Loitokitok - 2019 Kili Initiative - # 20

Back at the Kibo Slopes Lodge the Kili Initiative team relaxed after lunch. I hadn't eaten anything. My stomach was trembling at the sight of good and decided to wander into town for some souvenirs and maybe even a Guinness.

The Irish Stout was good for you.

This was our last day in Loitokitok.

Tomorrow the team was traveling to Tanzania to begin our climb of Mount Kilimanjaro.

My friend Ma'we joined me.

"Always good to have someone with you. This might be the country, but young men can get city very fast, if they see someone with money."

"Like me."

"Yes, like you."

I took only my phone and some money.

We walked down the back road.

Some girl approached us.

They offered fun.

"Sorry, I am a married man."

I have been faithful to Mam over ten years.

One of them said, "Muziki."

Even without knowing Swahili I deciphered the word and laughed, giving them each enough money for a meal. $3 in total.

"Why you give those bad girls money?"

"We all are bad. They are bad 100%. They are just not lucky, same as that flower. Beautiful one day. Not beautiful another."

Ma'we understood and

School was in session and few people were on the street, except for a couple of children on a dusty street.

"Why aren't they in school?"

"Maybe family have no money. School is very expensive, but I think they be too young."

Their smiles were things of beauty.

"Same in Thailand. No money. No school."

"Corruption."

Kenya was richer than most countries on the continent, but the money flowed up to the rich and never down to the poor. Same as everywhere in the world.

"Just a second. You go ahead."

"Sick?" asked Ma'we.

"Only a little."

He walked ahead and I voided my body and soul onto the dirt.

Damn goat entail soup.

We turned a corner and were in the market.

Passengers were loading onto buses destined for unknown towns.

Ma'we had friends here. Everyone knew him. Everyone wanted to say hello. He introduced me as his brother. I felt good about that, but then my stomach gurgled like the inside of a fetid geyser.

"Watch out. M'zee zamani."

All the old men laughed, because nothing was funnier than a fart. I took my revenge and let go. The old men reeled back in earnest and I said, "M'zee # 1."

We left quickly and within two minutes people shouted out to me.

"M'zee Zamani."

I had been here for a couple of days.

They also shouted out, "Konyagi."

It was my drink and in small towns everyone knew everyone's stories and quick.

A bar was located on a back alley.

Ma'we led me to a seat by the window.

He laughed with the other drinkers, telling a tale of my farts and after a brief conversation in Swahili he asked, "Guinness?"

I nodded my head, hoping I could keep it down in my stomach and control my zamani. I told heroic tales of passing gas to the bar drinkers and raised my hands to signal I needed to get outside.

The Preacher Man was kicking off his evening session.

I walked across the dirt road. Flowers floated from the green. I tested the wind and aimed downwind. I spread my legs and let go the wind within me. A song came into my head. CANDLE IN THE WIND. Elton John.

I turned around and entered the bar to cheers.

My fellow drinkers were holding their noses.

I sniffed the air and said, "Big nose smelled bad everywhere."

The next round was on me, because Guinness was good for you.

No matter how bad was your guts.

ps. I bought a Kenya baseball cap.

Relax Chez Kibo Huts - 2019 Kili Initiative # 16

The 2019 Kili Initiative team was happy to be at the Kibo Slopes Guest House in Loitikikok. I hadn't been eaten by hyenas, no one had gotten sick, and we had conquered the birthplace of all thorns, Lolapange. Larry's ankle was a little tweaked from the morning run, otherwise we were in one piece.

"How far we walk," asked Laikyn.

"About 180 kilometres," answered JM, the head guide. "About 120 miles in six days. I think we are in good shape for Kilimanjaro, but the rest of the day is yours. Wash up and then we'll meet for breakfast. Just remember we will be staying in tents tonight."

"So we will have to hear Mzee snoring again?" asked Jackman.

"I talk in my sleep. Ma'we snores."

We laughed and emptied our bags.

"Funny, after all that walking I don't feel dirty."

"Feeling is one thing. Smelling is another." JM had already showered in the common bath.

"Okay, I'll shower."

I stripped off my clothes and soaped myself in hot water.

A true luxury.

Clean clothes.

Heaven.

