bath time consists of me picking him up, dropping him in a bucket and then laughing maniacally as I scrub the little furball into a rage of puppy anger. He emerges looking like a drowned rat, thoroughly annoyed with me (I'm still laughing at this point), and proceeds to roll around in the sand in defiance. So as much as I'd like to help him out with the heat too, he wants nothing to do with me these days if water is involved. Yet in spite of the stifling heat day in and day out there are temporary moments of reprieve. When in Maroua a few weeks back a very rare rain and thunderstorm inundated the city for about an hour, bringing with it a heavenly breeze of cool air. It felt cooler than it had in months and I even contemplated throwing on long sleeves. Before doing so I checked the thermometer out of curiosity. This 'cool' temperature that almost prompted me to bundle up turned out to be 88. Obviously my body's definition of hot and cold has been altered, and the long sleeves will be staying tucked away for the time being. And while this may not interest anyone other than me, I have been wondering to myself "How do I know I have a fever when it is 115 degrees outside?" Certainly it must be impossible to tell, yes? Could this be my sick and demented way of finding positive things about the hot season here? Unfortunately I found out the other week that, yes, even when it is 115 degrees outside, a fever of 103 does not go unnoticed. Somebody get me Bill Nye the Science Guy's email. I want to know why, with a fever of 103, I don't just feel slightly cooler than my surrounding 115 degree environment.

If there is one redeeming quality of hot season here, it is that it also happens to be mango season. For a few months every year mango supply far outweighs demand, and a large mango goes for as little as 50cfa (less than 25 cents). I'm pretty sure I ate six to seven today alone, although I lost count in my mango-induced stupor. On average I'd say five mangoes a day is the norm, and I must tell you it is glorious. Mango juice, mango smoothies (I have a blender!), mango salsa, mango salad, mango preserves, mangoes in yogurt....and the list goes on. Hell, I would start taking my bucket baths with fresh squeezed mangoes if it weren't for all the flies. Once mango season comes to a close I certainly hope dried mangoes are still on the menu to help with the withdrawal.