Mount Kilimanjaro

(My fellow Uhurian and UNEPer, Fanina Kodre, took the first six photos on this page).

When you ‘re planning to blog about a journey to the top of a mountain, it would seem logical to start at the beginning. I’m going to start before the beginning, then jump to the end, and the see where it goes from there. Enjoy!

Kibera, the largest slum in Africa, is estimated to be one million strong. The name Kibera comes from a Nubian word meaning “forest” or “jungle” (so says wikipedia). This infamous urban jungle is less than 15 minutes from my house in Kenya. I’ve never been inside.

How, you’re wondering, does this have anything to do with the climb?

I went up Kili with an NGO called the Kilimanjaro Initiative. Every year they bring people from the private sector, the public sector, and disadvantaged “youth” (20-somethings) from the slums of East Africa.

So how does a white girl from a nice Atlanta neighborhood interact with people who grew up in a slum with a million others, no running water, and crime around every corner? I thought my inner-city public high school experience would help, but I knew that this was a completely different level.And that’s exactly the point.

As the founder of the NGO said, “the mountain puts everyone on equal footing and it’s more about the journey than the destination”. This trip was most definitely about the journey. And my final steps to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro summit couldn’t have been a better example.

With the summit in sight, I stopped 100 yards away, content to take some photos and head back down. A few climbers approached and rationalized with me that it really wasn’t THAT much further. And it wasn’t. But MY GOD, I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes, I was sleep walking and I worried that a sudden back spasm would render me “finished” on this mountain. I think my exact words were something along these lines: “It’s just my ego that says I have to get to the top. I can see it. I don’t care. It’s right there. I’m over it.”

And then Mohamed came along.

He said nothing, took my hand, and we walked hand-in-hand, step-by-step to the summit. Mohamed Abdulahi Mohamed, is a former petty criminal who has lived his entire life in Kibera. In a pre-hike interview, he showed me with his own hands how he used to sneak up behind people, grab them around the neck, strangle them and rob them.

Now he was using those same hands to help me achieve my goal – and I was doing the same in return. We needed each other, and we reached the top together.

And it was like that with everyone. The mountain does put you level footing. So whether it was youth from Kibera or consultants from Nairobi or executives from NYC – we ALL bonded, we ALL helped each other up the mountain, and we ALL shared the experience together.

This was one of the most rewarding challenges of my life. And that same sentiment was echoed from all fellow climbers.

I have to mention the other reasons I made it to the top. My guide, Jofre, who stuck with me all week and helped carry the video camera. He also poured water in my mouth, traded gloves with me, and made sure I got to the top safely. There was also Tom, my new “Chachin” (Indian big brother) whose footsteps I followed for the majority of the final ascent. We were a train, with Tom in front, myself in the middle, and another New Yorker named Mitzie in the back. Each one continued to follow the others’ footsteps and didn’t stop because they knew someone behind them depended on them.

Okay, so enough about the emotional side of the hike.

The scenery was UNREAL!!! You begin in a jungle, then go through alpine trees (pines, etc), then through a long grass area. This is where you see Mawenzi (Kili’s little brother) and Kili They seem far off and intimidating. Mawenzi looks like Mount Doom and you dread knowing that Kili is much more daunting.

Then you reach the high altitude tundra. It’s the saddle between the two peaks. It’s a bit like what I imagine Mars to look like - reddish rocks, a desolate landscape, the whole nine yards. We were especially luckily to get a hailstorm while slowly making our way across the saddle, which conveniently offered no cover.

When you reach Kibo – the last hut, you’re exhausted and nervous. Your adrenaline is the really only thing that keeps you going. The good thing about the summit is that you go at night, so you can’t see it. But you arrive during the day and wonder – how on EARTH am I going to get up there?

Then you eat, and “sleep” for four hours from 7 pm until 11 pm. You’re told to sleep in your under layers and lay everything out so in your altitude-compromised state of mind, you don’t forget your gloves or something. The whole “pre-summit pep-talk” was really intimidating to say the least. But you’re already at 13,000 feet, where are you going to go?

So I settled in to doze and inevitably had to go to the bathroom, went outside (yes. That means into the 20 below weather) and promptly entered a thunderstorm complete with thunder, lightning, and snow. There was no way we would have gone for the summit had the storm continued, but luckily it broke and we had beautiful stars to guide us to Africa’s rooftop.

That’s the long and the short of it. The climb up Kilimanjaro was tougher and more rewarding than I ever could have imagined. I sincerely hope and believe that I will keep some of the friends I made on the mountain for a lifetime. And as a fellow climber said, “I think it might be delayed altitude sickness… but I want to do it again.”

If you’re going to hike Kili, do it with the Kilimanjaro Initiative. There is no better way.

~ EKY V.