Kathleen's Kilimanjaro Walk for Water - An overview of my Kilimanjaro trek in support of UNICEF, as well as thoughts about my overall trip to Tanzania and Zanzibar. Feel free to click on photo below to donate.
Click on the photo above to donate. It will take you to my UNICEF page.
Friday
Back to Real Tanzania
Africa has given a new meaning to the expression "traffic jam." Upon my arrival in Dar after my escape from reality in Zanzibar, I rediscovered the concept of pole-pole fast enough when I spent 3.5 hours in a "queue" to get onto the Kigamboni Ferry to cross the Dar es Salaam harbour.I use the term queue loosely. Several times, the intersections we attempted to cross were jam-packed with cars facing every which way, with no understandable logic behind their positioning. It was a veritable gridlock, with many instances of at least 10-15 minutes of moving forward about a cm at a time. It was probably nothing a few traffic lights couldn't solve.
Once I got to my destination 3-4 hours late, I put off the warm (but salty) shower I was so looking forward to because the showers were far from my banda on the beach, and it was dark, with electricity coming on and off randomly. Instead, I sat in the recreation area of the establishment and had my first and only meal of the day, with a cold beer to reward myself for my successful arrival. Worse things could have happened today, I thought. I even said something of the sort to a Dutch gentleman sitting nearby.
That's when the rain started to pour.
In general, rain in itself is harmless and not really worth writing about. But this time, it was only a few minutes before the recreation area was fully flooded. Soon after, the lights went out... for good. The owner of the place was devastated, saying the place had never flooded that badly in the last 3 years that she owned the place. She began (rather hopelessly) scooping water out of key areas, and though I knew her attempt was feeble, I decided to join in because it was better than sitting on my high chair and watching her. We must have looked ridiculous, with water up to our ankles, scooping water out with small containers, at a rate much slower than it was flooding in. But we were driven by the need to be of use, so we kept going.
At this point, the Dutch gentleman pulled out a camera and started taking pictures of me. He was bewildered at my good humour despite everything (all my luggage was soaked through because the bandas aren't fully water-proof) and didn't understand the pleasure I was taking in the whole ordeal. I was just happy to be back in contact with something resembling real life. It felt good to be on level ground with locals; being pampered as I had in the last few days had stripped me of my ability to express my resourcefulness and had made me feel really useless. The Dutch gentleman didn't know this. He didn't know this moment fed my desire to experience something genuine here.
I am thus very pleased with this return to real-life Dar es Salaam. Had it been any less eventful, I may even have been a little disappointed.
Kili Withdrawal
"Yes, we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know-
the place where the sidewalk ends."
-Shel Silverstein
I woke up at 6:30 am this morning half expecting the morning rituals of the mountain. Alas, no one tapped on my tent this morning and said, (in a Swahili accent) "Hello, did you sleep well?"; no one brought me a basin of warm water for "wash-wash"; no one unzipped my door to find out if I wanted tea or coffee that morning. Instead, I woke up in a comfy hotel bed, wishing I could hear the low foreign murmur of the porters' chatter, and feel the cool air as I slipped out of my sleeping bag and out of the tent, with a clear view of the mountain as far as the eye can see. Right now, I wish I could wander into the mess tent for a breakfast of that same liquidy porridge in the company of the people with whom I climbed this mountain: Janice, Alex, D, Liz, and yes, even Tim. I wish I could walk one last time into camp to the wide open smile of my porter, who didn't speak English, but expressed as much warmth without words as he could have with them. I wish, I wish, I wish...
This is what Kili withdrawal feels like.
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know-
the place where the sidewalk ends."
-Shel Silverstein
I woke up at 6:30 am this morning half expecting the morning rituals of the mountain. Alas, no one tapped on my tent this morning and said, (in a Swahili accent) "Hello, did you sleep well?"; no one brought me a basin of warm water for "wash-wash"; no one unzipped my door to find out if I wanted tea or coffee that morning. Instead, I woke up in a comfy hotel bed, wishing I could hear the low foreign murmur of the porters' chatter, and feel the cool air as I slipped out of my sleeping bag and out of the tent, with a clear view of the mountain as far as the eye can see. Right now, I wish I could wander into the mess tent for a breakfast of that same liquidy porridge in the company of the people with whom I climbed this mountain: Janice, Alex, D, Liz, and yes, even Tim. I wish I could walk one last time into camp to the wide open smile of my porter, who didn't speak English, but expressed as much warmth without words as he could have with them. I wish, I wish, I wish...
This is what Kili withdrawal feels like.
