Lolapange - 2019 Kili Initiative # 10

After dawn the Kili 2019 crew washed in small individual bowls.

Face, hands, and arms.

I hit everything.

Old men smell bad in the heat.

We gathered their packs, as Johnny folded the tents to transport to our next campsite. I put my backpack on the three-wheeled tuk-tuk.

"You aren't carrying yours," asked Vanessa, as she helped prepare a breakfast of bacon, sausages, eggs, and porridge.

"Nope. I'm carrying all the camera equipment; two cameras, a phone, chargers, batteries, mikes, and a book to record the where and when of the shots. "Do you need me to help you?"

"I'm fine." The young Kiberan native frowned, wishing she was free of the weight, but this was all part of getting them into shape for the climb of Mount Kilimanjaro.

The highest mountain in Africa seemed far away that morning.

The sky was blue.

After cleaning up, we set off down a dusty path. The temperature was agreeable, but everyone was wearing wide-brimmed hats. The sun was strong on the equator. I took my place with JM at the head of the group. At 67 I was supposed to be the slowest and we followed the rules of the wild. The oldest keep the pace.

"There's Lolapange." Fast Steve pointed to a tall hill in the distance.

"It doesn't look so tall."

The Kili Initiative director had warned me of this climb.

"Thorns. Lots of thorns," said JM in a low voice for my ears only. "If you fall into the thorn bush there are only two ways of getting you out. Chopping you out or burning you out."

JM and Fast Steve laughed at this joke, but something in his voice told me that he was serious.

The morning was quiet.

"What day do you think it is?" I asked Larry.

"Thursday?"

"Sounds good to me." School was open and the students were hurrying to classes.

Some of them ran barefoot with their shoes around their necks.

No one in the world ran long-distance better than the Kenyans and of the Kenyans none were better than those of Kalenjin, but the Maasai were darn fast too.

Vanessa came up to me.

"Can you run?"

"Not that fast."

"He's an old man," said Fast Steve.

"M'zee but I will beat you in a 40-meter dash.

Everyone laughed at that.

Illasit was quiet too.

The wind whispered dust down the paths around houses.

The doors were shut to keep out the dust.

I tasted the grit on my tongue.

"What is it like?" Vanessa drank water. We had been warned to drink over two liters a day. The sun evaporated the sweat off our skins and the rising heat gave us thirst.

"Clean."

"How can dirt be clean?"

"I think we will find out on this trip."

We left Illasit and tramped through the savannah.

"The houses are protected from lions and hyena by thorn bushes. Nothing can stop an elephant," said Ma'we. "Nothing."

"Where does an elephant sleep?" It was an old joke.

"I don't know."

"Anywhere it wants."

Ma'we and JM chortled and we kept walking into a small Maasai village.

A young man and his grandparents waited by the door.

"This is John. He has on the Kili climb, because his grandmother came up to us several years ago and asked why we came this way. Tim explained about the Kili Initiative and his grandmother asked to take John. The next year we did."

"It was a great thing for me. It changed my life."

"And what about Lolapange?" asked Jackman. The hill was closer now.

I climbed that every day when I was a young boy tending cattle."

We drank fresh milk. The Maasai live on cattle; the blood, the milk, and the meat.

They are reputed to be the one of the healthiest people on Earth.

We bid good-bye. John was going to meet us at Loitokitok in several days. JM stopped the group before a maze of eroded washes.

"We are all going one way, but you will go before us. To Lolapange. Guiding by a map."

"If you think you are going the wrong way, then there is nothing wrong with admitting it and going back to the bad turning point," I suggested to the young people and looked to the five women. "Men tend never to think they are lost. Don't let them lead you astray."

"Thank you for the warning." Vanessa trudged away weighed down by her back. Larry, the pathfinder walked with the map in his hand. Ubah held the compass. The rest of the group followed them and once they were out of sight we waited several minutes before proceeding down the path.

