Monday, January 31, 2011
Item requested: 1 X rain
'All I can say is that my life is pretty plain...And I start to complain that there's no rain'
Blind Melon 'No Rain'
We have a pair of bundi kubwa(big owls) hanging around our house at present. They sit on the roof screeching at dusk before presumably hunting the bats that flit around. Pretty cool to have those haughty birds as neighbours.
Glad to see our neighbours (human) are chilled out about it. I’ve heard that Africans can be superstitious about owls, bats etc e.g the bird sanctuary I stayed at week on in South Africa in ’08 was shunned by the locals due to the many owls they had there. Or maybe that was just that it was run by an ex-army South African with a sniper rifle (he showed me) and no hesitation about shooting trespassers....anyway.
I’m pretty tired at the mo, one month of work to go. The heat in Moshi is mental. Needed a change of scene for the weekend so Franatee and I got on a crowded bus to go to Arusha and catch up with some Kiwis.
The landscape on the way to Arusha is reverting back to the brown dust bowl we saw as we first arrived here in March. No rain until April. Huge dust devils swirling like mini tornadoes. No green and no food for animals. It looks rough. Our mate Intrepid who lives in Karatu (north of Arusha) said that the ‘short rains’ (that we had over December) were too short out that way and people’s maize could be seriously affected. ('We wait for rain' said the mzee (older man) grimly whom I talked to at work about this issue subsequently)
An oil spill on the main road into Arusha meant traffic had to divert off road. Somewhat less than fun sitting in a hot, crowded bus for an hour or so waiting for a chance to use a single land bridge. Traffic cops around? Don’t make me laugh.
Got into A-Town, had a bit to eat while 3 children stood beside us asking us for food. Sigh...picked up some Konyagi and headed to our mate Daudi’s pad. Intrepid soon joined us and after the requisite Kiwi banter we headed out on the town. We picked up some more people from the Arusha Backpackers, ate, argued heatedly about development and cookies (don’t ask) then went off to meet more friends at ‘Lively Lady’ a plush little boutique-y bar. I was starting to feel quite...er happy. I petted a stray dog outside while some of my fellow revellers worried about rabies, I think?
We all headed to Colobus the seedy karaoke bar that has gone somewhat downhill. I still enjoyed belting out poor Karaoke. We met yet more Kiwi volunteers who were randomly at Colobus. I think if a bomb had gone off at that place, we would have lost 70% of the New Zealand’s contribution to development in Tanzania!
I got crabby that some of our girls shot off (WeWe!) to go dancing without me, the Dance King with them, so as my mood started to flatten, a contingent of us decided to call it a night. I was happy to tell everyone on the car ride at length home-with visual aids- what a great dancer I was and how the cuss could other people go dancing without me...I think the wife tuned out at some point.
The next day, Sunday nursing sore heads we grabbed a ride home with a mate to Moshi and tried to stay out of the heat. I kept thinking about kids watching me eat my lunch in Arusha, dust bowls and failed maize...donkeys tied up by the side of the road with no shade or water...just not things we have to worry about back home in NZ ai?
Being Sunday and having the post drinking Catholic guilts, on a whim I opened the Good Book at random and found a passage from Micah ‘He will teach us of His ways and we will walk in His paths’. I found that oddly comforting. Gotta stay on the path. That home stretch path.
Random P.S
If you wanna remember what my sweet voice sounds like check out the stellar animation work of my friend Neil-O at this link:
http://vimeo.com/19364350
Awesome effort Neil-o!! I think I make a more dapper spaceship captain than a volunteer.
Blind Melon 'No Rain'
We have a pair of bundi kubwa(big owls) hanging around our house at present. They sit on the roof screeching at dusk before presumably hunting the bats that flit around. Pretty cool to have those haughty birds as neighbours.
Glad to see our neighbours (human) are chilled out about it. I’ve heard that Africans can be superstitious about owls, bats etc e.g the bird sanctuary I stayed at week on in South Africa in ’08 was shunned by the locals due to the many owls they had there. Or maybe that was just that it was run by an ex-army South African with a sniper rifle (he showed me) and no hesitation about shooting trespassers....anyway.
