By Emmanuel Sossou – Features Editor 

As strange as this may read, I am a son of the sun. I was born in the West African country of Benin, a key-shaped territory that stretches out into the Gulf of Guinea. There, not only the land bathes in the sun, but so do the people who inhabit it. Being located near the equator, Benin harbours the sun’s rays for most of the day and offers a warm tropical climate all year round with temperatures ranging from 18 to 35 C. 

The migration from such a tropical climate to Quebec, which is reputed for its cold winters, can certainly be a shock for most people. For a ten-year-old boy who had never seen the snow, I was in awe at my very first snowfall; I can still picture myself moving about and dancing out of excitement. 

What I didn’t fully grasp, however, at the time, were the implications of this beauty. With the snow came the cold, the necessity to shovel, car shelters that had to be set up, all these cumbersome warm clothing and much more. The arrival of the snow also meant that the sun would be taking its leave for the next few months, the days becoming shorter. And so, during the years that followed this migration and during the first half of my teenage years, I dreaded the wintertime. 

Now, my relationship with this season of the year has drastically changed since then. I now believe that there needs to be that wintertime first in order for the sun to shine that brightly in the ensuing months. The wintertime indeed acts as a foundation and lays the groundwork for everything that follows throughout the year. 

It was only towards the end of my teenage years that I eventually began to embrace this time of the year. Somehow, the cold season had managed to work her charms on me. I no longer despised having to shovel after a snowfall or a snowstorm. On the contrary, I now enjoy it as it helps me stay in shape. And while I was still reluctant at the idea of having to set up car shelters come this time of the year, I began to see it as the father-son ritual that it was. The crystal-clear night skies that are provided in the wintertime also made me see the season in its own light — as a season of its own and a much-needed time for Mother Earth, at least in this region of the world.

Thus has the cold season become ingrained in me. Me, a son of the sun. 

Hivernité, a French neologism coined by the late Canadian geographer Louis-Edmond Hamelin, describes at best what I now consider to be an inherent part of me.

I remain, nonetheless, a son of the sun at the core, a fact that the cold season’s winter blues never fail to remind me of. In this season of the year, I often find myself longing for the sun and the feeling of its warmth on my skin. Like an avid sunseeker, I seize every opportunity to soak myself in its rays; I’ve been taken aback by how rejuvenating it is for me. 

That is why I find myself in the woods on a beautiful sunny day of February; and while I am delighted, it feels like a poisoned gift. The beaming sun and the nine degrees Celsius that accompany it, feel off and out of place. I know I am not the only one. Those of us who have been living here for some years now must have noticed too – how un-wintery this winter has been. February is supposed to be one of the coldest months of the year and yet, this winter has recorded some of the warmest temperatures. 

As climate change continues to escalate, I fear that it’s a trend that we, the people of the north, may have to get used to. And as I enjoy this sunlight, I can’t help but wonder about what will become of this hivernité. Of Quebec. Of Canada. After all, Quebec is winter and so is Canada. 

HIVERNITÉ – Fait, état, qualité de l’hiver et de l’hivernie, perçus et vécus.