The Nightmare
An Overview
Exhaustion, nausea, and utter disbelief that you're finally there. These are the words to describe reaching Uhuru Peak, the top of Africa, at 7 am on a clear, sunny morning. After 7 hours (or more) of climbing in the middle of the night, there is just no room for the emotions you expected (elation, happiness, even relief.) It's more of an empty stillness that overtakes you as the knowledge that the nightmare is finally over sinks in. It's knowing all that feeling like s*** is over, but you're too tired to let any other emotion to take its place.
The real challenge of climbing Kili can be narrowed down to that last torturous night, setting out at 12 am to climb Kibo (the volcano seen on all the pictures, that is only really climbed upon on the final day.) ATR describes the summit climb as a nightmare. In hindsight, I think the description is quite accurate.
Getting to Gilman's
The climb to Gilman's was an unrelenting 5 hour struggle up a path of semi-frozen volcanic scree. In the dark, we could make out the lines of headlights of the other groups ahead. These little flickering lights did not come as a sign of hope, but rather as a dark reminder of the steep and endless trek ahead. At pit stops, people were throwing up, falling asleep, slumping in positions that would normally be considered quite unusual (and uncomfortable.) I myself felt sick as of about 5000 m, which means I felt crappy for a good 4-5 hours. All six of us wondered what kept us going that night. I know my answer is that I had it in my mind that I had to make it to Gilman's. Once there, the path would be less steep, and the sun would come up, giving us hope for the rest of the climb.
Still, getting there was hard, to say the least. I've never been so weak in my life. I even lost my sense of balance, and had it not been for the walking poles, I may just have fallen over. I had been sick in the days before the climb, so I think I was even weaker than weak. I'm not saying this to be a hero or to feel sorry for myself, but only to underline what great things our body can do if our mind wills it to. (At this point, I should mention that I couldn't have done it without Damas, one of the guides, who carried my pack soon after I started feeling nauseous.)
Rewarding Moments
Despite the difficulty of the climb, and despite my not being able to fully enjoy the benefits of reaching Uhuru Peak, that night did have its incredible moments. Arriving at Gilman's for one, was a a moment of pure joy and relief. It's the one moment I allowed myself to cry. Another great moment was the sunrise. When the sun came, it really did feel like the worst was over, and it gave me new energy. And finally, the absolute highlight of my climb was watching Liz, a girl of 18, who had thrown up twice on her way up, trudge those final steps in the new sunlight to the peak holding Damas' hand, which he had offered her for comfort. I wish I had taken a picture at that moment, but I was too far away, too tired. Still, whenever I think of Kili, that image of their silhouettes in the day's early sunlight will always come back to me. Climbing Kili will "kill" you, but with moments like that, it will also bring you back to life.
Exhaustion, nausea, and utter disbelief that you're finally there. These are the words to describe reaching Uhuru Peak, the top of Africa, at 7 am on a clear, sunny morning. After 7 hours (or more) of climbing in the middle of the night, there is just no room for the emotions you expected (elation, happiness, even relief.) It's more of an empty stillness that overtakes you as the knowledge that the nightmare is finally over sinks in. It's knowing all that feeling like s*** is over, but you're too tired to let any other emotion to take its place.
The real challenge of climbing Kili can be narrowed down to that last torturous night, setting out at 12 am to climb Kibo (the volcano seen on all the pictures, that is only really climbed upon on the final day.) ATR describes the summit climb as a nightmare. In hindsight, I think the description is quite accurate.
Getting to Gilman's
The climb to Gilman's was an unrelenting 5 hour struggle up a path of semi-frozen volcanic scree. In the dark, we could make out the lines of headlights of the other groups ahead. These little flickering lights did not come as a sign of hope, but rather as a dark reminder of the steep and endless trek ahead. At pit stops, people were throwing up, falling asleep, slumping in positions that would normally be considered quite unusual (and uncomfortable.) I myself felt sick as of about 5000 m, which means I felt crappy for a good 4-5 hours. All six of us wondered what kept us going that night. I know my answer is that I had it in my mind that I had to make it to Gilman's. Once there, the path would be less steep, and the sun would come up, giving us hope for the rest of the climb.
Still, getting there was hard, to say the least. I've never been so weak in my life. I even lost my sense of balance, and had it not been for the walking poles, I may just have fallen over. I had been sick in the days before the climb, so I think I was even weaker than weak. I'm not saying this to be a hero or to feel sorry for myself, but only to underline what great things our body can do if our mind wills it to. (At this point, I should mention that I couldn't have done it without Damas, one of the guides, who carried my pack soon after I started feeling nauseous.)
