8 December 2024
Today's advent treat comes all the way from sunny Cameroon! RIELA Affiliate Artist Geraldine Sinyuy has written a joyful poem about what this time of year is like where she lives in North West Cameroon, giving those of us in the Northern Hemisphere a welcome reprieve from cloudy grey skies. Enjoy!
N.B.: The Harmattan is a season in West Africa that occurs between the end of November and the middle of March. It is characterized by the dry and dusty northeasterly trade wind, of the same name, which blows from the Sahara over West Africa into the Gulf of Guinea (Wikipedia).
Thankful for Harmattan
This poem is inspired by nature around me in the last quarter of the year. I live almost in the countryside where nature responses very positively to seasons. This is the period when plants flower announcing the beginning of the dry season. During this time, the earth is baked dry, drought sets in, beetles appear on wild flowers, dragon flies crisscross the city square and the untarred roads become very dusty.
The gentle wind swiftly slides over trees,
And makes whispering sounds over trees and reeds,
The soft sweet wind caresses my ears, my cheeks and forehead
And my skirt flirts along with the passing wind.
I squint my eyes and smile
As the happy dust, rising for the first-time above ground level,
Kisses my eyes, my neck and settles down,
As I shield my eyes from sand and dust.
I leave footprints on the dusty powdery road,
Knowing the wind will soon sweep them away,
I glide upon the hot-baked rocks,
Like a bee upon a flower glides
Slurping nectar from flower to flower.
I lie down flat on my back, with my face to the sky
And I feel the crackling dry grass tell stories of dehydration underneath me
And the harder twigs massage my back, free acupuncture therapy,
Nature’s gift to my aching back,
And the sun sends sharp arrows of light rays into my expectant eyes
And e-xay the resilience of my eyes to vehement light.
And as one in love at first sight, I squint my eyes every now and then,
And spread my arms to embrace the warmth of the sun rays.
On this side of the hill there’s a special kind of magical music,
A blend of jazz, blues and reggae mixed with rhumba,
Sung by the birds, the bees, the beetles and bumble bees,
That makes me begin to hug the grass for a dance,
Tossing my head backwards and swaying sidewards.
The fragrance from the wild flowers flows through my nostrils
And sends signals to my sensory nerves,
And at this moment, I am thankful for harmattan
And thankful ‘cause harmattan announces Christmas.
By Geraldine Sinyuy
