It's hotter under the water

Sebastian had it wrong. It is most certainly hotter above water, at least in Burkina Faso. The Afrcian sun has been quite cruel these past two weeks. We has a glorious downpour two Saturdays ago, and since then all we’ve had is scalding heat. Even the Burkinabè are complaining. I’ve been informed that it’s hotter now than it was at the end of March (the peak of the hot season) last year. This early hot season means that either the rain will come earlier this year (yay!) or that there will be a nasty drought (boo!). The pessimist in le is preparing for the worst.

I’ve been in a bit of a pickle lately because of this saison chaud. I can’t sleep in my bed anymore because I sweat like I’m running a marathon in 100 degree weather, and I can’t sleep outside because 1) I don’t have a door to my courtyard and ) I live alone and someone could easily jump over my wall even if I did have a door. But I’ve found a solution! Now I leave my front door open but I close and lick my screen door, and I sleep directly in front of my screen on my Lipico. Every once in a while I catch a breeze and it is glorious!

I admit that I’m jealous of Herman because he can sleep outside. Oh to be a cat, one that’s loved. But Herman doesn’t sleep alone! He met his main squeeze, but I can’t actually confirm the gender of said squeeze because he/she won’t let me touch him/her. I’m calling this new kitten Harriet because I like the ring to “Herman and Harriet.” Harriet resembles Herman in color, except that he/she is also gray, and is severely underfed. But I’m currently rectifying the latter.

In other news, Herman got his rabies vaccination last week. That was a pleasant experience. I have a scratch on my left arm that resembles a sine curve.

So I’ve been in Bouroum-Bouroum for 6 months and Burkina Faso for almost 9. I feel comfortable here, but only as comfortable as I could possibly be in a place that is glaringly different from what I’ve known all my life. There’s no denying that I dearly miss so many comforts that I can never have here. Sometimes that truth is just so depressing. Some days are better than others. But I want to be here and I think that counts for a lot.

So I’m celebrating being in Burkina Faso. Warm coke, anyone? Bien sûr!

P.S. There are these goats that use an elevated log to climb atop my chicken coop. They proceed to dance around a bit and scream, head-butt each other--you know, goat activities. But then they inevitably start to freak out because they can’t figure out how to get back down to the ground ( bum bum bum…). It’s entertaining but also pathetic. Herman merely regards them with an expression that I can only describe as bored, and perhaps with a bit of hauteur. I adore him.