Rewarding Moments
Despite the difficulty of the climb, and despite my not being able to fully enjoy the benefits of reaching Uhuru Peak, that night did have its incredible moments. Arriving at Gilman's for one, was a a moment of pure joy and relief. It's the one moment I allowed myself to cry. Another great moment was the sunrise. When the sun came, it really did feel like the worst was over, and it gave me new energy. And finally, the absolute highlight of my climb was watching Liz, a girl of 18, who had thrown up twice on her way up, trudge those final steps in the new sunlight to the peak holding Damas' hand, which he had offered her for comfort. I wish I had taken a picture at that moment, but I was too far away, too tired. Still, whenever I think of Kili, that image of their silhouettes in the day's early sunlight will always come back to me. Climbing Kili will "kill" you, but with moments like that, it will also bring you back to life.
Walking for Water
Villagers think of water as a gift from God. But someone has to pay for it. Although water springs from the earth, pipes and pumps, alas, do not. -National Geographic, Water:Our Thirsty World
With only a day or so left until my walk for water, this is my final blog post. I've thought a lot about walking for water in the last few days, especially when lying in bed trying to get better and stronger for the climb.
National Geographic's special issue on WATER claims that "If the millions of women who haul water long distances had a faucet by their door, whole societies could be transformed (National Geographic: Water - Our Thirsty World)." That's how big the picture is.
One of the articles in the magazine describes the life of a young woman, Aylito Binayo, who quit school at the age of 8, in large part to help her mother fetch water: "The task of fetching water defines life for Binayo... Even at four in the morning she can run down the rocks to the river and climb the steep mountain back up to her village with 50 pounds of water on her back. She has made this journey three times a day for 25 years."
In total, Aylito walks about 8 hours a day for water. I'm walking so that somewhere in the world, young women (and in some cases young men) like her won't have to spend hours fetching water. Maybe those kids will go to school instead. Maybe they'll spend more time growing food. Maybe they'll raise more animals, or even start a small business. In any event, I hope that my small gesture will allow someone to have a better life.
With only a day or so left until my walk for water, this is my final blog post. I've thought a lot about walking for water in the last few days, especially when lying in bed trying to get better and stronger for the climb.
National Geographic's special issue on WATER claims that "If the millions of women who haul water long distances had a faucet by their door, whole societies could be transformed (National Geographic: Water - Our Thirsty World)." That's how big the picture is.
One of the articles in the magazine describes the life of a young woman, Aylito Binayo, who quit school at the age of 8, in large part to help her mother fetch water: "The task of fetching water defines life for Binayo... Even at four in the morning she can run down the rocks to the river and climb the steep mountain back up to her village with 50 pounds of water on her back. She has made this journey three times a day for 25 years."
In total, Aylito walks about 8 hours a day for water. I'm walking so that somewhere in the world, young women (and in some cases young men) like her won't have to spend hours fetching water. Maybe those kids will go to school instead. Maybe they'll spend more time growing food. Maybe they'll raise more animals, or even start a small business. In any event, I hope that my small gesture will allow someone to have a better life.
Back to Life!
(I have joined the world of the living. After about 48 hours of suffering from God-knows-what from the food, I’m on antibiotics and getting back on track. I’m fine, but feeling weak. Hopefully this will not affect my Kili climb… Here's a blog I wanted to post a few days ago, before I got sidetracked by health concerns.)
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Dec. 8th
One could come all the way to Africa and never come close to touching, feeling, smelling, living the real Africa. My musungu tour has begun. So far, I’ve been pampered and escorted every step of the way. Everything is in place so that a foreigner can feel as comfortable as back home. In the hotel where I stayed, there was hot water and even a bath tub, while in Sinza, there wasn’t even constant running water. The two are only a few kilometres apart.
I realise now how important my time in Dar was (and will be when I go back after my trek). I only wish it could have been longer, because the time I spent only gave me a glimpse of life in Sinza. This is life for Tanzanians, but it’s only fun and games for me.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Dec. 8th
One could come all the way to Africa and never come close to touching, feeling, smelling, living the real Africa. My musungu tour has begun. So far, I’ve been pampered and escorted every step of the way. Everything is in place so that a foreigner can feel as comfortable as back home. In the hotel where I stayed, there was hot water and even a bath tub, while in Sinza, there wasn’t even constant running water. The two are only a few kilometres apart.
I realise now how important my time in Dar was (and will be when I go back after my trek). I only wish it could have been longer, because the time I spent only gave me a glimpse of life in Sinza. This is life for Tanzanians, but it’s only fun and games for me.
