Before leaving for Jos in November 2008, I heard a lot about the temperature of that part of Nigeria. Jos is the capital city of Plateau State. The state derived its name from its height above sea level. Being higher than other residential parts of the country, it comes with relatively severe cold weather at the peak of the Hamatan period.
Each time my cousin told me about the coping mechanism the residents of Jos were adopting, I shrouded it off.
"No matter the cold, I can't bathe in warm water. Warm water is for the elderly and sick," I told him in one of our conversations back in Ekiti.
In Ekiti State, which is relatively warmer than Plateau, kids of my age bracket took pride in bathing in cold water irrespective of the weather. My mother would prepare warm water for me many times, but I would quietly swap it with cold one. I enjoyed bathing in cold water, whether at the peak of hamatan or the rainy season.
On the eve of my departure, my mom called me aside to warn me about maintaining healthy habits in Jos.
"There is a report that Jos is freezing cold now. I spoke with your cousin yesterday, and he told me that they are at the peak of hamatan. Please don't play with your health. Don't expose your body to cold." She repeated the last sentence before handing over two sweaters to me. "Always protect yourself with this. I will send you money to buy more sweaters in the coming weeks. More importantly, don't bathe in cold water in Jos." She held her right ear and repeated the warning. "Excessive exposure to cold weather kills. Please, protect yourself," she pleaded again.
I kneeled down to appreciate her for her kind gesture. My parents were the best of parents that I can ever wish to have. They didn't joke with the welfare of my siblings and me while I was growing up.
The following morning, I boarded a vehicle for the eight-hour journey.
From what I have heard about the weather, I didn't need someone to tell me that we were approaching Jos when I observed a total change in weather. The road at the point was elevating. The vehicle spent about thirty minutes climbing the road constructed in-between hills. I commended the engineers that built the road. The rocks were broken to pave the way for the road. The mood in the vehicle changed. A passenger with a small kid wore the child a thicker sweater.
"It's obvious we are approaching the plateau now," I told myself.
After a few minutes, we got to a village. I looked out for a sign board to identify where we were. "Riyom local government area of plateau state."
My cousin was at the park to receive me. He was in a hoodie. His hands were in gloves, and his nose was covered with a mask. I could barely recognize him.
"Welcome to Jos," he removed his nose mask and hugged me.
Everywhere in the park were Mai Shai, tea and bread vendors. The people were warming up their system with hot tea.
On arriving home, my cousin echoed what my mom told me before leaving Ekiti. It was as if he was there when my mom was giving me those words of warning mixed with plea.
"Please don't expose your body to cold weather and don't bathe with cold water. These are the necessary precautionary measures. Excessive exposure to cold can kill. Don't play with it."
I didn't heed their warnings and advice. I was bathing in cold water. I felt satisfied each time I took my bath with cold water. My cousin continued to warn me against such a habit.
"This thing may be causing havoc to your system internally without your immediate knowledge. It may have caused a lot of damage before you realized any symptom."
I didn't heed his advice.
Another day, he reminded me of the temperature difference between Ekiti and Jos.
"Ekiti did witness about 22°C at the peak of Hamatan, while the temperature in Jos now is 11°C. Don't judge both places with the same standard."
A few days after our last conversation regarding the weather, I noticed my skin swollen and itchy. Over the night, I developed shallow breathing, and my skin color began to change. My cousin noticed the sudden change, and I was rushed to the university clinic. I couldn't express myself fluently when the doctor asked me a few questions about how I was feeling. My speech was slurred.
I was diagnosed with severe hypothermia. I can't remember what the efforts of the doctor were to bring me back to wellness. At a point, I lost consciousness.
"You've exposed yourself to cold for too long. Your body temperature dropped to below normal," said the doctor who stood by my bed in the hospital ward.
My cousin was standing behind him, nodding his head to all that the doctor was saying.
"You may feel convenient exposing your body to cold, but inside your system, you can't say about the damages happening," the doctor continued. "I hope you do take your bath with warm water!"
"That is the cruise of the matter," my cousin cuts in. "It's taboo for him to bathe with warm water. I warned him and even begged him in some instances to no avail."
"Young man," the doctor turned to me. "Don't risk your life with careless habits. You are lucky that you responded to treatment commendably. Many people have died of this problem. This experience should serve as a wakeup call to you. Don't play with your health. The cold in Jos is more severe than any other part of the country. Coming to Jos, you need to adopt the coping mechanisms of the people you met on the ground."
At this point, I heeded the voice of reasoning. The experience indeed served as a wakeup call to me. I started protecting myself against cold and adopted bathing with warm water as part of me.
Till this present moment, I don't joke with making adjustments to my lifestyle when necessary to live a healthier life.