I’m pretty tired at the mo, one month of work to go. The heat in Moshi is mental. Needed a change of scene for the weekend so Franatee and I got on a crowded bus to go to Arusha and catch up with some Kiwis.
The landscape on the way to Arusha is reverting back to the brown dust bowl we saw as we first arrived here in March. No rain until April. Huge dust devils swirling like mini tornadoes. No green and no food for animals. It looks rough. Our mate Intrepid who lives in Karatu (north of Arusha) said that the ‘short rains’ (that we had over December) were too short out that way and people’s maize could be seriously affected. ('We wait for rain' said the mzee (older man) grimly whom I talked to at work about this issue subsequently)
An oil spill on the main road into Arusha meant traffic had to divert off road. Somewhat less than fun sitting in a hot, crowded bus for an hour or so waiting for a chance to use a single land bridge. Traffic cops around? Don’t make me laugh.
Got into A-Town, had a bit to eat while 3 children stood beside us asking us for food. Sigh...picked up some Konyagi and headed to our mate Daudi’s pad. Intrepid soon joined us and after the requisite Kiwi banter we headed out on the town. We picked up some more people from the Arusha Backpackers, ate, argued heatedly about development and cookies (don’t ask) then went off to meet more friends at ‘Lively Lady’ a plush little boutique-y bar. I was starting to feel quite...er happy. I petted a stray dog outside while some of my fellow revellers worried about rabies, I think?
We all headed to Colobus the seedy karaoke bar that has gone somewhat downhill. I still enjoyed belting out poor Karaoke. We met yet more Kiwi volunteers who were randomly at Colobus. I think if a bomb had gone off at that place, we would have lost 70% of the New Zealand’s contribution to development in Tanzania!
I got crabby that some of our girls shot off (WeWe!) to go dancing without me, the Dance King with them, so as my mood started to flatten, a contingent of us decided to call it a night. I was happy to tell everyone on the car ride at length home-with visual aids- what a great dancer I was and how the cuss could other people go dancing without me...I think the wife tuned out at some point.
The next day, Sunday nursing sore heads we grabbed a ride home with a mate to Moshi and tried to stay out of the heat. I kept thinking about kids watching me eat my lunch in Arusha, dust bowls and failed maize...donkeys tied up by the side of the road with no shade or water...just not things we have to worry about back home in NZ ai?
Being Sunday and having the post drinking Catholic guilts, on a whim I opened the Good Book at random and found a passage from Micah ‘He will teach us of His ways and we will walk in His paths’. I found that oddly comforting. Gotta stay on the path. That home stretch path.
Random P.S
If you wanna remember what my sweet voice sounds like check out the stellar animation work of my friend Neil-O at this link:
http://vimeo.com/19364350
Awesome effort Neil-o!! I think I make a more dapper spaceship captain than a volunteer.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
The Sit Down
The CEO of all the country offices (ie the Boss of Bosses) of our NGO is touring the African offices with a new African Programmes manager. I got a chance to sit down with the CEO one on one and discuss just what the hell I had been up to for 11 months. It was great to see her enthusiasm for the work and humbling to get her gratitude. Hopefully my work can be a foundation for where this NGO wants to go with its human rights work. The CEO asked me to personally send her all my work/documents.
I tried to tactfully get across some of the institutional issues (cough apathy) that make rolling out culture change such as this a time consuming task...I mean, you've read the blog entries. Everything moves so slowly here. People are disinterested unless things have instant payoffs. I think the CEO kinda got what I was getting at. It is hard to relate if you work in the UK and have never worked on the front line in Africa. I tried to be constructive. I'm happy a lot of my work will be picked up and disseminated through all the NGO's country offices.
They are needing someone to keep running with this human rights work and champion/
co-ordinate it's roll out across all the country offices ie Rwanda, Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania etc. Couldn't tell if she was hinting...I'd have a good shot at getting that job.
