Kili and my Tattoo

Climbing Kilimanjaro was the most difficult, and best, thing I've yet done in my 42 years. It was simply incredible. Given that I'd made a promise to myself that I'd get one tattoo per continent, my choice for Africa was simple -- I needed a tattoo of Kili.


So, here is the explanation of this particular tattoo. First, I got it in Budapest. I wanted to get it in Cairo, but by the time I found a tattoo parlor there, I was leaving the next day to go to Dahab to go diving and I clearly didn't want a new tattoo combined with underwater activities.

The route I took (Marangu) is considered the easiest, since you sleep in huts every night. It is also one of the fastest routes up and no doubt the most crowded, though there were only about twenty people trying to summit the night we went to the top. On this route, you leave your last hut at midnight or so, in order to try to make the top of the mountain at sunrise. The tattoo has the date that I made it to the summit and also the Swahili phrase, "Hakuna Matata."

At this point, it is only appropriate to insert the reason this phrase is most commonly known in the United States, via a movie that I've never seen, but heard was quite good -- The Lion King.



Of course when I posted a picture of this new tattoo on my Facebook page last year, I immediately got harassed by my wonderful friends and their truly unique sense of humor. A lot of comments along the lines of "trolling the school yards, these days?" Quite comic.

Here's the real story. My guide was a great guy named Eyan, a local from the village immediately outside the Marangu gates. In fact, after we came down from the mountain, we had lunch at his family's house before heading back to town. He was/is a totally relaxed guy that has gone up the mountain some 200 times or so. Dreadlocks. Chill. Supportive. Everything is going to be just fine.

Ergo, hakuna matata, which roughly translates to "no worries." During the two days we were hiking, before the summit night, Eyan would occasionally toss a 'hakuna matata' my way and I return the same. The hiking wasn't too difficult in the beginning, but I was starting to feel the altitude as we got higher.

I told Eyan on the day that we were hiking up to the last hut (Kibo) that since I wasn't feeling altitude sickness and was in pretty reasonable shape that I was going to make it to the summit. No excuses. No turning back. Doesn't matter how long it is going to take. I also told him that I might end up swearing at myself repeatedly and directing a little self-abuse language at myself, and the mountain, to try to spur me on to the top.

So on the last night, you leave around midnight and climb pretty much straight up 1,000 meters or so, until you get to the top. It was a really tough climb, at least for me. And Eyan was the best guide of all times. Encouraging me. Reminding me to walk slower. Ignoring me when I obviously didn't want to talk. And probably my favorite on the way up:

Eyan: "How are you doing?"

Me after screaming obscenities for the last hour at myself and the mountain: "Hakuna Matata."

Eyan: "Hakuna Matata, motherfucker."

O' yea, we had a theme phrase now. And there was no doubt I was making it to the top with that inspiration. Though I didn't think that probably should be immortalized on my shoulder for all time.

More random thoughts in Africa

It has been a little while since I’ve written and a lack of content is certainly not the excuse. I have immensely enjoyed my last month or so in Africa, from Zanzibar, to Moshi, to Kilimanjaro, to Uganda, and now in Nairobi for a few days.

There is a great blogging network out there and I’ve had the good fortune of ‘meeting’ a few of them online. A few of them have warned me that writing is something that must be done with regularity or you run the risk of getting out of the habit and having a hard time getting started again. I fear that I fell into that trap in the last few weeks; so today I am going to sit here (in this open-aired bar in Nairobi, with a cold Tusker beer on my table) and write all afternoon.

Some small thoughts I jotted down on my ride back after climbing down Mount Kilimanjaro from the village at the park entrance to Arusha:

• There are a large number of small bars that line the major roads in Africa, almost all with a Coca-Cola sign out front that has a picture of a beautiful black woman taking a big swig of Coke and then has the name of the bar printed in block letters beside her. All of the signs are exactly the same, except for the name of the bar.

One of the bars I saw on this particular day was the Agape Canteen. Agape is most often used in the States in conjunction with the name of some church, e.g. Agape Baptist Church of Loneview. I thought it was odd to see a bar named in the same fashion, so I went ahead and looked up the definition to make sure:

“a·ga·pe 2 (ä-gä'pā, ä'gə-pā')
n.
1. Christianity Love as revealed in Jesus, seen as spiritual and selfless and a model for humanity.
2. Love that is spiritual, not sexual, in its nature.
3. Christianity In the early Christian Church, the love feast accompanied by Eucharistic celebration.

A great line from a great movie (Princess Bride) came to my mind when I initially saw the sign: “I don’t think that word means what you think that word means.”

• The road between Moshi, which is a fairly large town near the foot of Kilimanjaro, and Arusha, which is the biggest city in the area, is about sixty kilometers or so. Between the two are a collection of small villages.

I saw a lot of guys riding old, one speed bicycles on that part of the highway. They each had 5-6 plastic, yellow jugs strapped to the back of their bikes. After seeing a couple dozen of these guys peddling along, I asked Eyan what the story was. He told me that they were bringing 20 litre jugs of fresh water to a market 10-15 kilometers away to sell. Luckily, the part of the road from the well to the market was slightly downhill. He told me they sold each of the jugs for 200 Tanzanian shillings.

The current exchange rate for Tanzanian shillings is about 1,250 shillings per U.S. Dollar. These guys were biking 20-30 kilometers round-trip for about a dollar.

