The season called the "Chaleur" (the Heat) has descended on the Sahel. Since February 23rd we haven't had a daily high temperature below 102˚F. And it hasn't been below 104˚F since March 2nd. I was planning to reduce the amount of time I spend out in my fieldsites of Weglega and Tama because of the heat. I thought I might rev up my data collection at USAID WA-WASH and Winrock and profit from the air-conditioned offices. I was kidding myself.I'm still feeling the time crunch. It's compounded by the US Embassy, which, as part of my Fulbright Scholarship, would like me to present preliminary data at their cultural centers around the country starting in April as part of their promotion of Environment Month. I'm scrambling to gather as much data as possible to make my talk as interesting (i.e. worthwhile) as possible.With the heat and with the time crunch I began to stress. And then it hit me. I woke up one morning on my cot (it's too hot to use a mattress), damp from the nighttime heat, sweat already forming on my brow, not caring about the heat. I've reached a zen-like acceptance of the heat. What else can one do? That's not to say I don't notice the heat; I notice it all the time. I just don't care about it anymore.But I was still stressing myself out, trying to cram as many interviews into the weeks as possible. My zen-like acceptance facilitated my trips out to my fieldsites. I'd suck down the 3 liters my CamelBak carries by early afternoon, using purification tablets when I refilled it from well water. I was a man on a mission. Until yesterday.The temperature pushed 110˚F yesterday. The wind was like being blown by an industrial hairdryer. The sun burnt my skin immediately. Everyone and everything--Burkinabe, chickens, dogs, cattle, anthropologists--scurried from shade to shade. Chickens panted, holding their wings out, trying to expel body heat. Men and women sat with blank stares, sucking their teeth occasionally to show their disapproval with the sun.Then there was me, trying to run from field to compound to make my day as productive as possible. At midday I met with a key informant to begin an economic decision-making case study. We chatted. I got my information and we chatted some more. I asked to take my leave."I must ask for the road.""It's too hot," he replied, "the sun burns."It's culturally appropriate to refuse to let someone leave. If a host doesn't feign resistance to departure it's a bit like hurrying the guest along, as if you didn't enjoy their company. So I insisted, as is appropriate, telling him I enjoyed his hospitality but that I had programmed some more work."Rest awhile," he insisted. "No one's going anywhere. You can do your work later." He was being more insisting than usual. I get up and creep out from under the shade of the tree."The sun hits!" I exclaim. They laugh. So I retake my place with the family. I call my other interviewees and tell them I'm waiting out the sun and settle into my chair. I end up dozing off to the sounds of kids playing, women quietly chatting, chickens clucking, and the leaves of the neem tree rustled by the hot breeze. I wake up 45min later, refreshed.It's 3:30 and the heat of the day is beginning to pass. I ask to take my leave some time later, the family less resistant, content that I napped and waited out the sun. They tell me it's good to relax, to stop working from time to time. I smile, finally permitting myself to take their advice.My audience and entertainment for the afternoon repose;boys playing "how many can fit on a wooden bench."
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