Do I wanna be based in the UK, earning a salary off donor money and flying round African countries trying to hustle up enthusiasm for human rights? Both tempting and repellent. Would look amazing on the CV. Maybe a one time opportunity. But, the wife is keen to get home to regroup in sweet old Petone. And I am ambivalent about the whole development/charity/faith based aid sector. Plus I like my old job at home vetting draft legislation and wanna give that some more time, develop there more. I'm grateful they kept that position open for me in NZ while I've been over here.
So, Manfred jetsetting around the developing world will have to wait I think. But its nice to realise that all the sweat and tears this year will leave something behind.
Weekend ahead. Off to Arusha to see some Kiwis. Safety Tip-Keep well away from dala dala sitting by the side of the road at lunch belching smoke as passengers frantically evacuate...
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Warp Speed
Its 2008, I’m waiting on a flight to Zambia from Johannesburg and I’m fascinated by the destinations on the arrival/departure board. I say to the wife I would love to go to ‘Dar Es Salaam’ wherever that is...is it in Ethiopia? Tanzania? Really?
It’s 2009 and I’m pessimistically trying to find an affordable way to visit Africa again. Everything is ridiculously expensive. I chat to a mate while on a day walk about the possibility of me climbing Mt Kilimanjaro. He hoots with laughter...I dream of a big mountain a few nights after.
March 2010 and I’m stumbling down the dirt road away from our ridiculously hot, unfurnished, leaky house. I’m sick of seeing my wife getting savaged by mosquitoes and Tanzanians staring at me like a freak and I’m wondering if this is all just a big mistake.
April 2010, and an elephant is eyeballing me a few feet away through the open front car window. I can see his dirty tusks an arm’s length away. He’s beautiful, if alien.
May, and the boss is telling me not to intervene with the sick child being mistreated by her caregiver as it is too hard/sensitive. I ignore the boss and we get a win. The boss subsequently uses the girl for feel good PR material to show how caring our organisation is.
July and I’m walking over with the wife over the pre-dawn sand at Pangani, palm trees silhouetted against the constellations wheeling overhead.
September, I’m holding my bandage in place over the mugging stitches and anxiously watching the attempts to get our land-rover crashed in the vastness of the Rift Valley upright. I see the watching Masai woman smiling directly at me. Somehow that makes me feel better. Later that month I’m nervously gesturing at a Power Point presentation on child rights, hoping at least one person in the silent room is getting it.
An army of street kids watching me enter a casino in Mwanza.
Losing vision on the Roof of Africa.
Role playing Wills issues.
Waterfall dumping on me.
Riding a bomb (LPG canister bouncing, tipping on the full truck) to a new flat.
In a panic in the maize field, having lost my sleeping friends.
Making Masai bust their guts laughing as I pretend a trap door spider is pouncing on the wife.
The cheetah starts to sprint towards the Thompson’s gazelle.
Wife walking obliviously through a chain gang.
Dusk in Africa; my favourite time as creatures prepare for the'night shift'
Discussing favourite Wrestlers with the teenagers at the goat feast.
Annoyed at myself that my energy is not at the level of the 20 year olds I hang out with.
Running low to the ground as the elephant herd starts moving in agitation.
The car tipping/the minibus tipping/the bicycle sliding/near miss/near miss/near miss/near miss
The end of this time in Africa gets closer and closer and it’s all fracturing. One reality begins to collapse and another starts to emerge. Warp speed.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Get your Kicks on Route 66...(I mean a dust bowl track)
Big weekend. At 33 I'm not as young as I used to be, so I feel it more now! Had Bwana Daudi, our good A-Town mate come to stay Friday night to do some marathon training with us. I don't know what the two huge owls hanging around our house screeching as he arrived portended...I like owls.
Despite a bit of a rubbish stomach (dunno what I ate that caused it) the wife, Daudi and I set out running at 730am up the steepest part of what will be the Kilimanjaro Marathon, heading straight at the Mountain. I liked the stop the wife did to do a brief throw up of the water she had guzzled too quickly, before we got on our way again.
