The heatwave

 I came to France in 2001, wrapped in the heaviest coat ever. Never mind that it was September and the weather was still quite warm. We dreaded winter and it was probably what we’d prepared for the most. It was the one thing I was sure I would have to confront.

The folly of youth my friends! Insouciance at its best. I wasn't afraid. I knew I would miss my people but hey, we had all been dispatched to boarding school. Four years, locked up. I didn't mind the experience. The good thing was that you made new friends, and that your school friends became friends with your home friends. You became more independent. Parents didn't have to deal with rebellious teens every single day, not that we really rebelled. I mean, French teens rebel. I find this perplexing, given that they are basically the ones ruling us. So why would a dictator rebel?

I am digressing. The point is, I didn't fear separation.

So to France I came, got to the airport and My lawd the first shock. CDG was enormous. I was the villager who had just arrived at the city, because indeed it felt like I had walked into an entire city, the lights, the many shops; bookshops, jewelry stores, restaurants, bags…name it.

Bzzzzzzzzz busy bees, everyone, it seemed to me had something to do, knew where they were heading and was in a hurry to get there, everyone but me.

It took me an hour and many francs to find my hosts. We hopped into the train and then everything was a blur.

Days turned into months, and the months turned into seasons. Autumn came around. I started believing I  would die any minute from the bitter cold and then winter came around and I died, literally. I learnt that I ought to remove my coat whenever I enter a house or a classroom. I didn’t understand why . Why should I be cold? I hardly ever felt the ‘heat’ from said heaters.   My toes were frozen, so were my fingers, my ears, and even my brain. As far as I was concerned, I was already dead.

Then spring came and life got better. Flowers bloomed, it rained, and I happened to speak rain pretty well, . But the most important thing in Spring was the sunrays!

Now, forgive me for I am old. I forget things so I don't remember if this post was about heatwave a la Jakki or the real 2003 heatwave. Both times my brain was fried.

Summer Summer time.

I’d read many novels, watched movies, tv programs and I could tell you without a shadow of a doubt that if summer were a person, it was beautiful and it had a nice reputation. Summer went to a group of schools. Summer ate with real Silver ware and crystal glasses. Summer was everything good and nice. No doubt about it.

Summer came and I was confused. I was hot and I couldn't breathe or even eat. Not that I was eating much for various reasons that I will not divulge. I came from a place where we ate steaming hot ugali (polenta  if you like) at 12.30 when the sun was blazing hot and still attended a double physics class without dozing off completely; with just a nod here or there for some. But that was the Kenyan Sun. This French one had bile. This is why I hate the heaven and hell narrative. I mean, whoever came up with the concept of burning eternally in hell...

So I got sunburns. Side note: Dear white people just because we are dark skinned doesn't mean we don't get sunburns or our skins don't darken aka tan.

I have, of course, gotten sun burns before but not as bad. And then the sweating. Christ! I would walk 10mins and find myself drenched in perspiration, streams of water literally flowing from every part of my body. I wasn't hydrating as one in such circumstances should. Did I mention I was semi homeless?

So one morning I woke up, dragged myself to the loo and there I didn't meet the creator or St Peter. I met the devil and his assistants, or other citizens of hell. I thought I would die. I was in so much pain that I couldn't talk, cry, or even move a muscle.

In typical 1st world fashion, no one was there. In typical post missionaries 3rd world, sorry developing world fashion, I’d sooner die the death of a thousand shames before I talked to anyone about my toilet business. So I went in again and it burnt and hurt.

There was only one way to solve the problem, I decided; to not go to the loo. I’d done it once when I joined high school and my OCD alter ego had issues with sharing bathrooms with strangers. I could do it again, I thought.

It took less than a full day to realize that UTI is one of the devil's ultimate weapons. You can't beat it. You can't win. By the time my hosts found me, I was pale and in so much agony they thought I was going to give up the ghost right there in their house. I had never been to the Doctors since I landed in France. The French sun finally did what Winter, culture shock, homesickness, eating a snail and puking for days couldn't do. It broke me!

A doctor was quickly called in. He took one look at my skin colour and weight and immediately came up with a theory. Yea! But he also did the necessary for me and for that I was grateful and even forgave every wrong clichéd assumption or theory he’d conjured up.

In 2003, many senior citizens, died because of the heatwave.

In 2019, 16 years later, we’ve had another heatwave. What can I say, I am glad I not only survived the French devilish sun but I learnt from past mistakes and I have been able to avoid hell’s Kalashnikov.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/3139694.stm

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/7270752_The_2003_Heat_Wave_in_France_Dangerous_Climate_Change_Here_and_Now