The month I hate
It is June.
Excuse me all those born the month of June, the ones that fall in love for the first time during a hot June and remember it vividly, the ones that consider June the kick off of the holiday season, those that like the weather changes that start in June...summer in the Northern hemisphere, tropical storms in Benin...apologies for the next posting but me and June do not get along.
First, I have a sinus infection and I am over worried. The image of me, myself and I doing eucalyptus inhalations over a pan (again…I spent the whole of last June doing that twice per day) mixed the steam with my tears. This is about the health reason that justifies my June’s aversion. Dummy me I have probably been doing all the wrong things to maintain my sinuses clean and in perfect functioning: I have been to Msebo and Dantokpa, two markets that do not comply with any, ANY, public health standard. Indeed they are sources of public unhealthiness. Dusty, muddy, messy, urine-infested, insect-invaded…
Second, my colleagues from work inform that this is one of the wettest months of June ever seen in Benin. I am right now vegetating by the pool writing this posting in a wonderfully sunny day and my second reason to hate June seems rather feeble…but still, the 15 first days of Cotonou’s June have been unforgettably horrific.
I do not find any other reason to dislike June. I actually used to love it. See how firm my statements are…jez, I could be a two-handed economist…on the one hand, I hate June, on the other, I love June. June was the start of the summer, the end of the school year. The trips to my grandma’s village. The afternoons of chorizo sandwiches and baths and games in the river. The barbeque nights in the bodega. Those Sundays of compulsory church attendance dressed, often, in pink. The music. The afternoon ice-creams with my grandma…almendrado, that vanilla ice-cream all dipped in chocolate with almond bits.
Maybe I was exaggerating, maybe two bad Junes can not beat twenty-six splendid ones.
Excuse me all those born the month of June, the ones that fall in love for the first time during a hot June and remember it vividly, the ones that consider June the kick off of the holiday season, those that like the weather changes that start in June...summer in the Northern hemisphere, tropical storms in Benin...apologies for the next posting but me and June do not get along.
First, I have a sinus infection and I am over worried. The image of me, myself and I doing eucalyptus inhalations over a pan (again…I spent the whole of last June doing that twice per day) mixed the steam with my tears. This is about the health reason that justifies my June’s aversion. Dummy me I have probably been doing all the wrong things to maintain my sinuses clean and in perfect functioning: I have been to Msebo and Dantokpa, two markets that do not comply with any, ANY, public health standard. Indeed they are sources of public unhealthiness. Dusty, muddy, messy, urine-infested, insect-invaded…
Second, my colleagues from work inform that this is one of the wettest months of June ever seen in Benin. I am right now vegetating by the pool writing this posting in a wonderfully sunny day and my second reason to hate June seems rather feeble…but still, the 15 first days of Cotonou’s June have been unforgettably horrific.
I do not find any other reason to dislike June. I actually used to love it. See how firm my statements are…jez, I could be a two-handed economist…on the one hand, I hate June, on the other, I love June. June was the start of the summer, the end of the school year. The trips to my grandma’s village. The afternoons of chorizo sandwiches and baths and games in the river. The barbeque nights in the bodega. Those Sundays of compulsory church attendance dressed, often, in pink. The music. The afternoon ice-creams with my grandma…almendrado, that vanilla ice-cream all dipped in chocolate with almond bits.
Maybe I was exaggerating, maybe two bad Junes can not beat twenty-six splendid ones.
Comments