Harmattan was my wrestling nickname

A few months before I came to Senegal, I remember getting very excited (and a little concerned) when NASA's image-of-the-day website featured a satellite picture of West Africa and the Atlantic Ocean. The shot captured just about everything I knew then about Senegal, which is to say its basic geography.

The disconcerting thing was the dirty smudge that showed up on the screen, like a smear of paint dragged from the Sahara out into the royal blue of the Atlantic, shrouding that western tip of the continent where I knew Dakar to be. I science-geeked out over this, the dry hot Harmattan winds carrying sand and dust and dirt from Africa out across the ocean. Sometime back in an environmental science class, I'd learned that it was because of this annual occurrence, which is sometimes strong enough to reach South America, that the rain forests of that continent continue to exist. When the African dirt finally precipitates out of the atmosphere over Brazil, it replenishes and rejuvenates the depleted soils.

But awe gave way to terror when I imagined how that satellite photo would translate on the ground. Even a windstorm in Colorado isn't all that pleasant to breathe in.

So here we are almost a year later, barreling toward the hottest, driest season of the year. I can't say I've experienced Harmattans yet, but it gets plenty windy. The gusts blow in my window screens daily. From the shelter of my room, I watch the wind pushing mini-dunes in the loose sand. A not-so-fine film of dust covers every inch of everything inside, too; sweeping is a Sisyphean task. Dust is in the air, assaulting lungs and leeching every bit of moisture from throats and eyes.

Some days, like today, you can't make out the sun until 9-10a.m. (it rises hours earlier); the haze that veils it reminds me of the fog on a snowy morning back home. It's extremely disorienting.

The sun had come up when I took this...

I should hedge this. It's already May (the Harmattans are a winter phenomenon). If I've survived the worst, perhaps this isn't so bad. The peak of the hot season and the dreaded rainy season are bigger menaces right now. A moment of silent gratitude is in order; island-life imposes a constant humidity on life. Yes, I'll be cursing the skies come mosquito season (er, more-mosquito season), but for now it's a blessing that keeps the dust down (relative to the poor folks farther inland, closer to the source of all this airborn grit).

Nevertheless, the science-geek still thinks it's fucking awesome that you can see this stuff from space. Here are links:

Last June's Nasa pic!

Another cool NASA shot

And wikipedia on Harmattan