Monday
Mzungu in Africa
There is a simple hand-washing ritual that is done before any Tanzanian meal. Doesn't matter whether you're sitting down for a formal dinner, or whether it's 4:30 am and you're ordering chipsi na kuku(chicken & chips) at the "fast food" place after a night on the town. It's the same every time: someone brings a basin and pitcher and pours water over your hands til they're clean... and then you can eat.
I have to remove myself from the present moment and look at myself from above to realise that all this is happening. After once or twice, the hand-washing was already natural. It's bizzare how easily you can forget that you are in Africa, riding a jam-packed dala dala with music blaring; or how easy it is to forget that you're at the market, with the thick, pungent smell of sweat, garbage, and fried food filling your nose; or that you're at the beach watching little kids running around, splashing in the water, giggling and chanting in swahili. You quickly become absorbed in- and a part of- what you're living.
Today it's extremely hot, so I'm living the pole-pole life (slow). But though I am taking it easy, time is going by very fast, and all the while I am having to constantly remind myself that I'm in Tanzania. Soon, I'll be back with you all, and this episode of my life will be remembered as a dream.
___________________________________________________________________________
Anecdotes:
1. The other night at Boona Baana, Beatrice, Maria(dadas=housemothers) Thekla(German volunteer) and the kids were doing weights in the back yard! I can't wait to post pictures of this. They have a bar with two cement blocks at the end and I attempted to show them how to do a power clean... it was HILARIOUS. A few of the kids caught on, as did Thekla... great fun.
2. Here, I am known as Mzungu, which I guess means white person. At the market, I obviously often get Mzungu prices, and I also get waved to and pointed at alot. I suppose I will get used to it.
3. I will post some photos, but I often hesitate to take my camera out, for two reasons. First, I don't want to be too invasive at Boona Baana. And second, when I'm out and about, I don't want to be singled out by thieves. Yesterday, I caught a guy stealing from Thekla at the market place,so I smacked his arm and yelled "HEY," and he ran off... empty handed! :)
CHECK MY Facebook PICTURES! There aren't many because I got a virus on my camera, but there are a few goodies.
I have to remove myself from the present moment and look at myself from above to realise that all this is happening. After once or twice, the hand-washing was already natural. It's bizzare how easily you can forget that you are in Africa, riding a jam-packed dala dala with music blaring; or how easy it is to forget that you're at the market, with the thick, pungent smell of sweat, garbage, and fried food filling your nose; or that you're at the beach watching little kids running around, splashing in the water, giggling and chanting in swahili. You quickly become absorbed in- and a part of- what you're living.
Today it's extremely hot, so I'm living the pole-pole life (slow). But though I am taking it easy, time is going by very fast, and all the while I am having to constantly remind myself that I'm in Tanzania. Soon, I'll be back with you all, and this episode of my life will be remembered as a dream.
___________________________________________________________________________
Anecdotes:
1. The other night at Boona Baana, Beatrice, Maria(dadas=housemothers) Thekla(German volunteer) and the kids were doing weights in the back yard! I can't wait to post pictures of this. They have a bar with two cement blocks at the end and I attempted to show them how to do a power clean... it was HILARIOUS. A few of the kids caught on, as did Thekla... great fun.
2. Here, I am known as Mzungu, which I guess means white person. At the market, I obviously often get Mzungu prices, and I also get waved to and pointed at alot. I suppose I will get used to it.
3. I will post some photos, but I often hesitate to take my camera out, for two reasons. First, I don't want to be too invasive at Boona Baana. And second, when I'm out and about, I don't want to be singled out by thieves. Yesterday, I caught a guy stealing from Thekla at the market place,so I smacked his arm and yelled "HEY," and he ran off... empty handed! :)
CHECK MY Facebook PICTURES! There aren't many because I got a virus on my camera, but there are a few goodies.
Friday
First Impressions
Arrived at the aiport and Marco, the Boona Baana co-ordinator, was there waiting for me, with the oldest child, Linus, who is not really a child at all (16 years old.) More about him later.The drive from the airport was pretty eventless, but I did get my first glimpse of the merchant shacks and bonfires on the side of the street, the dusty, bumpy, road, the rusty cars...
I am staying at a simple and comfortable lodge, with some running water (sometimes) and some electricity (most of the time.) But obviously, the computers on a bigger street are working, because here I am typing to you from Africa! Some places have generators, but the water and electricity situation is unstable, because they use hydroelectricity, and it is still very dry, even after the short rains.
Boona Baana is a short walk away from the guest house. I went and spent the afternoon there with the kids. I had my first Tanzanian meal, ugali and fish with an unknown vegetable. Ugali is a form of starch, starts out as powder and water and becomes a paste.
