CHAPTER 13I PUT YOU DOWN
We were well into the dry season in Liberia and could expect good flying weather most days, except for when the Harmattan wind hit. When conditions are right, it blows down from the Sahara Desert and brings a blinding, choking dust that looks more like a yellow fog. It grounds everything that flies—even the birds. It gets in your throat, clogs your nostrils, and contaminates the food and water. It penetrates anywhere there is a c***k big enough for a microscopic particle to get through.
This gritty veil of dust could wax and wane with any particular day or hour. It could roll in at any time during the dry season, and all of Monrovia would be forced to wait it out. This time it came up as I was headed to the airfield. I quickly turned and started back for Lilly’s.