A crack in the soil widened to a chasm. The group's bootprints went to the right. I mentioned that something about that didn't seem right and JR said, "They have taken the wrong path, but at least they didn't walk down into the crevice. They will be fine. We are climbing Lolopange. Are you ready?"

"Never readier?" I estimated the hill's height to be five-hundred feet. "It doesn't seem that tough."

The three Kenyans laughed at my ignorance and I soon found out why.

Thorn bushes abounded the rocky slopes.

Thorns with hooks.

I can't remember the name.

I cut them off them with scissors.

I cursed them every step.

They caught everything without mercy. Bird skeletons festooned the trees. Bugs were impaled on their spikes, but thirty minutes later we were on the top. The rough rocks offered no comfort and we stood, wondering where were the young people.

"They are probably climbing the other side. Steeper and more thorns," said JM. He knew this hill well.

"They will be fine." Ma'we studied me and said, "If you can climb Lolapange, then you can climb Kilimanjaro."

"It still looks tall from here."

"It is always tall." JM turned and walked to the top of Lolapange. We stayed quiet and he said, "I do not here them."

"I will go look from them." Fast Steve dropped his pack and took his water, then disappeared into the thorn bushes.

"Nothing. No one." Fast Steve wasn't even panting from his exertion and I remembered challenging him to a race. I didn't stand a chance.

He came back again.

"Nothing."

"They will be here soon," said Ma'we. He was a guide. Steve worked for Kili Initiative. He was a responsible man. I was supposed to care for the three New Yorkers. I found a smoothish rock. "What's the worse that can happen?"

Ma'we pointed to the ground.

A big print in the sand.

"Lion." JM kicked away the warning. "Old."

Not hearing any screams was a good sign.

"I'll go look one more time."

He went down the back of Lolapange.

Ten minutes later we heard voices.

We found the crew. They had stripped off their tops. None of them looked happy, as if we had played a joke on them. Their cold-weather jackets lay at their feet and Ubah explained, "The thorns were so bad we put on the jackets for protection."

"I think I lost ten pounds," crowed Larry.

Steve showed up in fine form.

"Everyone good?"

"Very good."

"Really?" I asked and then added, "Would you prefer a night in jail or another climb up Lolapange?"

"Jail," chorused the group and we laughed before eating lunch.

Twenty minutes later we descended a steep slope to the bottom of Lolapange.

Through the thorns.

Lolapange the Hill of Thorns

Never to forget.

Me Too # Not Far Enough

In 1971 Bernardo Bertolucci directed Marlo Brando and Maria Schneider in LAST TANGO IN PARIS.

The film featured a controversial rape scene between the two actors. Bertolucci and Brando coerced the nineteen year-old actress into performing the scene. Wikipedia reports that she later said, "They only told me about it before we had to film the scene and I was so angry. I should have called my agent or had my lawyer come to the set because you can't force someone to do something that isn't in the script, but at the time, I didn't know that. Marlon said to me: 'Maria, don't worry, it's just a movie', but during the scene, even though what Marlon was doing wasn't real, I was crying real tears. I felt humiliated and to be honest, I felt a little raped, both by Marlon and by Bertolucci. After the scene, Marlon didn't console me or apologise. Thankfully, there was just one take."

Bertolucci said that "I feel guilty, but I don't regret it."

This rape was a crime.

Pure and simple.

Not art.

Rape.

The movie critic Pauline Kael stated, "October 14, 1972... should become a landmark in movie history comparable to May 29, 1913—the night Le Sacre du Printemps was first performed—in music history... Last Tango in Paris has the same kind of hypnotic excitement as the Sacre, the same primitive force, and the same thrusting, jabbing eroticism. The movie breakthrough has finally come."

For when crimes against women become acceptable in Art.

Chain Of Command

Donald Trump's desire to be with beautiful women is neither a sin nor a crime.

His ties to Jeffery Weinstein, the dead pedophile kingpin, have not tarnished support amongst his MAGA followers, who wish they were like # 45.

Rich, powerful, and his hands on young flesh.

