Harmattan

Dan in the cold dust filled air falls ill from a throat infection

Harmattan

December 1981

In November the Harmattan had come.  The cool, dry wind blew sand down from the Sahara across northern Nigeria chilling the air. Sitting in the van taking him back to Hadejia, Dan thought of Colleen  clinging to him for warmth.  She would be cold tonight.  So would he. He frowned at the taste of grit in his mouth. Dust covered everything these days. Elizabeth and Colleen had given up attempts to dust the house. According to Mike, Linda had done the same.  A veteran of Botswana with similar winds, Mike had told her that one learned to live with it.

Every bite of food and every drop of water tasted of sand. Freshly washed clothes smelt of sand. One even slept in sand for it coated sheets and blankets.

The morning after returning from Kano, Dan woke with a painful swelling in his throat.

Mike, bent over a bowl of oatmeal porridge looked up as Dan, half - dressed stumbled to the dust lined table.  “Morning Dan. How was Kano?”

“My  . . .  ” Croaking, Dan pointed at his throat.    

Confused Mike stared at him. Then, understanding, he poured him a cup of tea. “All that sand’s gotten to your throat. Have some tea. I’ll tell the headmaster you won’t be in today. After tea, go back to bed. I have a class at eight. After that I’ll take you to see Doctor Ramos.

“But . . . ”

 “But nothing.”

***

A mustachioed man in his early thirties Doctor Procopio Ramos was in his third year of a six year contract with the Kano State government. From his small air conditioned office he presided over Hadejia Hospital.  One look at Dan’s reddened throat was enough for him. “Uh huh. No teaching for you this week. You have to rest that throat.”

“But Doc . . .”

“Don’t argue. Just makes everything worse. Best thing for you is to go back to Kano and stay there with your wife until next week.”

“Is he up to taking the bus” asked Mike.

“So long as he doesn’t do any talking he should be fine. I’ll give him some antibiotics and a prescription just in case he needs more. With luck he’ll be better by the weekend. You drink alcohol Dan?”

“Green Sands,” Dan said thinking of the mixture of beer and lemonade he had developed a fondness for.

“Well, stay away from it. Also tobacco if you smoke. Juice, water, tea and soft foods, that’s your diet for the next couple of days. No spices.

“Back to Kano.” Ramos smiled. “Think of it as a holiday. ”

Mike drove Dan down to the lorry park. Bundled in sweater and windbreaker Dan leaned against Mike’s back. As the scooter bumped over the road Dan tried without much success to ignore the painful throbbing in his throat. He had taken an antibiotic but so far it had failed to do anything.

***

Approaching Ringim Dan felt the soreness in his throat easing. This helped him settle into a sleep that lasted until the Hiace pulled into the Kano lorry park.  Clutching his shoulder bag he stumbled out of the van and looked for a taxi.

Suleiman, sitting in his orange and white Peugeot, noticed the strange Baturi descend from the van and stumble towards his car. Baturis always paid well, some stupid enough to pay twenty nairas for a three nairas ride.  Behind the baturi the Van driver was talking to a police sergeant and pointing at the Baturi.

Suleiman frowned. If the man was suspected by the police it might be better to ignore him.  Still, twenty nairas was twenty nairas.

“Taxi,” Dan whispered waving at Suleiman.  He groped inside his wallet for the address that Colleen had given him. Pulling it out, he showed it to Suleiman. 

Nodding, the driver smiled. “Twenty nairas.” 

The sergeant his face marked by tribal scaring stepped in front of Dan. Dan, fearing arrest on some obscure charge, felt himself wilting.

“Mallam, give him three nairas.”

Suleiman began to complain. “Kai, Abdul this is not police business. It’s between me and the Baturi.”

The sergeant glared. “You have cheated enough people today, Suleiman. The man is ill. Have you no honour?”

He turned to Dan “Come mallam. Ride in the back.” Opening the door he helped Dan into the car. “I will ride with the driver just to make certain he does not get lost.

***

I pick up my golden biro.

Colleen’s eyes glazed. She had seen the same phrase fifteen times since beginning to check her students work.  A biro she had learned, the British term for a pen was a holdover from colonial days. How many golden biros are there in Nigeria?  Colleen smiled. “Very good, Miriam.”

The classroom door opened. The headmistress, Mallama Fatima, poked her head in. The students rose.

“Sit down girls. Mallama Colleen, go to the office.”

“Now?”

“Now. I’ll take over the class.”

Dan sat hunched in front of the secretary’s desk where the sergeant had deposited him.  His shaking hands clutching a cup of tea; he tried to smile as Colleen ran towards him.

