Our trip began early in the
morning, while it was still dark. The journey across
Tanzania to Kilimanjaro would take two long days across
one of the only paved roads in the country. Songea
lies, literally, at the end of the road and Kilimanjaro
rests near the other end after two days of driving
through misty highlands, arid plains, precipitous
mountain passes, and glorious elephant studded plains.
We’d needed to get an early start to this traverse so
that we could reach our halfway point before night,
when vehicular traffic must share the road with
giraffe, zebra, and other animals as well as roadside
bandits.
The kids piled into the bus and sat atop gunnysacks
filled with the onions, potatoes, rice, and other
produce we’d eat as we trekked up Kilimanjaro’s slopes.
Much preparation had preceded our departure. We spent
many long weekend days trekking for hours in the
mountains behind Songea to build up our stamina for the
arduous trip, and made sure to eat nutritious foods in
the days before so we’d have enough strength to
complete the journey. Countless negotiations went into
securing our right to climb, lodging and gear for the
trip, with the biggest logistical hurdle being our
transportation.
We first had to get the parents on board, and at first
they really didn't understand why they should
contribute money to send their kids across the country
to climb a mountain, famous though it may be; what was
the use? But when their kids started making the case,
and they saw how much they wanted the experience, how
low the cost would be, and how it might benefit their
educations, parents voiced their support and
contributed as much as they were able. Some gave money,
some helped us cook the chapati and maandazi that we
sold to raise money, and the trip got some momentum.
All that we needed were the long walks into Matagoro
Forest to get ourselves in shape and we could count
down the days to our departure.
The kids were optimistic and bubbling with excitement
as we left for Morogoro, our halfway point; there was
one paved road in Songea and it led to Morogoro through
the beautiful, cool air of the highlands along a route
that meandered with the contours of the rolling hills.
We passed through Njombe within 4 hours and Iringa at
7, the last town in the highlands before we began our
descent down the sharp switchbacks to the oppressive
heat of the valley.
Our bus broke down the first time in the heat of midday
at the foot of the Udzungwa mountains, and as we waited
for the engine to cool, baboons called nearby and the
kids took advantage of the time to stretch their legs
and pose for our first group photo underneath the shade
of the van’s rear hatch. We were still optimistic that
early in the trip, and the two hour delay only meant
that we’d reach Mikumi National Park in the late
afternoon, when the animals would begin to stir after
resting out the afternoon heat. The road to Morogoro
passes directly through the middle of this park, and we
passed on a fortunate day. For the first time in their
lives, our students saw the animals they’d only seen
crudely drawn in textbooks, and which attract thousands
of tourists annually. Their faces pressed against the
windows on either side of the van, the students called
out the animals names in Kiswahili as we spotted
giraffe, gazelle, and a herd of elephants, with a baby
following closely on the heels of its mother just feet
away from where we’d stopped the van to watch: twiga,
etc. Their excitement carried them into Morogoro where
we slept soundly in preparation for our long arrival to
Moshi.
The second day lacked the spectacular vistas of the
first, but excitement built as our destination neared.
Twelve hours north to Moshi and our first glimpse of
the purple slopes of Kilimanjaro stretching impossibly
high above Moshi Technical School, the school where
we’d spend the night and pick up the shared equipment
for the climb. Another group had just come off the
mountain and the two groups of kids shared experiences,
and anticipation built and the kids began to realize
what all their work and training had been for, that
they were about to experience something they’d never
imagined.
We set off early, made last minute purchases, and began
the steep drive up the road to Marangu, the starting
point for student climbs, but again, the van broke
down, and we had to switch all our gear to another for
the last leg up where we’d meet our guide and pack for
our early morning start. The drivers would have a week
to get the van working, while we reached for the top of
the mountain. Adronisi, our head guide, along with two
assistant guides and four porters to help carry gear,
explained the route to us: we would take six days, with
one day of acclimatization in the middle, and we could
only climb a little each day so that our bodies would
have time to adjust to the altitude, and the lessons
related well to our studies of pressure in physics. We
would spend the first night at Mandara Hut, the second
and third at Horombo Huts, and spend a few hours
gathering strength at Kibo Hut before we’d set off for
the arduous last bit.
The first day saw us pass through a rain forest, ripe
with lessons for our biology curriculum as ancient
trees loomed over us, flowers abounded, and Colobus
monkeys chattered in the trees throughout. The kids
bubbled with enthusiasm and nearly ran up the hill, the
lack of oxygen not affecting them. In the afternoon as
we rested, we’d relate aspects of the day to our
classroom lessons. Why does Oxygen decrease as we go
higher? What does this mean for our bodies? How has the
vegetation changed as we climbed? Kilimanjaro is the
only place in the world that has 7 different climate
systems within such close proximity and its lessons
were numerous.
Day two, and we began to feel the lack of oxygen as we
left the forest behind and reached the broad expanses
of the moors, with their endless views out to the
plains below. Giant groundsels towered above us, and
cascading brooks sparkled with clear glacier water; we
really departed from what we’d ever experienced before
at this point, and the world seemed alien and the
students wanted to know about everything about we were
seeing.
We needed the rest that day three would afford and
passed much of the time relaxing around Horombo Hut,
located high on a spine of lava with magnificent views
of the summit, two days away, its glaciers white
against the deep blue sky that one sees at altitude. We
also made a brief acclimatizing trip up to Zebra Rock,
an aptly named rock wall striated with white and black
mineral washes that provided close up views of the
mysterious, broken towers of Mawenzi, Kilimanjaro’s
lesser peak.