Trump knows the best way to cover his tracks is to bury any evidence with a dead man, but no one can kill skeletons in the closet.

Donald hung with Harvey Weinstein, the sexual predator.

So did Bill Clinton.

Hillary can claim a 'me too' as well.

The rich and famous believe they can get away with rape and murder.

They know things about each other.

They have money.

None of that saved Jeffrey Weinstein in prison, because those that know are best left knowing when they are dead.

Same goes for Harvey Weinstein.

And then there is # 45.

Littlus Dickus.

Cockroach Holocaust

My old house on Moo 9 in Pattaya had all kinds of birds, butterflies, snakes, and insects. My East Village apartment only had mice and cockroaches. The latter badly infested the tenement flat in 1995 like Israelis taking over Palestine. The management sprayed my place and the old Puerto Rican lady's apartment with a deadly concoction. I couldn't move back into 3E for a week afterwards. The effect of the cockroaches was negligible, then one day they vanished completely from sight. Having been told that cockroaches could survive a nuclear bomb, I became concerned as to the causes of their disappearance.

Had they left to regroup before a full-out assault on my apartment?

Or had something more menacing eradicated them from the urban food chain?

I never go the answer to either question and realized some mysteries are better off unsolved.

Harvey Does Not Get A Pass

Several years ago Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein was outted as a sexual predator, coercing women and girls to accept his advances for career advancement.

BY 2017 over eighty women accused him of sexual harassment and another fourteen claimed he had raped them. His work with various charities and support of the Democratic Party did not save him from the criminal charges of rape, criminal sex act, sex abuse, and sexual misconduct, leading to his arrest on September 18, 2018. The Queens native pled not guilty, denying any acts of sexual i and the judge released Weinstein on $1 million bail. This trial was originally scheduled for September 9, 2019, but the NYC AG delayed the proceedings until January 2020.

Since his arraignment Weinstein had been living in seclusion in Connecticut.

This week he showed up with several friends at Manhattan's Downtime Bar, a comedy club.

Kelly Bachman, a female comedienne recognized the banished Hollywood producer and said, "I'm feeling a little tense … anybody else? I'm a comic and it's our job to name the elephant in the room. Do we know what that is? Yeah … it's a Freddy Krueger in the room, if you will." "I'm feeling a little tense … anybody else?" said Bachman, who posted footage of her stand-up performance on social media. "I'm a comic and it's our job to name the elephant in the room. Do we know what that is? Yeah … it's a Freddy Krueger in the room, if you will."

People actually booed her.

Maybe Weinstein's friends.

Maybe macho men, but two other people berated the monster as well as Kelly Bachman, who was a rape victim.

Who was asked to leave?

Not Harvey Weinstein.

Downtime released this message on the incident.

""We want to address some concerns about a recent incident at Downtime. A company called Actors Hour rented our bar for a private event, with a guest list all their own. Shortly into the evening, one guest began heckling another, causing a disturbance to everyone in attendance. After several requests to stop were ignored, we kindly asked the heckler to leave. Please know that our goal at Downtime is to create an environment where everyone feels welcome. We respect the privacy of our patrons and event partners, and want to ensure that all guests are treated equally, with the same service and respect. In keeping with this goal, we made a decision that would allow the evening to continue as planned."

Bullshit.

As soon as they saw Weinstein, the club managers should have canceled his ticket and reimbursed his money, but his fortune is around $300 million and that much money buys a blind eye.

Call me old-fashioned, but the only way this scumbag should be allowed in public is in cuffs.

Tangled Wire Theory

Last night I put my headphones on the kitchen table. The leads were attached to my iBook. The power chord was separated from the headphone wires by several inches. I fell asleep to dreams of Thailand. I do miss my family.

The next morning I woke early and went into the kitchen. The iPad was the same position on the table as the previous night, however the wires were entangled like they were the participants in a snake orgy.

# 45 Impeachment Odds

Back in August of 2017 the odds for Donald Trump's impeachment stood at $500.

