CLIMBING MOUNTAINS

My brother Josh and I just finished climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. What an experience! We spent 4 days walking to get to the summit camp. On the fourth night, you go to sleep for a few hours (or in my case you lie awake considering every single possible summit scenario), then wake at 11pm to begin the summit climb at midnight. We arrived as the sun was coming up. The climbing is intense, 6 hours at high altitudes in the wee hours of morning is tough but kind of cool too. It's very meditative when all you do is focus on following the feet in front of you and keeping to a snails pace of plodding. I loved being at the top but every extremity I have was frozen, so I couldn't move to take pictures or do much of anything really. Someone did take pictures and all you can see are my eyes because I couldn't remove any gear. One of our group did get altitude sickness, kept climbing and literally had to be held up and escorted by porters for the rest of the day. He said it was as if he was sleeping while climbing. At one point he almost stumbled off the mountain. Good thing he didn't. Our group consisted of Josh and I, two guys from Norway and a father and daughter team from Denmark...we were a turtle machine. We never hiked quickly, "pole pole" (slowly, slowly) is the way to acclimatize and not waste energy-but we were steady. The climb was good but hanging with such good people for 6 days was even better.

I said my goodbyes at the village before we climbed. The kids sang and danced and my brother was able to get a snapshot of life in Kiyunga. The organized goodbyes were good but the farewell that will stay in my heart forever happened quietly and without too much preplanning. There are about a dozen village kids that come to my place in the evenings to color, hang out, eat, whatever... Some of them run with me too. We had a little party the night before I left, they dressed up in their finest, we drank sodas...it was fun. But the next night, they all showed up again, again dressed in their finest and one by one they came up to me and gave me an egg. I don't know why and I don't know how they organized themselves to do this but it was a genuine goodbye. I felt like they were saying goodbye to me, not to the volunteer that gives out cool stuff or the white girl that lives in town. For some reason, it meant so much to me...and it still does.

I don't know what this whole experience 'means' yet. Sometimes I can't see the purpose in my being here and I wonder whether it was worth it. I know my view of the world is changed forever and some parts of that lost worldview, I want back. But other moments, I'll remember Pelagia or I'll think of Akilam and how he didn't flinch at hugs by the time I left. Or I'll think of Stuart, looking so oldmanish in his thick glasses or Michelle and all the laughs we shared and I'll think, I wouldn't have missed this for the world. I don't have a clue whether or not I truly changed a single person's life or impacted Kiyunga but I know, without a doubt, that Pelagia, Akilam, Stuart, Michelle...they changed my life. My heart has opened wider to make room for people who live on the other side of the world.

I remember this girl I used to be, I even picture myself in my favorite red shirt, laughing, so brave and full of confidence. I can't find her right now...in fact I don't know if I can ever actually get back to her. But maybe in the future, I can begin to feel more comfortable in this new set of skin I've developed here. And maybe one day, I'll be wearing that red shirt again, laughing, so brave and full of confidence but there will be something new in my eyes, something indefinable that I found in myself during those moments when I was on my own in the World, scared, beaten and not sure how I could keep going. Because I did find a new power within myself and it depends on no human and no material thing.

This blog, this experience in Africa was supposed to end with inspirational stories detailing the things I achieved here and if asked, I could probably say something that sounded pretty good. But I don't want to...because the truth isn't that simple. This was hard, and painful and neither I nor my experiences here were always inspirational. There were good times, dark times and desperate times and the thought that is loudest in my head right now is...I want to go home. I miss my friends and my family and I appreciate more than I ever have, how nice it is to be a part of a community and feel like I belong. And from my experience here, I suspect that people all over the world feel the same way. Even if you live in dire straits in rural Africa, hungry and surviving day to day...you still want to be with the people you love and in a place that feels like home. Of course, I'll get home...stay for 6 months and then start dreaming up my next adventure. This crazy noggin of mine.