red like sunshine

You would think that after 18 months on this island, I’d have figured out how to not get burned by the sun that shines brightly every second of the day. You would think. And in a way I have. I’m pretty good about sunscreen. Plus I have a base tan that seems to be handy when I accidentally put myself in the sun more than usual.

But then again, I DID spend a sunless month in the United States. I mean, the snow followed me—Minneapolis, DC, New York, back to Minneapolis. I know I’ve been a long-time supporter of winter and snowflakes and general coldness. But you’d think the weather would have taken into account that—based on the heat I’ve been experiencing for well over a year—a little chilliness would be appreciated. More than that and I’m now a pansy. Sad, I know, but true.

Let’s get to the point. After that month in the States, I walked an hour to a beach (in the sun) then spent hours on the beach to make the walk worth it then walked an hour back home (still in the sun). I tried using sunscreen, but I was doomed from the get-go. I also blame the fact that it was so hot I had to swim often, probably removing all the sunscreen I honestly did put on.

The moral of the story: I ended the day red as a lobster, generating heat for all around me. That’s right—no electricity and no fan, but I DO have my own personal heater, also known as my skin. The shower was freezing by comparison and even a little breeze made me shiver from the comparison. I woke in the morning with slightly swollen eyelids—their way of drawing my attention to the fact that they too got burned.

The red has basically faded. Everyone is a bit confused. First of all, I’m told that I’ve lost weight. My town is more reliable than a scale. They’re more vocal when I gain weight (usually it’s after I’ve lost some), saying things like, “Oh thank goodness! You were looking like a skeleton!” But a couple trusted people (Ramose and my proviseur aka principal—note: yes I realize it is strange that though she is my best friend in Mahabo, I call her my proviseur instead of by her name—I can’t help it—she’s still my boss, even if we do drink beer and go dancing together) will tell me when weight.

So I get back to Mahabo and they say, “You’ve lost weight!” I say that it’s a possibility. They look confused and then add, “Weren’t you in America?” Uh . . . yup. Though in my defense, I’m sure the weight loss occurred after I got back to Africa. So then my proviseur looks at me again and says, “And you’re tan!” She pauses again, confused, then adds, “Was there actually sunshine there?” And this is when I say, “No no—this isn’t tan—this is the aftermath of very very red.”

This story has no point except to say that being sunburned makes you very warm. And afterwards you have to deal not so much with peeling but with the random ridding of patches of dead skin. Lovely. Also don’t lose weight when you go on vacation in America. Or once you get back before people have seen you. Everyone will think you’re crazy.