Everyone finished packing for Kilimanjaro the night before. Except me; I started packing at 6 AM the morning of, two hours before our set departure. Fortunately, our climbing crew was running on Africa time, and by the time the big white bus was honking outside the hostel gate, all my long underwear, socks, and patagonias were either in my new rucksack or my purple duffel. Baggage was piled on the roof, the rest of us were piled inside, and off we drove. The speedometer never dipped below 55, and we overtook several herds of cows.
After eating some sandwiches and using a flush toilet one last time, we put our packs on, and Mark; Sean, Alex, Remy, Meimei, Noah, Rory, Taylor, Emmaus, and I headed off, bringing three months of planning and a bucket list dream into fruition.
We had five guides: Hassan was the leader, soft spoken and very calm; he could tell if you have altitude sickness just by looking at your face. Baracka looked like he was 21 but was actually ten years older; he had a great voice, incredible stories of past clients, Obama-tier inspirational speeches, and a 1:07 half marathon PR. Amini would help us up when we fell, take our poles during rocky ascents, and spent 75% of the hike wearing sketchers slip ons (out of choice, not necessity). Achi wrote a poem about Meimei and taught us all the Hakuna Mata song; he also had an amazing arm and showed us how to properly throw rocks, leading by example. Frederick was more quiet and reserved and didn’t know much English, but he was a great comrade nonetheless. A couple other characters include: Saloom, who only knew 3 words in English – food, power, and mountain – but didn’t let such a handicap prevent him from talking non-stop; Elie the cook, who would let Meimei and I join him in the warm and toasty cook tent – we’d sit on downturned water buckets and try to learn Swahili; and of course Furaha, who, even though she didn’t climb with us, drove several hours to the airport twice to pick up lost luggage, invited us out to dinner our first night in Arusha, helped us get COVID tested before we left, and otherwise was so amazing that we will never forget her and hope she is blessed like Ephriam and Manasseh.
For the first five days, the hiking was smooth and easy and spirits were high. As a general rule, sleeping bags are cold and uncomfortable when you first crawl in, even colder in the middle of the night, but deliciously warm and snuggly by morning. This thematic pattern boded poorly for 6:30 AM wakeup calls, but consolation came in the form of warm water brought right outside our tents – “welcome to water for washing,” the porters would announce – and steaming ginger tea which we would sip while packing up our sleeping things. Breakfast was served in the green mess tent, and featured two courses: millet porridge followed by omelettes, crepes and white, untoasted bread. Most people’s appetite varied throughout the hike, but never Mark’s. He always ate a huge breakfast, plus all the vegetarians’ sausages, and an assortment of other food scraps. I aspire to his level.
After breakfast, I’d change out of my ski coat and go to the squatty potty. This ritual was frequently communal, which made it more fun, and also had the effect of normalizing all poop talk. Since the squatty potty experience was uncomfortable and occasionally painful, we would practice empathy by asking each other, “how’d your poop go?” – it was just common decency.
Some might not be surprised to hear that I was frequently late, and got left by the rest of the group every single morning without fail. Things just took longer than I expected them to, whether that be changing out of my warm sleeping layers into yesterday’s semi-damp hiking gear, or trying to zip my bulging backpack closed, or finding my toilet paper. Achi or Amini usually would stay behind and escort me back to the company ahead. “Last as normal, Asher,” they’d say and shake their heads pityingly. The other porters picked up on it too, and were very impressed by my day-in day-out consistency. So they all clapped and cheered on the last day when I victoriously headed off with the rest of the group for the first time.
We hiked between four to six hours each day, going pole pole – slowly, slowly in Swahili – the whole time. The porters did not go pole pole, so by the time we got to camp everyday, a hot lunch would be waiting for us, the tents would be set up, and all we had to do was trudge into camp and say ‘asante sana’ (thank you very much). Lunch and dinner always consisted of either rice or pasta, over which we’d pour Tanzanian vegetable stew or other similar sauces featuring beef or chicken. Every now and then we’d get ugali (a corn starch based carbohydrate) and fresh pineapple. Everything was delicious, but now, looking back, I don’t think I can eat vegetable stew ever again without getting altitude sickness.
We hiked through a different biome every day. We started out in the lush, green rainforest, and made our way through heather moorland – featuring scrubby bushes and some lichen – alpine desert, and then just rocks and patches of snow. But while our immediate surroundings changed, we found consistency in the weather. The mornings were beautiful and clear, but at noon exactly, the clouds and mist would roll in and the rain would start. By the time we arrived at camp in the mid afternoon, the rain would let up, the clouds would part, and everyone would lay their wet clothes out to dry.
On day five, we arrived at Karanga base camp, just as it started snowing. We snacked for a while on the Tootsie Rolls, Cliff Bars, and fruits strips Emmaus brought (he’d rationed out the snacks in ten daily portions and gave each of us a personal quota), before eating a quick lunch, and then heading to our tents to rest. Two hours later, we were sitting in the mess tent, having an early dinner. Saloom explained that “food is POWER” and we needed as much of it as we could for the long climb ahead: tonight was summit night. As we finished our banana fritters, our guides piled in and gave us the summit briefing. Baracka was our hypeman. He looked each of us in the eyes, stared into our souls, and reminded us of how far we’d come, and how, with just one more push, we’d come to our journey’s culmination. “In a couple hours,” he said, “we’ll be at the top, we’ll take photos at the sign, and we’ll make lifetime memories.”
