Harmattan

Dry winds hit my face as I step down from the airplane. Tired as hell I grudgingly descend the stairs and onto the Tarmac. I make my way slowly to the arrivals hall and all I can feel is the dry winds. I breathe the air and it is almost new to me. Very different from the air I came from. I see the haze as I stare across the the Tarmac and runway. The harmattan is strong in Kumasi. "Why is that?" I ask the driver as he reaches for my bag. I don't know if I expected an answer but I got one. A couple of weeks ago when I came to Kumasi, I received a similar welcome but less harmattan. I have to avoid the dry lips and possible cracks but I guess that comes with the season. A lick every second helps.