Beautiful view of the mountain, running past coffee fields, waving locals, gaggles of hornbills...makes the pain of long distance running a bit more bearable. We ran 21 km in 2.5 hours, bit of a record for me...almost a half marathon I think? Maybe I can do this crazy marathon thing...
(the furtherest point on the run we got to...Im proud, if exhausted)
Daudi was keen to see Lake Chala (of my tembo obsession) so after the run, showers, we drank tons of water (it was getting ridiculously hot as the sun rose)ate some food in town and then set out towards Chala in a tiny 4 wheel drive car.
We found the turn off to the Lake okay...then we promptly got stuck in deep shifting, red dust and sand. It was like Lawrence of Arabia or something. Road works and no rain for ages meant the road- that was previously muddy on my last visit- was now a parched, narrow,cauldron of dust. Large piles of rocks and gravel from road works to avoid as well as the usual goats and cows.
(look out for the gravel piles...and the dust, and the other car coming at us, and the cows and...)
After pushing/reversing the car out of the place it was trapped in, we put it in 4 wheel drive and gingerly moved on.
('No worries, mate')
Despite, the one point when I thought we were going to tip the tiny car over, we got to the Lake in one piece and commenced relaxing at a campsite bar.
A group of new arrivals to Tanzania were camping at Chala and were in awe (ha) to hear how long us old timers had been here. Nice to get some awe. My wife helpfully volunteered me as a guide for them to lead them down to the Lake in the Caldera, as I had gone down there before. Hoping I could remember the way, I set off and managed to get the group down to the water. They seemed happy. The wife and I jumped in to cool off, keeping an eye out for the crocs the Lake is supposed to be full of.
After scrambling back up and out of 'The Lost World', we headed off home in the dusk light. The trip home was slow and in fading light. The wife and I got out of the car a few times to lighten it as it pushed through the dust. Many times we had to stop altogether as visibility was zero either due to dust or sunstrike. I had to move a boulder at one point from the road so we could get past...what a ridiculous drive.
It was good to finally be back on the main road and heading back to Moshi under the setting sun.
That night we were all too tired to do much of anything except listen to music with some drinks before falling asleep. Sunday morning, Daudi shot off back to Arusha and the wife and I caught up with another Kiwi volunteering couple in Moshi.
After a swim at the YMCA pool with bikini clad white girls swimming with local orphans on an outing, while Tanzania guys look on and drool, we chilled out at home.
Another friend crashed at our house late Sunday night(the wife and I are so popular!) having endured a long bus ride from Dar Es Salaam Her tales of Zanzibar were inviting...but I'm getting a bit poor/tired...we'll see...I found her description of the 'human kitty litter' room intriguing ie a toilet that is just a room of sand for people to use...
That start of another work week...least the big boss is backing my play on the prison training debacle and overruling our line manager...I'm also glad the staff member that got the free trip to Malaysia (courtesy of a local bank as a thanks for depositing tons of donor money with them) enjoyed his visit there.
A pity the visit which was only possible due to donor money had absolutely nothing to do with our work or outcomes for our clients at all. And that the wife and I were ignored when we urged a formal process for determining how to get the most benefit for the organisation of this opportunity...but I hear the Malaysian Zoo is nice.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Juiced up Maniac
This blog entry has nothing really to do with Africa. Please ignore it and move to the next entry. It gets self indulgent. Yes, even more so than normal.
A few pieces of good news lately. Some co-workers have been stepping up, checking up on some sick clients of interest, backing my play re: refusing to pay the Govt Trainers for their poor HIV/AIDS prison training etc. Booking of travels within NZ in March is progressing (ie I got our Wellington volunteer office to contact travel bookers to tell them I was the real deal and not an African credit card scam!)
Today, more good news about a job waiting for me back home and-of most importance- some villains have been confirmed for Chris Nolan's upcoming third Batman movie 'The Dark Knight Rises' being Catwoman and Bane.
