the sahara is waiting for rain

Kaedi refectoire

After much tossing, turning, moaning and despairing, I finally fell asleep last night. Although I was not entirely cognizant of that sweet transition into unconsciousness, I was infinitely thankful.

Why so much tossing? The short answer: because I’m lazy. The long answer: late in the night, I awoke to the sound of tropic screen mosquito nets drug through the sand, disoriented curses mumbled over an increasingly strong wind. My obvious question “what the hell is going on?” was answered by a sleepy chorus of noncommittal sandstorm warnings. Despite the uncertainty, I decided to collapse my mosquito net. And by collapse, I mean forcefully drag it, half assembled through the narrow door of the dormitory. Too disoriented to reconstruct it, I threw the mass of netting and tent poles to the floor and tromped outside to tell any remaining trainees to come in out of the storm. There was debate on the source of the warnings, Mauritanian meteorological patterns, and uneducated guesses as to the impending quantity of sand and rain versus the impending quality of sleep to be had in a cramped, non ventilated dorm. In short, my attempt at courtesy was met with squabbling and complaint. My response: Stay out here, get wet. Go inside, be hot. I. Don’t. Care.

I covered my exhausted, sweaty self with the dismantled mosquito net, which proved to have impressive insulatory qualities. Hence, the tossing.

Imagine my joy to wake up this morning comfortable. Comfortable is of course a relative term, but the air was cool, I felt a gentle breeze through a gap in the wall, and was not soaked through with sweat. It was indeed, a beautiful morning.

The day remained cool, perfect for our tech sessions in the garden – we learned how to dig a seed plot, fertilize it, level it, and relevel it. A refreshing drizzle mid-dig redeemed all the hot days that had come before, and even the excruciating mugginess last night. It was exactly enough to turn my entire mood around, something as inconsequential as an afternoon sprinkle.

I overheard a volunteer once say if you have a string of seven irredeemable days, consider going home. Even at my lowest points, I am hard pressed to find nothing redeemable. Which is a good thing, since I’m in this for the long haul. Humidity do your damndest, I’ll just wait for the rain.