Excerpts from Climbing Kilimanjaro,
1. Addis Ababa, Ethiopia
The day I left Addis Ababa to begin my African
journey, a lion on the runway prevented my Ethiopian Airlines plane from
leaving on time. It wasn't a vicious wild lion that had strayed onto the
runway, although in Ethiopia that could be possible. Instead, the lion
was the mascot of the Ethiopian Tourist office, a modern symbol of the
ancient Lion of Judah. Hardly a conquering lion, this one was old,
rather mangy, and had a bad leg.
As I waited to board the plane, the limping
lion was led out on the airfield to greet the Italian soccer team that
was coming to play the Ethiopians. The publicity stunt intending to show
strength failed; the lion lay down at the foot of the steps and dozed
off. After a few minutes, he was awakened and coaxed up the steps,
despite the obvious fact that airplane steps are not designed for
disabled lions....
The lion, finally, was led back to his cage
somewhere behind the terminal. Only then, more than an hour after the
scheduled departure time, did the airline personnel begin rounding up
the passengers who had scattered throughout the terminal....
As I left the terminal, those watching from
the observation deck may have thought I resembled that disabled lion.
Walking with crutches, I may have gone a bit faster than he, at least
until I got to the airplane steps. There, I stopped to rest for a moment
and, like the lion, went up the steps one at a time. I used the railing
for support.
2. On a local bus between Nairobi and Arusha
...My fellow passengers were diverse.
I was the only white passenger and, for part of the time, I was the only
woman. Some African and Indian men were dressed in business suits,
perhaps they were salesman who took the route quite often. Many
Masai men, wrapped in their red blankets, came on board along the route.
Those tall and handsome tribesmen are the almost legendary pastoral
nomads of Africa's high plains. For generations they have drifted
back and forth with their herds across what is, to them, an imaginary
border between Kenya and Tanzania. Just like the animals that know
nothing about the territorial borders delineated in Europe during
colonial times, the Masai go where there is water and grassland for
their horned cattle....
As they got on the bus, the Masai men
slid their spears and club-like sticks under the seats according to
instructions from the purser. I'd been told that in Kenya the Masai men
wore nothing under their blankets, but Tanzanian law said they had to
when they were in that country. Some of those red blankets draped as
cloaks and knotted over the men's shoulders were very short. What
I'd been told about the Kenyan Masai was true.
3. Marangu, Tanzania
Getting to the house where Ellison lived
with his mother was one of the most physically challenging times of my
trip. He did indeed live on the mountain's slope, several blocks beyond
where the road ended. With no choice, I started climbing Kilimanjaro by
walking up the mountain path between the coffee, maize, and banana
plants. With the rain, the dirt path had turned to mud and was
very slippery. I felt I was sliding one step backward every two
steps I took ahead.
At one point we actually forded a narrow
stream. I stood on one edge, braced myself on my crutches, put one foot
ahead as far as I could, then managed to reach the other side. I
expected to slip and roll down the mountain into a gigantic ball of mud.
Now, whenever I meet someone who climbed to the
top of Mt. Kilimanjaro, I can say that I also climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro.
Just not to the top.
It was a big disappointment to discover,
when we got to a clearing in the foliage, that because of the rain and
the heavy cloud cover Mt. Kilimanjaro was not "out." I
was on it, but I couldn't see it.
5. Aboard the Straat Johore,
I stood on the open deck and watched
as we slipped out of the Mombasa harbor. The ship made its way slowly
down a channel, then out into the Indian Ocean. I was very
excited, though a bit nervous about how I would be able to walk when the
ship was moving on the open ocean. So far, it was no problem, but here
the water was very smooth.
The water glistened as we sailed off. The
lights of Mombasa faded into the moonlit night and then darkness
surrounded us. I stayed on the open deck for a long time before
returning to my cabin. I felt very content. I was on board a cargo
ship heading south. I had done it! This was the cargo ship
trip I had dreamed about....During the night I awakened and looked out
the porthole at the ocean as light from the stars and moon were
reflected on the water.
9. Brazzaville, Congo
The customs officer asked for my
passport and visa. I handed him my passport but said I had no visa.
"The travel agent said I did not need
one as I was only a transfer visitor," I said.
The officer behind the counter
frowned. The airline woman beside me looked very worried. It was about
midnight and uniformed African soldiers were everywhere in the
terminal--with guns that I assumed were loaded. I was terrified.
The customs officer looked at my
passport, turned to my picture, then looked at me....Finally, he stamped
my passport and put it into his top drawer, saying he would keep it
until I left the country. I was shocked and opened my mouth to protest.
11. Ngaoundere, Cameroon
The main ingredient of the meal was a rather
solid pile of what they called cous-cous, made of guinea corn cooked to
a heavy, gritty, and sticky consistency. With it, Wesley's wife
served a large pot of fish stew with okra and I, as the guest of honor,
was asked to help myself first.
I dipped the large ladle into the stew and came up
with a fish head with slimy okra sticking to it. I wasn't sure what was
polite but, assuming I was not expected to eat the head, I sunk it back
into the pot. I stirred the fish head around a bit and, moving my spoon
to another area in the pot, brought up a piece of fish flesh, also
rather slimy...
With some instruction, I learned to take a large
spoon of cous-cous, roll it into a ball and make an indention into which
I scooped the stew juice. Then I popped the whole ball into my
mouth.
Next we were served a meat stew,
perhaps lamb or goat, quite spicy and very tasty. With it came cassava
leaves, tasting somewhat like spinach, cooked in peanut oil that gave
the leaves a nutty flavor.
For dessert we had a granulated dry porridge
made from ground corn and served with warm milk and sugar. It was
quite a feast--all eaten with our hands.
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