encapsulating the abstract into reality by the creative abilities of arts and literature

The mountains seemed like they were moving alongside the vehicle, as we drove past the lonely country road side of Nusuka. I could feel unbroken streams of tears running down my cheeks, as the harmattan wind blew forcefully into my eyes. My skin was as white as snow, regardless of the generous amount of coconut oil that I had applied earlier on in the morning and it felt really dry and scaly, but it was nothing compared to the pain I felt from my cracked lips. Nature would always have its course and that’s what makes life beautiful. It was the harmattan season, popularly referred to as the dry season in most West African Countries. Apparently, during this season, the heat from the sun seemed to be more scorching than usual, the wind blows really cold dry air, the leaves on the trees fall off and the ones that are left are usually grey, the whole town is covered in red dust, probably because it doesn’t rain at that time and the soil becomes really hard, making it impossible for farmers to cultivate any crop. During the harmattan season, people wear clothes that are often made of thick cotton and they try as much as possible to cover up all parts of the body, leaving only a little part of their bodies exposed. Nusuka was a town, bewildered by high mountains and flourished with springs. As we drove past this epitome of beauty, I could see the villagers sitting in circles on bare dusty mud floors, with bodies wrapped in blankets or the native material, usually called an “ogodor” and in the center of the circle, a big round metallic pot was placed cooking on a chunk of firewood, as hot steams of boiled yam, erupted from the pot. It was evident that the steams from the pot and the heat from the burning firewood, kept the people sitting around it hot. Normally, the main dish which is yam is being boiled with enough spices in order to make it really hot. All these were aimed at reducing the effect of the deadly harmattan cold. Staring at the people, I could feel the love, care and concern, emanating from their kind gestures, towards each other. Oh! How I wished I could stay for a while before leaving. I wanted to experience more of the Nusuka culture and desperately desired to be a part of it. i had a glimpse at reality and magic.