Rainy season is now well underway in Kolofata. While it doesn’t actually rain that much – maybe once a week – Kolofata does feel a lot more different. There’s actually a ton of grass, which is a huge difference compared to when it was just sand everywhere. It’s getting cooler, though some days are still pretty hot. And people are back in the fields, en brousse, as well as in Kolofata. Over the past few weeks, I’ve come across my friends at their houses planting corn and other things on the land around their houses. It makes me feel out of place, actually, not joining in with my community and planting. (Though my counterpart and I are working on planting a soy field at the hospital.) I also feel pretty out of place when people ask me if my house is okay – I have a really nice and sturdy house compared to the vast majority of people in Kolofata, because of the high Peace Corps standards of housing, and I am very grateful for it. So while some rain water seeped into the floo rof my house, many people suffer much worse – their houses get completely damp, and some roofs even come off houses.  The power has been going out again, since the rain and winds often knock down the electricity poles. And since the road between Kolofata and Mora isn’t paved, taking a moto back and forth has become even more frustrating.

Still, here’s how I remember hot season:

Sleeping outside: Whenever I slept outside, I did actually sleep under my spare mosquito net (thanks to Marta, the surgical resident who was here a few months ago). Even though there are definitely fewer mosquitoes around during hot season than during rainy season, the mosquito net was great for  being a barrier to all kinds of bugs crawling around. Every morning, I’d wake up when it got bright enough, if I wasn’t already awake from the morning prayer call. (You can see the 6 ft walls of my compound, where I feel pretty safe.)

Mangoes: The delicious mangoes definitely made hot season much better (as well as my fridge. and cold mangoes from my fridge. or anything cold from my fridge). Here’s a picture of the mangoes I bought over a three day period, when I maybe went a little bit overboard (and yes, I did manage to eat them all before they went bad):

Friday market in Kolofata: The ones on the left are from the Friday marche in Kolofata. I believe that I paid either 10 Naira for each one or perhaps 3 for 20 Naira. (10 Naira is about 6.6 US cents. Because Kolofata is only 10 km away from the border, most people use Nigerian currency. I get someone to exchange for me at the border, because merchants usually set their prices in Naira.)

Saturday in Maroua: I bought the biggest mango I’ve ever eaten in my life in Maroua, when I went in for my monthly trip to the bank. We were waiting for our food at a restaurant, when a girl walked by, selling huge mangoes – almost the size of footballs – on a dish on her head. It was 150 FCFA (about 30 US cents).

Sunday market in Mora: To get back from Maroua, I take a car to Mora, and then I take a moto back to village. I had my moto driver wait a few minutes for me while I picked up a few things in the Mora Sunday market. I somehow forgot about my mangoes back in Kolofata, and I ended up buying 8 little mangoes for 200 francs (about 40 US cents).

Now that it’s rainy season, I am back to sleeping inside every night. Walking around my village at noon has also become much more bearable. Also,  mango season is ending. After learning how to make mango jam from Jess, the agro volunteer in Mora, I recently held a class at my Women’s Center on how to make mango jam, as a possible income-generating project. The demonstration went well, but it’s way too late in the season. I hope that some will sell it next mango season, though. (Beth, the agro volunteer in Bogo, another post in the Far North, worked with women to prepare it and sell it in the market during the hot season.) Here’s a picture of my friend Asta letting her child taste some of the mango jam:

Well, ’til next year, hot season.