Tourists who were also climbing the mountain were
curious about the group of Tanzanian students that were
staying in the same huts and experiencing the same
highs and lows that they were on this once in a life
time trip; normally the only Tanzanians they see are
porters, and our students hastened to explain with
pride, how they’d saved and trained to come, and they
even taught the tourists lessons about the biology and
geology through which we’d pass as we climbed higher up
the mountain. The boys tested their athleticism against
a group of particularly energetic American tourists,
and soundly trounced them, besting them in all their
games.
As we left Horombo Hut, we
also left behind all the vegetation and entered the
moonscape of the saddle between the two peaks. The
valley was shrouded by mist as we climbed slowly – the
lack of oxygen was really making things difficult, and
we had the added weight of extra water as we’d passed
the last reliable source in the morning – and the short
trip to Kibo hut stretched out to hours as we sucked in
deep lungfuls of the increasingly thin air. When we
stopped to eat lunch, we noticed that all across the
valley floor, climbers had spelled out messages with
rocks; some had been there for many years. We proudly
added our own message: “Songea Academy, 2002,” before
continuing with the exhausting climb. Later in the
afternoon, I finally found what I’d been waiting for
the whole day; in the shadow of a large boulder was a
little drift of snow that hadn’t yet melted, and I
scooped some up and threw it at Jerry – it was the
first snow they’d ever seen! And we had a small
snowball fight, at least until we bent over double
gasping for air.
The huts this time were small, not really meant for
sleeping, more just for rest and a girding of strength
as we readied ourselves for the most difficult day, 7
hours of climbing to the summit in freezing
temperatures, and 5 hours of descent back to Horombo
Hut for our last night of rest on the mountain. At
around 11 at night, we suited up in our warmest
clothes, pulled out our torches and set off to climb up
the steep summit cone. After months of anticipation and
seeing the summit grow closer each of the last four
days, we were finally going to attempt it. We put our
water bottles inside of our jackets to keep them from
freezing and set off in single file, up the tight
switchbacks of frozen ground for the long, hard slog to
Gilman’s Point where we hoped to watch the sun rise.
Walking becomes painful at this point, as you struggle
for breath and the air is cold in the lungs and the
whole thing makes you nauseous; you struggle to focus
and rely on your will to keep placing one foot in front
of the other until there is nowhere higher left to go.
But, unfortunately, will alone is not enough, and some
of the students began to experience symptoms of
altitude sickness. First Lucy, then Sophia, and Grace
couldn’t continue as they felt too sick to go on. I
felt especially bad for Grace, who’d been the most
eager of all my students throughout the whole trip,
always offering to help, and enthusiastically
approaching each new challenge.
As one of the guides led them back down to recover, the
rest of us continued up to Gilman’s point. The snow in
the path was filthy, but everything else glowed white
as Tim crouched with his camera to record the sun
rising behind the fractured summit of Mawenzi. And we
waited, the sun crept higher and the neutral density
filter on the camera recorded it in Technicolor glory.
The students huffed and stamped to keep warm in their
second-hand jackets and waited for the slow packing of
the tripod before they could continue up the trail and
towards the summit, which had seemed so distant to them
minutes before when they nearly turned back with their
peers for the cold and the sickeningly thin air.
We set off just as the sun began to warm us and behind
Adronisi slowly shuffled forward along the sweeping arc
of the crater wall. Less than two kilometres to go and
yet we spent two hours staggering, insensible to each
other and the passing time as we focused on inching
forward to Uhuru. Glaciers rose high to the left -
though in a few years they’d likely suffer the ravages
of warming - while to the right we looked across a
precipice to the cone of the inner crater. And finally
we reached it! Our elation mirrored the improbability
of our having made the trip at all, 2 days across
Tanzania and five days up. We posed and preened before
the sign delineating the “Roof of Africa” as Adronisi
sat bemused, and adjusted his gaiters for the retreat
down to Kibo Hut. Pictures show us smiling as we
savoured our triumph on the summit and record a memory
that we’d never relinquish.
So, we walked down the mountain, victorious, and
received our certificates of accomplishment, and even
those that had to turn back were happy for the
experience and couldn’t wait to tell their stories to
those back home. The van waited for us as we finished,
exhausted, and drove back to Moshi-tech for a
celebratory dinner with soda, pilau, and the obligatory
speeches.
Our trip wouldn’t end smoothly, however, as the van
refused to cooperate, and stretched our two day trip
back into three and we travelled in the night, our only
company, the long distance truckers and the solitary
candles along the roadside that signified a vendor
ready to be woken up at any time of night to sell his
wares to whoever might pass. For every three hours that
we drove, we’d spend an hour sitting along the side of
a dusty road, waiting for the engine to cool, or for
some spare part to be retrieved from a distant town.
The time stretched, but the students remained in good
spirits; they’d get another day off of school, but I
was dumbstruck when, as we passed one long wait on the
side of the road, one of the shabbier looking vans from
Songea passed us on its own long journey, and it
managed it without break down. All my months of
planning and anticipation for the van had been for
naught, but it was no matter, because the trip was a
success, and over those ten days, we all experienced
something unique, and wonderful, and even years later,
when I went back to visit my students, their first
words after greeting me, would be memories of the trip
and exhortations to do it again.