Who's Bane I hear you ask.
Just the strongman raised in a maximum security South American prison, created by writers to be an 'anti-Batman' who broke Batman mentally and physically in a long running 1990's cross-title story line. Who can beat Batman? This 16 year old wanted to find out, so fatefully put down his meagre Supermarket 'Produce Boy' wages into comic collecting.
Bane was the villainous trigger directly responsible for a lot of couple money fights, derision from my peers and unknown disposable income disappearing over the years into comics over the next 15 years. Infantile. Yet...maybe the steady diet of ridiculous two dimensional fisticuffs of men in spandex- as well as giving me a reduced attention span- in some subconcious way propelled me off into various human rights interests,if not African adventures. I dunno. I like the 'Pow! Biff! Bam!'
Dressing as Batman on my stag night in 2002 was definitely a life highlight. For one brief, alcohol mediated time (with a lot of support and trouble shooting from my friends that night) I was a super hero.
So when you see Bane up on the big screen in 2012, shake your head in derisive bemusement and think of me. Hell, I'll probably be sitting behind you in a Batsuit.
I am ridiculous. But I am happy.
A few pieces of good news lately. Some co-workers have been stepping up, checking up on some sick clients of interest, backing my play re: refusing to pay the Govt Trainers for their poor HIV/AIDS prison training etc. Booking of travels within NZ in March is progressing (ie I got our Wellington volunteer office to contact travel bookers to tell them I was the real deal and not an African credit card scam!)
Today, more good news about a job waiting for me back home and-of most importance- some villains have been confirmed for Chris Nolan's upcoming third Batman movie 'The Dark Knight Rises' being Catwoman and Bane.
Who's Bane I hear you ask.
Just the strongman raised in a maximum security South American prison, created by writers to be an 'anti-Batman' who broke Batman mentally and physically in a long running 1990's cross-title story line. Who can beat Batman? This 16 year old wanted to find out, so fatefully put down his meagre Supermarket 'Produce Boy' wages into comic collecting.
Bane was the villainous trigger directly responsible for a lot of couple money fights, derision from my peers and unknown disposable income disappearing over the years into comics over the next 15 years. Infantile. Yet...maybe the steady diet of ridiculous two dimensional fisticuffs of men in spandex- as well as giving me a reduced attention span- in some subconcious way propelled me off into various human rights interests,if not African adventures. I dunno. I like the 'Pow! Biff! Bam!'
Dressing as Batman on my stag night in 2002 was definitely a life highlight. For one brief, alcohol mediated time (with a lot of support and trouble shooting from my friends that night) I was a super hero.
So when you see Bane up on the big screen in 2012, shake your head in derisive bemusement and think of me. Hell, I'll probably be sitting behind you in a Batsuit.
I am ridiculous. But I am happy.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Stress, A Starving Kid and Birthday Squirrels
Listening to 'Old Enough to Rock and Roll' by Rainey from the soundtrack to the 1986 movie Iron Eagle-how obscure is that?? I loved that movie on VHS tape when I was um 12? Rambo for the teenage set. Something very therapeutic about 80's action movies, superhuman characters doing ridiculous things with one liners and somehow it all works out. Who needs 'skills exchange' or 'capacity building' in the fictional 80's world when you can just steal a jet fighter and force a developing country's government to accede to your demands...bliss.
I feel old some days. Like January 18th, my birthday.
I wasn't really looking forward to turning 33. Just kinda tired at the mo.
I took the day off work (there was no power there anyways) and spent the morning dealing with travel people back home convinced my use of a credit card over here to book flights back home was an African scam. Frustrating. But I guess credit card security is useful...