The headmistress having dismissed the class stepped up to Dan. “I’ve seen it before. Every harmattan some students will be like this. The driver will take you home. Get Mallam Dan to bed. No exercise,” she stressed looking at Colleen. “Rest, juice, tea.”

“How long?” Colleen asked.

“Maybe two or three days. If he’s not getting better by then take him to a doctor . . .” Noting Colleen’s concern Mallama Fatima added, “but that is rare. He will probably be fine by Friday. You had better stay with him.”

“But . . . my classes.”

“For now your place is with him. I’ll have your classes picked up by other teachers. I’ll also tell Mallama Elizabeth what has happened.”

“I’m sorry” Dan mumbled. “I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

Fatima turned to him. “Rest your voice, Mallam Dan. There is no trouble. Allah blesses the compassionate and the ill. Leave it in his hands and in your wife’s.”

***

 

Dan spent the journey back to the house dozing on Collleen’s right shoulder. The school driver, Isa, a third cousin of the headmistress, was usually jovial and enjoyed talking with the passengers but this time, aware of the seriousness of his journey, he remained quiet.  He helped Colleen bring Dan into the house, placing him in a chair. Then, wishing Colleen well, drove off to report to the headmistress.

Helping to undress Dan, Colleen wished, not for the first time, that she had a bathtub in which he could soak. First on her list of things to do after leaving Nigeria would be to find a hotel with a tub.

Colleen perched Dan upon a white, plastic footstool, beneath the shower. She then removed her own clothes and turned on the water.  Allowing the hot water to spill over Dan  she applied soap with a blue facecloth.  Ignoring his groping hands she rinsed off the soap and dried him. She then placed him in bed, lying down beside him. Resisting the temptation to fondle him, she held him until he settled into sleep.

***

Elizabeth arrived just after three thirty. She found Colleen sitting on the green couch sipping a cup of coffee.

“How is he” Elizabeth asked.

“Sleeping.”

“Best thing for him.”

““Do you want some coffee?”

“I’ll make it.  Everyone at school is asking about him.”

“Most don’t even know him.”

“They know you. That’s enough.”

“Thank them for me.”

Then, lowering her face she began crying. Straightening herself Colleen wiped her eyes.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

 “He’s so . . . tired. He acts as if he’s strong but he’s not . . . His spirit is strong. He has such courage . . . but. Do you know at night he seems to stop breathing and then suddenly he starts again like a motor turning on and off.”

“Sleep apnea.”

“What’s that?”

“A sleeping disorder. The person can’t get a full night’s sleep. Has something to do with the shape of his airway. His breathing keeps stopping and then starting again repeatedly breaking his sleeping pattern. The victim is unaware of it, but not his or her spouse.”

“Does it cause heavy snoring?”

“It can. You noticed it?”

Colleen thought of the night in the hotel when to escape Dan’s snoring, she slept on the floor.  “Yes? What will happen to him?”

“Growing fatigue. With aging; undermining of his heart.”

“What can be done for him?”

“There’s an operation to open the respiratory tract. Just recently in Australia they’ve developed a machine that keeps the airway open. They haven’t introduced it to the public yet.”

“Does this mean that we have to return to Canada?”

“No. I don’t think so. Just be aware of it. You might speak to Richard about Dan getting a transfer to Kano.”

“I already have.”

“They probably wouldn’t have accepted him if they had known.”

“But if he didn’t know how would they know?”

“A medical exam but WUSC never had any. Better not mention the apnea for now. Someone in Ottawa might decide to recall him.”

“That would break his heart. He would blame himself for failing. I won’t let that happen.”

Elizabeth gave her a hug. “Go and stay with him. I’ll call you when supper is ready.”

***

 That evening Colleen slipped into her bedroom after saying goodnight to Elizabeth.  Dan seemed a little better. The soreness in his throat had ebbed.  His appetite had been better.  He had finished his soup and bread. His sleep seemed deeper, more tranquil. Colleen pulled on her nightie and settled next to Dan. As she reached to switch off the bedside lamp she thought of her first night with Dan, back at the Falaj, of how he had been so shy and defensive. Perhaps he had always been like that. Africa had changed him as it had so many others.  It had made him stronger.  It had also made her stronger.  She suspected that without Dan she would have fled back to the comforts of Hamilton.  Touching Dan’s chest she knew that she could not do that now, not without him. As long as he stayed, she would stay. Finishing the contract was so important to him. Others had left; more with every passing month.  Dan would stay until the end. She would stay with him.  She then did something she had not done since she had been a little girl. She prayed to God. She asked the divine spirit to keep her man safe.