There are two German girls working here for a year... they're really nice and friendly, and it's great because they are a great contact (they showed me this internet shop.) I'll probably be hanging out with them when I'm not at the center.
Now for the kids! The first teenager I met, Linus, is a very smart kid. Last month, he went to Rwanda with UNICEF Tanzania to discuss children's issues. He showed me the pictures of him at the conference, and explained that only 2 children from Tanzania were chosen to go, and he was one of them. But he wasn't bragging about it, though I could tell he was proud.
As for the others, I discovered they have a common love for Enrique Iglesias. We listened to video clips of him on loop this afternoon. I love how all of them are always giggling and dancing and making fun of whatever there is there is to make fun of.
I think I'm going to like it here, though I am hungry all the time. But anyone who knows me knows it doesn't take much for me to be starving! Sorry my thoughts are all disorganised, I have little time on the computer. More later.
I am staying at a simple and comfortable lodge, with some running water (sometimes) and some electricity (most of the time.) But obviously, the computers on a bigger street are working, because here I am typing to you from Africa! Some places have generators, but the water and electricity situation is unstable, because they use hydroelectricity, and it is still very dry, even after the short rains.
Boona Baana is a short walk away from the guest house. I went and spent the afternoon there with the kids. I had my first Tanzanian meal, ugali and fish with an unknown vegetable. Ugali is a form of starch, starts out as powder and water and becomes a paste.
There are two German girls working here for a year... they're really nice and friendly, and it's great because they are a great contact (they showed me this internet shop.) I'll probably be hanging out with them when I'm not at the center.
Now for the kids! The first teenager I met, Linus, is a very smart kid. Last month, he went to Rwanda with UNICEF Tanzania to discuss children's issues. He showed me the pictures of him at the conference, and explained that only 2 children from Tanzania were chosen to go, and he was one of them. But he wasn't bragging about it, though I could tell he was proud.
As for the others, I discovered they have a common love for Enrique Iglesias. We listened to video clips of him on loop this afternoon. I love how all of them are always giggling and dancing and making fun of whatever there is there is to make fun of.
I think I'm going to like it here, though I am hungry all the time. But anyone who knows me knows it doesn't take much for me to be starving! Sorry my thoughts are all disorganised, I have little time on the computer. More later.
Tuesday
Tanzania Time
1:13 am and I still haven't finished all my packing. The screen is blurry from the fatigue so I doubt I'll be able to write anything very interesting. I just want to say goodnight and goodbye and wish me luck! I will blog and inform you all as much as possible, although I doubt that will be very much. But I promise I'll try.
A lot of people called me tonight to know how I'm feeling. I'm just so tired from the last few days, so wired from packing and thinking and re-thinking and planning, that there hasn't been much room for much more than the here and now. The next minute, the next item, the next task.
I can't really say right now that I'm SUPER excited, only that I feel that I'm on the verge of something big, sort of like standing on the edge of a cliff, or maybe more like standing on top of Mount Kilimanjaro.
Thank you to everyone who has contributed to the Walk for Water, and to everyone who has sent me words of encouragement recently. See you all later!
A lot of people called me tonight to know how I'm feeling. I'm just so tired from the last few days, so wired from packing and thinking and re-thinking and planning, that there hasn't been much room for much more than the here and now. The next minute, the next item, the next task.
I can't really say right now that I'm SUPER excited, only that I feel that I'm on the verge of something big, sort of like standing on the edge of a cliff, or maybe more like standing on top of Mount Kilimanjaro.
Thank you to everyone who has contributed to the Walk for Water, and to everyone who has sent me words of encouragement recently. See you all later!
Thursday
Get Over Yourself
Just got home from the store with almost $200-worth of pharmaceuticals/prescriptions in tow. I am both shocked (at how much money I spent) and exhausted. I felt a little bit crazy and paranoid walking around the store for over an hour, consulting and picking things off the shelves in case of headaches, diarrhea, lice, yeast infection, malaria, altitude sickness, sunburn, allergies, and what have you. Somewhere between the Diclofenac and the Antihistimines, I began to feel guilty.
I think the feeling comes from the fact that no matter how hard I might try to live the “African Experience,” I’m always going to be a conventional White North American in Africa, vaccinations and all. I’m not sure why what I am makes me feel guilty!
I think the feeling comes from the fact that no matter how hard I might try to live the “African Experience,” I’m always going to be a conventional White North American in Africa, vaccinations and all. I’m not sure why what I am makes me feel guilty!
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