While in a classroom, I got of a whiff of grass. The scent to my nostrils brought a picture of fresh grass to my mind. For a second, I wasn’t in Niger. I was enjoying a summer day with a glass of lemonade while lying in nature’s green bed.
Putting sunscreen on screws with my head. The smell of SPF takes me to the beach or a pool with good friends. I’m in a swimsuit and anxiously waiting that first encounter with the cool water. After a moment, I am disappointed as I am brought back to my hut. There is sand but definitely no beach.
Sauces are the savior of Nigerien food, but there aren’t always starlets. When my host mother served rice with a particular green sauce that I don’t like, I grabbed a $2.50 bottle of soy sauce that traveled with me from the U.S. to Niger.
I oped the top and the brow liquid emitted an aroma that floods my thoughts with memories of sushi dates with friends. Sushi was our tradition after an Ipso events and this sauces reminds me of falling in love with Soulcrate during a three-minute drive from Fresh Produce to Tokyo in Lucy’s car one wintery Friday night. I eat my meal fast to avoid that missing feeling that takes over my body.
There are some unpleasant smells in these country, but these three are the worst because thy evoke an entire experience.