"

Breakfast was served in the dining room.

Food prepared by someone else.

The team was joking about their cooking.

"Who was the best?"

They exchanged glances. Their eyes settled on Jackman and Maureen said, "Jackman makes the best ugali."

Jubbah or Young Steve argued that his was the best. "Jackman tastes like dust."

I left them dining room. Ubah was on her phone. She was speaking with her mother. I modded to her and went to the garden.

A fringe of snow hung onto the rim of Kilimanjaro.

Tim said that in twenty years the glacier will be gone.

I called him in Geneva. No one answered and I texted that everyone was safe and happy to be off the trail.

I found my tent and went to sleep.

I love a morning snooze.

The team was chilling around a table.

They were back in their trekking gear.

Mine was dry and I got back into my outfit.

An outsider only by age.

No one had money and I asked, "Who wants a soda?"

They all did and I ordered drinks from David at the restaurant. He served them on the patio.

JM came over and said, "Enjoy yourselves, because tomorrow we're starting the 'solo'."

I had heard about the 'solo' in New York Tim had said that I didn't need to go with the team.

"Are you going?" asked Ubah.

"Tim said I didn't." Staying forty-eight hours alone in a makeshift shelter without any lights wasn't too appealing, but I answered, "We are a team and a team stays together."

"Mzee."

"

We slap high-fives and I wandered off to my tent.

Ma'we followed and asked, "Are you really going on the solo?"

"Why not?"

"Because if I didn't have to, I wouldn't."

"Me too, but you're going, so is JM and Steve and I'm here to watch over you all, but not now. Let's go to town."

"The usual?"

""Yes, the usual."

It was a short walk.

Through fields.

To a friendly place for old men.

And the Konyagi was a happy sight for Mzee and Ma'we.

Kunywa.

Loitokitok by Foot- Kili Initiative # 15

The Kili Initiative 2019 team assembled at 5:55 for pre-dawn calisthenics. JM cancelled the morning jog, because the young people, Fast Steve, and JM were running from our campsite to Loitokitok. The team skipped breakfast to avoid stomach cramps. Johnny, the driver, loaded the backpacks, tents, and equipment onto the tuk-tuk. The ten runners set out a a fast clip. I had been a long distance runner in my youth, but the ranking M'zee or old person I opted for walking the fifteen kilimetres to Loitokitok. Ma'we was my companion.

We took our time through the farmlands. High fences protected the crops from goats and wild animals and Ma'we explained, "These fields are owned by the rich. They are worked by young men without any education other than farming. It is good land."

The Snows of Kilimanjaro gleamed in the sunlight.

Our trek up the mountain began in four days and I asked, "I've never climbed anything so high."

"It is not so hard until the final four hours. It will be cold and steep. The footing is not good, but you have strong legs, so you should make it."

"Will you be with me?"

"Every step of the way."

We reached the main road within an hour.

The small store on the highway was closed for the morning.

The traffic on the two lanes was heavy.

We were back in civilization.

I looked behind me.

"What? Did you forget something?" asked Ma'we, accustomed to my habit of misplacing my possessions.

"No, just thinking of where we had been. It was a good walk."

"Lolapange," laughed Ma'we.

"The Maasai Bar."

"The small school."

"Everything and now we have another ten kilometres to go. Maybe two hours."

A local Kenyan bus hoved into street.

Ma'we and I looked at each other.

"We'll be doing more walking on the mountain. I hate walking on highways."

Ma'we lifted his hand. The bus stopped for us. It was crowded with passengers. Kenyan music blared from the speakers. I smiled at a young boy. He smiled back. We high-fived and I danced to the music. I liked dancing.

Ten minutes later we arrived in Loitokitok ten minutes.

We had seen the runners on the way here and I asked, "Is it too early for a beer."

"Not in this town."

Ma'we knew his way around this town.

His farm was only thirty klicks away.

His loving family tended to his cows.

We walked down an alley.

Loitokitok have many of those.

We ordered Konyagi Cognac and Crest Soda.

No ice.

My friend mixed the drinks.

The cocktail tasted like paradise.

And Ma'we felt the same.

Africa. Kenya. Loitokitok.

Under a equatorial sky.

Just like Adam and Eve.