Had a nice luncheon at the Kili Java Cafe with the wife. She been treating me good on my special day. After lunch I hooked up with Dr Bob, my American chum and we drove out to Marangu (ie where the waterfalls are) on the slope of Kilimanjaro for a change of scene and man time. On the drive he told me about a sick/near death/neglected/abandoned/starving HIV/AIDS child he had seen that day in his village outreach work. Uplifting. Thanks Dr Bob. I filled in Dr Bob on some of the mechanisms that are supposed to exist (sigh) at the local level to help kids in serious trouble. If I can get some more details from Dr Bob ASAP, I can definitely get my NGO's contacts in the area to see what the heck is going on in the kid's home situation.
But yeah, so, so far I'm not in the best birthday mood.
We drove to the Kilimanjaro Mountain Resort an overpriced, well, resort and sat in a lush garden drinking wine, watching the squirrels and sunbirds at play. It was really nice, quite relaxing. Drove back to Moshi with the panorama of the Pare' Mountains and the Masai Plateau at dusk off to the left of the car. Such a beautiful country. A fitting end to an appropriately Tanzanian birthday (ie beauty + frustration+ anger/guilt inducing tale involving children).
33 years old. Thanks for all your birthday wishes.
Love, gramps.
I feel old some days. Like January 18th, my birthday.
I wasn't really looking forward to turning 33. Just kinda tired at the mo.
I took the day off work (there was no power there anyways) and spent the morning dealing with travel people back home convinced my use of a credit card over here to book flights back home was an African scam. Frustrating. But I guess credit card security is useful...
Had a nice luncheon at the Kili Java Cafe with the wife. She been treating me good on my special day. After lunch I hooked up with Dr Bob, my American chum and we drove out to Marangu (ie where the waterfalls are) on the slope of Kilimanjaro for a change of scene and man time. On the drive he told me about a sick/near death/neglected/abandoned/starving HIV/AIDS child he had seen that day in his village outreach work. Uplifting. Thanks Dr Bob. I filled in Dr Bob on some of the mechanisms that are supposed to exist (sigh) at the local level to help kids in serious trouble. If I can get some more details from Dr Bob ASAP, I can definitely get my NGO's contacts in the area to see what the heck is going on in the kid's home situation.
But yeah, so, so far I'm not in the best birthday mood.
We drove to the Kilimanjaro Mountain Resort an overpriced, well, resort and sat in a lush garden drinking wine, watching the squirrels and sunbirds at play. It was really nice, quite relaxing. Drove back to Moshi with the panorama of the Pare' Mountains and the Masai Plateau at dusk off to the left of the car. Such a beautiful country. A fitting end to an appropriately Tanzanian birthday (ie beauty + frustration+ anger/guilt inducing tale involving children).
33 years old. Thanks for all your birthday wishes.
Love, gramps.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Stranger in Moscow...I mean Moshi
This weekend was kinda mellow. Do anything really blog worthy? Um...Saturday, tried to do a 2.5 hour run in the heat of the day...did 1.5, hated the heat, was whining and stopping constantly, making it an ordeal for my trainer ie wife. Afterwards hung out with a Kiwi volunteer recently back from 'the Shire' AKA New Zealand. He was a bit low. But good to hang with him. Even if the Bacardi at dinner was ridiculous.
Sunday, tried to stay out of the heat,we had another friend (American) come to stay on her way through to Zanzibar. Good to chill. Um...what else..had a guy with glue sniffing fogged eyes getting angry that us 3 wouldn't look at his store..sigh. Ate street chicken...mm street chicken.
The wife and I love to catch up with other vollies. To see how our experiences compare. And its facinating to me how the stories I hear-despite our different backgrounds, places of work etc-do seem to follow a script:
1)-Volunteer comes in with good ideas about what they want to achieve
2)-Volunteer meets resistance, realise some members of the community/job staff have vested interests in keeping things the way they are
3) Volunteer hits rock bottom. They realises just how little the influential people who should care here actually do care about what you are both trying to achieve. Worse, a volunteer may uncover corruption, graft,crime, abuse and criminal neglect going on in your job/community...this is the pivotal moment where the volunteer's true character and the quality of their emotional support systems are revealed... can they detach? do they despair? drink into a stupor? get on with the job? or do they just want out? A person either give up at this point or resigns themselves to just doing what small gains they can and keeps pushing.