There is a phrase that has been knocking about in my head for a few months now: the good fortune of the geography of birth. Get used to hearing it from me frequently. Any of our souls could have emerged anywhere on this vast planet. Count yourself lucky that you ended up where you did – cause it ain’t nothing more than good luck.

• Another common sight in Africa is chickens running around free everywhere. When you go into the smaller villages, you regularly see dozens of chickens and baby chicks just wandering around everywhere. The question that I still haven’t gotten a good answer for is how everyone keeps track of whose chickens belong to whom.

The other thing that popped into my mind was the old joke we’ve all heard a hundred times: why did the chicken cross the road? As I saw three chickens crossing the highway in front of our car, I thought that we’ve all probably used that phrase numerous times in our lives. . . and never seen a chicken actually cross a road. Even if you grew up on a farm, your chickens were probably cooped up or in some fenced-in area.

By the way, they did make it to the other side.

• When is the last time you saw a gas station attendant? And by gas station attendant, I mean someone that actually pumps the gas – not the guy sitting in the booth taking your money after you pump your own. I may be wrong, but I think every single gas station that I’ve seen in Africa has gas station attendants.

• There was a road sign that I really, really wish I would have gotten a picture of on this particular road. It was just a simple rectangular sign, black writing on a white background:

“danger!”

No explanation. No “beware of animals crossing.” No “beware of flooding” or “intersection ahead.” Nope.

Just generalized danger, I suppose. Words for all of us to live by.

• This isn’t a particular image from that one car ride, but one that has applied all through East Africa: you see guys holding hands all the time here. Its not a homosexual thing – friends just walk down the street holding hands. In fact, I’d wager that homosexuality is close to a stoning offense in many of the places I’ve been, so seeing guys (rarely women – just guys) walking around holding hands is a bit disconcerting.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with it.”



• One of the other sights you encounter on a regular basis is women walking around carrying baskets or other large objects on their heads. It is amazing how they can keep this stuff balanced on their heads as they walk around. Some of the baskets or whatever are really damn big, and must occasionally weigh a lot. And for the most part, they walk around without ever using their hands to keep things balanced.

On the this road I saw a variation of this that I hadn’t seen before. There was a middle-aged woman walking down the road with a large woven basket on her head, practically overflowing with corn. It had to have weighed more than 20 pounds. Her left leg was amputated above the knee. She was walking using crutches in both of her arms. Amazing balance.

• Another one that has nothing to do with this particular car ride, but my mind was wandering when I was making notes. Ugali. You just have to try it. Try to make sure that there is some sauce with it that gives it some flavor though.

• And some of the roads lately (not this one, but I’ll put this comment here) have been horrible. Simply horrible. I’ll write about one of the overnight bus rides I took separately, but one of the general observations I want to make is that although the roads are poor – and as a result, your vehicle is rarely traveling that quickly – there are speed bumps all over the place. Your car or bus might only be going 25-30 miles per hour, but anytime you get near any populated area you are going to have to go over a speed bump about every 100 yards or so.

It’s obviously a good thing that there is a concern for public safety, but if you are in the back third of a bus (none of which have any suspension after getting assaulted on these roads), you get a little sick of getting tossed about so often when banging over these speed bumps. And while we are on the topic of public safety – speed bumps area good start, but perhaps the same governments that are mandating those might want to think about a little stricter licensing policy before letting some of these folks loose on the roads in the first place.

• Last observation for this post is another sign I saw on the road that I absolutely loved. It was the same as every single other side on the road. Same Coca-Cola sign (which is used for shops, groceries, bars – almost everything). Same block lettering. Same, small run-down building.

“The Happy Shop”

I’m still upset that I didn’t make Eyan stop the car. I would have liked to have met that store owner. And maybe bought something there – one can never have too much happy.

quickie in Africa

I am sitting in an internet cafe in Kisori, Uganda right now, awaiting my overnight bus (on one of the worst stretches of road I've been on yet) back to Kampala. Then tomorrow morning, I will take another bus to Nairobi, Kenya and start on my Sudan visa quest. But as bad as the internet is - no pictures yet - thought I'd give you a quick update.

I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro last week. It was amazing. Difficult. Rewarding. Just simply one of the best experiences of my life. Blog coming soon.

Then I spontanously decided to hop a bus from Arusha, Tanzania to Kampala. I had 4-5 days to kill before I needed to be in Nairobi and decided to add another country to the trip, since I heard Uganda was beautiful. It is.

Got here Sunday morning (bus ride will be another blog) and decided to have a rest/beer day. Needed it badly. Also decided to make a seemingly futile, last ditch effort to get a pass to see the mountain gorillas in Bwindi National Park. They offer eight a day. At $500 U.S. a pop. Most are reserved months in advance. But there are cancellations. . .

I got a pass for Wednesday on that Monday afternoon. Hopped an overnight bus down here. Got a good night's sleep last night - first one in a while. Up this morning and got my hour with about 12 of the 19 mountain gorillas in this group in the park. I am hoping that a couple of the 250+ pictures I took actually are in focus. Perhaps some video also.

Pretty good week. Kili and mountain gorillas inside of seven days. Neither of which were booked in advance. I may be the luckiest traveller I know (knocking on wood as I say that, in the hopes I don't totally jinx myself.)

Lots of blogs and pictures from Nairobi this weekend. Promise.