The pseudo-POTUS' actions over the last two years has dropped that payday to $125.

The White House and GOP have battled against any requests for records or transcripts or tax returns, however after the latest phone call to the Ukrainian president cracks # 45's united front has shown cracks. Trump has attacked any and all of his party losing faith in the MAGA movement, while his predominantly white political base remains structurally sound. The VP's wife called on the devotees to go down on their knees for # 45. I think she meant in prayer.

A male supporter said to a reporter about the Ukraian phone call that everyone makes mistakes.

Not everyone forcefully demands that a country's leader accept a pro quid quo exchange of investigating his rival Joe Bidin's son for corruption in return for military weaponry and a pseudo-presidential visit. Rudy Guiliani, the madman, handled the negotiations. Four of his compatriots have been arrested fleeing the country. Trump is sticking with Rudy, but Congress will subpoena the ex-NYC mayor by the month's end or at least that would seem like a good bet at least until you consider Trump's uncanny ability to slip the noose throughout his adult life.

Impeachment doesn't appear likely today.

But who knows what tomorrow will bring to the table.

The smoking gun.

Rattlesnake Alert

Last year local wildlife officials were called to the Blue Hills south of Boston in response to 911 call alerting to the presence of a timber rattlesnake in a populated area. Officers captured the serpent and released rattler into the Great Bog. My sister called me with this information and I asked, "Do you remember the winter Frunk saw a rattlesnake in the snow?"

"No." Her blunt refusal wasn't surprising, since she had been six in 1962.

I had been ten.

"Frunk and I were walking home. It must have been close to Christmas since it was dark early." New England was renowned for dreary winters. Nights were long and snow fell in November. "When we got to our house, Frunk whispered for me to look at the driveway. I turned my head and he pointed out a wavering shadow in the snow and said it was a rattlesnake."

"A rattlesnake?" she scoffed with a sigh. "You saw a rattlesnake in the winter. In the snow?"

My sister was a lawyer. She was an expert at grilling witnesses, but I was unafraid of telling the truth or a good story.

"Frunk saw it as a snake. I didn't know what it was, but I wasn't taking any chances and we ran into the house. Mom asked what was the problem and Frunk told her about the snake. She shook her head, until she saw the silhouette in the snow. It was about time for Dad to come home and she called the police. It must have been a slow day, because two patrol cars arrived within minutes. Getting out of their cars they drew their guns. Frunk went outside and showed them what he thought was the snake. The oldest cop pointed a flashlight and the snake became a piece of brown paper stuck in the snow. Everyone had a good laugh about it."

"I still don't remember it."

"No?"

"And I don't remember ever hearing about it until now."

"Oh." I nodded my head, recollecting that Frunk had sworn me to never mentioned the incident and the story died out after a week's ribbing. "Maybe I was just imagining it."

"You and your imagination. Have a good week."

"You too."

Later that evening I called my older brother. He didn't answer the phone and I left a message about the timber rattlesnake. He never returned my call, because some things only happened in the past and this was one of them.

The Snake Seduction of Eve

Quabbin Reservoir was created in the 1930s to provide the city and suburbs of Boston with clean water. Farms and towns were evacuated in the flood plain and the watershed has served as a park for visiting families and hikers, however in 2016 the Massachusetts Division of fisheries and Wildlife decided to set up a colony of eight venomous rattlesnakes on an uninhabited island to save the timber rattlesnakes from extinction.

Fear-ridden residents of the area called the state offices to express their paranoia about rattler infestation.

Much ado about nothing, for while two hundred timber rattlesnakes remained in the wilds of western Massachusetts, there has been no reports of a fatal biting since colonial times, except for a suspected strike on the North Quabbin Trails Association president's collie.

Keltz was bitten on the nose, causing excessive bleeding.

No swelling.

Some people are just scared of snakes.

After all the Snake offered the apple to Eve.

The Bible tells us so.

As a devout atheist I say bring back the rattlers.

The sooner the better.

We need a new Eve.