We don’t have snow, two weeks before Christmas. We have Sahara dust, falling slowly and thickly. Soot from farm field fires and trash lands everywhere. That’s the Liberian smell of Christmas – warm, flinty, with hints of roasted rubber trees. But it’s still Christmas season. Street vendors sell Christmas trees and colored lights in the streets. The reggae band at the Club Hotel played Christmas carols last night. If you haven’t heard Christmas carols rendered by a reggae band in the middle of a dust storm, you really haven’t lived.
Today, I’m going to do a little shopping, grade papers, drop by the US Embassy Library, and attend a meeting of the Liberian Association of Writers. After I finish this coffee.