I’m at the top of Africa. This is the highest point on the earth between the Himalayas and the Andes. This is Uhuru Peak on Mount Kilimanjaro. The sun is rising over the horizon, which looks endless from this elevation on the highest freestanding mountain in the world. Taking my camera out of my bag requires extra concentration from my oxygen-deprived brain and extra effort from my fingers that have been numbed by the bitterly cold wind. I’m nearly overcome by emotion as Aloyce, my guide, hugs me and says “Congratulations!” I made it!
* * * * * * *
Aminieli,
one of our porters, shakes my tent at 10:35pm. I’d barely slept in the last four hours after dinner; my
mind was filled with anxious thoughts about making it to Kili’s summit. After all, yesterday when we arrived at
the Barafu
base camp, we watched as several dazed-looking people, barely able to walk on their
own, were being led down with arms over the shoulders of their guides and
assistants. One relatively
fit-looking guy in his 20s or 30s was even being led down with an oxygen mask
over his nose and mouth.