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.

2019 KILI INITIATIVE # 6 - Kibo Lodge Reveille

5:55am came early the next morning. Young voices issued from the Kibo Lodge gardens and I rose from bed. The entire entourage was gathered in a clearing.

Loitokitok glowed on a near hilltop.

The sun was rising in the East. I thought about going back to sleep, then reproached myself, "I didn't come all this way to not be part of the crew."

I dressed swiftly to exit the bungalow.

Outside in a clearing Ma'we, JM, Old Steve, Jackman, Fast Steve, Ubah, Maureen, Vanessa, Nathalie, Laityn, and Larry gathered in a circle. JM was instructing calisthenics. I crossed the lawn and entered into the arc.

"Let's give a clap for Mzee," said Ma'we and the rest slapped their hands together and chorused, "XXXXXX

The gesture was a warm welcome and JM said, "We are all here. Together. To strengthen our body. Tomorrow we start our trek across the Tsaavo Plains. One week. 200 kilometers of hiking. No cars. Are you ready?"

"Yes," they all shouted loudly.

I had walked across the Manhattan Bridge to break in the hiking boots.

Every morning I had trudged up and down the stone steps leading the the Fort Greene Martyrs Monument. 133 steps times 2 times 40 times 1 foot added up to one mile. I didn't even break wind.

Mount Kilimanjaro was over 19,000 feet above sea level and climbing to the summit was no joke, but I added a late, "Yes."

We stretched, hopped, bent over, trotted in place for five minutes and then a garrulous voice from a loudspeaker echoed through the valley.

We stopped in our tracks and stared at bright lights on the opposite hillside.

The indecipherable rant wasn't English, even though I heard "Jesus'and'God' and I asked, "Is that Swahili?"

"No, that is a preacher man speaking in tongues. He starts that every morning at 6 o'Clock. Never early. Never late."

"And what do his neighbors say?"

"Many things. None of them good, but this is not our problem," answered JM who lived in Loitokitok.

"It's almost time for the morning run," warned Fast Steve.

"I'll walk ahead. My knees are shot from basketball."

"We'll see you at the main road."

I left the Kibo Lodge grounds.

Alone, but not for long.

Kenyan children were going to school in uniforms.

The preacher went silent, as the morning prayer were sung from a nearby mosque.

The sun was up and to the west was Kilimanjaro as it had been forever.