amateur african almanac, 9 June 2008

Winter is upon us. I couldn't be happier.

I sleep more deeply at night, curled up in a ball beneath a sheet and two thick blankets, the chilly African night air restricted to just my head. Breaking the unspoken custom of Thanksgiving food drives (so poor people end up with everybody else's rejects, nasty creamed corn and pickled canned okra), Bob sent me his comfiest pair of Minnesota north shore wool socks. They're practically two inches thick. I wear them in the evening and every night to bed. Heck, its 1:30 in the afternoon and I have them on. They need to be washed soon.

Winter here is also tangerine season. They're everywhere, you can buy a whole pile for 20 cents. Jenny and Joel's pastor has several trees in his yard and offered to give them a few for our last team meeting. They arrived with 200.

Chimoio is getting drier; the streets are taking on that Old West look I like so much. Trucks rumble past and the dust goes high and wide, swirling. Street-venders are often seen dusting their tangerines.

Avocados are back. Also sweet potatoes. Their leaves are my favorite green. Yesterday I made pumpkin soup and a deformed rosemary bread, a classic winter meal. I wore my wool socks while I baked.

This is the only time of the year that it makes sense to leave your hair down, so I got mine cut last week. Hair-cutting is a major issue here if you're not black or taking occasional trips down to South Africa (I'm not). This fashion dilemma had immobilized me in ponytail mode for many months until Jenny met Laura, a lovely middle-aged Argentinian woman who used to be a hairdresser and soon will be new best friend, if I plan things right.

I love this cool weather. I love sweaters and snuggling. Inspired, I even put on Christmas music. But Sara threw a fit and made me me turn it off.