Maybe Baracka’s speech was just too inspiring, or maybe I was nervous, or maybe I just wasn’t tired after sleeping all afternoon; but I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The melatonin just never hit, and by the time Saloom woke us up at 11:00 PM, I was fully conscious and ready to go. An hour later, we stood in the freezing darkness kitted out in full blizzard gear, the swirling snow illuminated by our head torch beams. And thus we headed out. Noah, Meimei, Alex, and I started a call and response marching song that we made up along the way, but that died pretty quickly when we started breathing hard. So instead, I put my earbuds in, and chugged along listening to Barack Obama’s ‘A Promised Land’.
I felt great for the first two hours, but things started to get tough after that. My head started throbbing, I felt woozy and couldn’t keep my eyes open. Whenever we stopped for a moment so Hassan could find the right trail, I fell asleep against Mark’s snow-covered backpack, only to pry my eyes back open and start climbing again a second later. Hassan would call a break every hour or so, and we’d huddle against some outcropping rocks and sip hot ginger tea. But stopping didn’t bring relief – in fact, sitting down made things worse – and I realized that there was only one way out: to keep on going. So I ignored everything except Back Obama’s narration, focused on breathing, and marched on through the snow for another 4 hours. It reminded me of cross country.
The morning dawned just as we reached the rim of the crater. To our left and a little behind us the sun rose over an ocean of white clouds, crowning the great blue sky with a halo of red, orange, and gold. Ahead of us, a single glacial ridge protruded from the cloud cover below, ancient battlements fortifying the vast volcanic crater to our right. And so, for the next hour, we tramped on through the Narnia winter, and, at 7 AM, we finally reached the summit. There isn’t much on top of Mount Kilimanjaro: just a congratulatory sign and snowy wasteland, not a footprint to be seen. A kingdom of isolation, and it looks like I’m the… well each of us definitely did feel like queens. We hugged, smiled, took pictures – I celebrated by sitting down for a while – and then, fifteen minutes later, we were heading back down again, the same way we’d come up. In two hours, we made it back down to base camp, and in another five, we reached our campsite, where my altitude sickness subsided and we slept like rocks.
Everything happened so quickly and I was so exhausted, that I never took a moment to breathe and take stock of the experience. To appreciate the unique privilege of this adventure, and to practice some gratitude. Not only was I an American college student traveling for free to countries characterised by corrupt governments and mass unemployment, but I was doing so in the middle of a global pandemic. Ironically, a lot of the group traveled to Tanzania because of COVID, choosing to risk long flights and airbnbs over zoom school and sheltering in place. If it hadn’t been cancelled, I would have been mountaineering in Patagonia, and missed the whole trip. For so many people, the pandemic has brought fear, anxiety, and hardship. For me, it has brought minor inconvenience overshadowed by opportunity and incredible experiences. For that privilege I am extremely thankful.
All ten of us summited, which was pretty amazing in itself, considering groups as big as ours rarely make it up in one piece. But summiting wasn’t the best bit, indicating that the experience was so amazing not only because of what we did but also because of what it was like. Taylor said later that one of her favorite things was to look up and down our hiking cavalcade, and see everyone completely absorbed in conversation. We would be talking about how we grew up, what we believed, what we’d learned on our gap years, where we’d been, and what we hoped to do next. I learned that Rory started an organization that works with people who suffer from depression; he’s traveled through Greece and Bosnia and Turkey. Meimei switched from D1 track to D1 crew and is currently promoting female empowerment in Senegal; she’s going to road-trip across Africa this spring. Taylor will be living in Costa Rica working at the eco-commune she helped establish over the fall; but before that, she’ll be traveling through Europe with Remy, who has supported herself since she was thirteen. Alex was going to run track at UNC but ended up switching to football; he has a story telling gig in Durham and is entertaining the idea of becoming a stand up comedian if not a business consultant. Noah is part of an organization that helps push legislation through congress; he hopes to become EMT certified and work in an ambulance. Emmaus can play any instrument under the sun and is going to Djibouti for three months before biking across Europe. Sean and Mark grew up in Saudi Arabia and Macau; they’ve traveled through the Balkans and Italy, and organized the Tanzania trip. This spring, Sean is going to return to Boston to work on his startup and Mark is going to Indonesia. The people around me were all doing incredible things. To put it simply, I was inspired. And the effect was powerful.
Gap years and strange new places and doing hard things help you find what is much harder to find in places of comfort and familiarity – that’s why I’m doing what I’m doing this year. On top of Kilimanjaro, I found a great big world full of promise and opportunity. I found within me an earnest optimism and a readiness to get out there and do things. Climbing one of the seven summits and listening to the stories of my remarkable cohort set precedent for what was really possible. I felt free. In other words, I found youthful idealism and lofty dreams. But I hope that what at the moment is quixotic optimism will, tempered by time and maturity, manifest focused ambition, genuine goodwill, Teddy Roosevelt tier energy, and a life lived to its very fullest.