Heading to Inkisanjane 2020 Kili Initiative

The 2020 Kili Intiative team has departed from the Kibo Lodge in Loitokitok for the Maasai Plains under the guidance of JM, Ma'we, and Fast Steve.

The road down to the highway is so familiar from last year with Mount Kilimanjaro looming behind the group of Tanzanian and Kenya young adults.

The valley stretches for miles to the east filled with lions, elephants, giraffes, zebra, and countless other African species.

At one point the map is spread atop a hill and the team navigators see to find where they are and where they need to go.

"I told you we need to go left..." "I have no idea where we are..." "Can you see if there is a Java nearby?"

Needless to say they found Inkisanjane.

They made dinner inside the school.

At night the team sat around a campfire. In less than a week I will join them and Commander Tim, but not on LoLoipange.

The Hill of Thorns.

Tree Planting # 12 - Kili Initiative 2019

Trees have dramatically disappeared from the Maasai Marra with the change in climate and the increase of goat herds. The Kili Initiative has been dedicated to fighting this deterioration of the by promoting the planting of trees around schools by the students and Kili Initiative team members.

We rose early and washed with the small bowl of water. I cleaned my face, hands, and private parts. I thought about changing my clothing, but Larry had been wearing the same outfit since our departure. Strangely neither of us thought we smelled bad.

At dawn the team and I performed our morning calisthenics. Ma'we and I remained behind in camp, as the rest of them went on a jog.

Afterwards we ate breakfast.

Eggs, sausages, ugali, and Africafe, the best instant coffee on Earth.

Vanessa, Ubah, Maureen, Nathalia, and Laikyn sat away from us and I rethought my cleanliness, however our next shower was two days away in Loitokitok.

After the dishes were washed, JM assembled us and handed out baby trees.

"We have planted trees here, but the school has no fence. The goats eat the small trees. They eat everything green, but the people love goats. They love the meat and love the milk. We are going to the next village. It is not far."

"Nothing is far in Africa as long as you have your feet," said Jackman, a young man happy to only carry water and two seedlings.

"We'll see." I had calculated that we had walked approximately eighty miles since leaving Loitokitok and the 2019 Kili Initiative set out for our destination.

The topsoil was drying to dust.

Erosion was destroying the land.

"People cut down trees. They think they can live the old ways," explained JM to the young team members. Dust trailed behind him. "The Kili Initiative tries to show them other way, but it's slow going."

"Yes, a problem is like a beer belly. It did not get there in one day and will not go away in one day," I said and patted Ma'we's ample stomach.

Gullies were chasms.

Young people carrying plastic jugs and buckets to a small stream.

The muddy current was their main source of water.

"It is this or nothing," said Vanessa. She came from Kibera, a giant slum. The government did nothing to provide clean water to the hundreds of thousands of people in 'The Forest'. "And this is better than Nairobi."

"Much better," said young Steve.

Nathalia and Vanessa crossed the creek with the help of Fast Steve.

The land became fertile on the other side. Water from the stream irrigated the fields. Life was good on this side. We saw a car for the first time in days. Still there was only one way to help the land recover and that was being kind to it and sharing its wealth.

And planting trees was one of the ways.

Banda likikushinda, jenga kibanda, an old Swahili saying, which means 'If you can't build a hut, build a shack.'

But Ma'we and I could always build a beer belly.

The Middle Of Nowhere # 11 - 2019 Kili Initiative.

The younger members of the 2019 Kili Initiative team were exhausted from the slog up Lolopange and were happy to depart from the thorny slopes of the arid hill. I asked the group, "What would rather do? Climb Lolopange or spend a night in jail?"

"Jail," they answered as one and we all laughed at their losing the way to the summit, but now they were experts at avoiding the barbed thorns.

The sky was clear and the sun was hot. The team drank water and the guide JM said, "Better to carry it in you than on you."

Everyone nodded at his wisdom. They came from the cities, but two days on the trail had given them a fast education about hiking. I hit a fast pace and told JM, "I want to go ahead to take pictures."

"I will go with you. Our destination is only an hours away."

None of us walked alone, for while the grazing lands weren't wilderness, wild animals owned it and my only weapon was a long Maasai walking stick and my unwashed body.

Kilimanjaro came into view.

We saw no people and at the valley's crest I turned to find the team. JM pointed them out.

"They are about thirty minutes behind us. We'll meet them at the next village."

JM was a good man. He didn't need to speak and neither did I, as we tramped along the trails.

Civilization existed only a dirt road passing through croplands to the south of the highest mountain in Africa. The wind was the only sound and not a single plane flew overhead.

"I know it doesn't look much, but people have been living here for thousands of years. Smiling villagers greeted us with 'jambo'. I hadn't seen a house in an hour and asked, "Where are they going?"

"Cattle need land. Houses are far apart. Maasai aren't scared of walking," answered JM without losing a step and pointed to the ground. "But everyone is scared of lions."

The paw print was huge.

"There aren't many attacks, but there are some every year."

This was the Tsavo Plains.

Over a hundred years ago two male lions killed over thirty villagers and Indian railroad workers.

I was supposed to be watching over the Kili Initiative trekkers. I searched the valley and listened for a savage roar. My ears only picked the wind.

"Not to worry. That print is old. We will meet everyone at the school, where we spend the night."

Both of us spread our gait and didn't stop till we reached the remote school.

The Kili Initiative team wasn't at the school. The tuk-tuk driver had set up the camp. Thirty minutes later the hikers tramped into camp no worse for the wear.

They were happy to shuck their packs.

Vanessa sat down and said fearfully, "I saw lion tracks."

"Me too, but Im more hungry than scared."

Vanessa, Maureen, and Ubah.

Jackman, Larry, Steve, and sausages.

We ate sausages twice a day.

After Jackman and Nathalia played cards.

The school's students observed us from at a distance. I gave them the leftovers. They were happy.

The sun set early. We were on the equator.

I listened to the night.

I heard no savage roar.

Near or far.

A fire blazed before the tents.

"I wish we had John Moran with us," said Laikyn about the Kili Initiative trekker from this region. The young Maasai warrior had killed a lion with a fifty-meter toss spear at the age of 20.

"Lions don't like people," said Ma'we.

"Yes, we smell bad and taste worse." I thought it was why we dominated the planet.

"Someone is certainly smelling bad," added Ubah.

"Funny, I don't smell dirty," I countered with the classic Van Halen line from I'M HOT FOR TEACHER.

"Yes, you do," the squad laughed and I joined their laughter.

We were together. We were safe. We were in the middle of nowhere.

Someplace in Africa.

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.