Seeing Red Again

I wake up to an eerily soft light filtering into my room. Something isn’t right. I reach for my cell phone sitting on the desk next to my bed and as I start to push aside the mosquito net a shower of dust cascades down, covering my hand. Well that’s not good.

After very carefully squeezing my way out of my dust trap of a mosquito net I take a look out the window at another world. A strange red glow has replaced the usual bright blue of the sky. The familiar trees and buildings around me were obscured by a reddish fog. And everywhere, small pieces of dust are precipitating down like small, red snowflakes. I close the window. I close all the windows. I’m really hoping they cancel class today but by the muffled sounds coming in the direction of the school it sounds like they haven’t.

After finding and dusting off a dust mask I that had laid dormant in my closet every since its first journey with me from Ouagadougou I stepped outside. The first thing I noticed was one set of footprints across our concrete patio tracked through the thin layer of dust gathered there. On the way over to the school I saw more - the solid tracks of motos and the thin ribbon of passing bicycles as well as two python tire treads. I want rain.

My students have taken on a variety of defenses against the dust. Most are covering their noses and mouth but some also insist on wearing a hat. One is wearing her winter coat. Whatever works. As we set off toward the computer lab several things are running through my mind. First I’m glad that I remembered to close all blind-like window coverings last night. Second I’m really glad that I had won my first battle to get equipment for the lab – sheets to cover all the computers and keyboards. Finally I was wondering how bad this is going to be for my dilapidated fleet of ancient computers. They’ve seen worse – I’m almost sure of it.

The room holds surprisingly little dust waiting for us – no more so than would accumulate in a couple weeks of inactivity. Class is over just as the students are starting to get a grasp on what I’m talking about as par usual. I spent the rest of the day shut up in my room trying not to breath.

Who’s to blame for this? I think Iceland. Asking around the jury is pretty split. I’ve gotten responses ranging from this is definitely the volcano to this is the Sahel and it happens every year to I don’t know but it hasn’t been this bad for twenty years! Whatever is the case, I’m relieved it only lasted a day and I’m really hoping we don’t see a day like that again here for twenty years.