5)volunteer gets to the finish line that little bit older/wearier/wiser, hopefully having done a little bit of good.
I've heard variations on the above over and over. It doesn't apply to my experience of course though. Mine is more like:
-Manfred agrees to help train a friend do an exhibition bout with a massive Soviet boxer
-Soviet boxer kills friend in the ring
-Manfred swears revenge and undergoes a training montage (including mountain climbing) preparing for a do or die final battle with the Russian
No wait, that't the plot to Rocky 4....where was I?
ah...I'm just going to mentally run Rocky music through my head now...
Sunday, tried to stay out of the heat,we had another friend (American) come to stay on her way through to Zanzibar. Good to chill. Um...what else..had a guy with glue sniffing fogged eyes getting angry that us 3 wouldn't look at his store..sigh. Ate street chicken...mm street chicken.
The wife and I love to catch up with other vollies. To see how our experiences compare. And its facinating to me how the stories I hear-despite our different backgrounds, places of work etc-do seem to follow a script:
1)-Volunteer comes in with good ideas about what they want to achieve
2)-Volunteer meets resistance, realise some members of the community/job staff have vested interests in keeping things the way they are
3) Volunteer hits rock bottom. They realises just how little the influential people who should care here actually do care about what you are both trying to achieve. Worse, a volunteer may uncover corruption, graft,crime, abuse and criminal neglect going on in your job/community...this is the pivotal moment where the volunteer's true character and the quality of their emotional support systems are revealed... can they detach? do they despair? drink into a stupor? get on with the job? or do they just want out? A person either give up at this point or resigns themselves to just doing what small gains they can and keeps pushing.
5)volunteer gets to the finish line that little bit older/wearier/wiser, hopefully having done a little bit of good.
I've heard variations on the above over and over. It doesn't apply to my experience of course though. Mine is more like:
-Manfred agrees to help train a friend do an exhibition bout with a massive Soviet boxer
-Soviet boxer kills friend in the ring
-Manfred swears revenge and undergoes a training montage (including mountain climbing) preparing for a do or die final battle with the Russian
No wait, that't the plot to Rocky 4....where was I?
ah...I'm just going to mentally run Rocky music through my head now...
Friday, January 14, 2011
The Wedding Crasher
Congrats to Matt, my buddy since third form 1991 and Shiree on their wedding today (NZ time)-yay. And congrats to my cousin for her marriage in December. Marriage is cool. So I've had to miss at least two weddings back home being over here, those have probably been the hardest things to give up about not being in NZ.
Kinda awkward...both the wife and I just forgot our 8 year wedding anniversary (twas Jan 4th)...awkward. We only remembered a couple of days ago...oops. Finding it hard to place significance on milestones such as anniversaries, New Years Eve, Christmas etc when craziness is going on all the time here. Got my birthday coming up Tuesday up...finding it hard to really care...stupid aging process.
(have I been married 8 years? what the cuss?!)
Getting back to Matt and Shiree, as I write this blog entry my spy guest Bernardo is sending little email updates from the wedding in real time to my email on his remote device. Including a photo of mingling! I miss the mingling!
(I'm missing out its not fair! That champagne glass should be mine, Chucky!!)
The photo definitely made my FOMO (fear of missing out) a lot worse. Thanks Bernado.
It is pretty trippy to think of Bernardo in a nice shirt and tie sitting in his assigned seat at a table of nice wedding food in Wellington, feverishly tapping up updates to a guy (ie me!) sitting at a computer in a sweaty shirt, hiding from the sun, shovelling down
wali na nyama (rice and meat)in East Africa.
Rock on peeps, see ya soon!
Kinda awkward...both the wife and I just forgot our 8 year wedding anniversary (twas Jan 4th)...awkward. We only remembered a couple of days ago...oops. Finding it hard to place significance on milestones such as anniversaries, New Years Eve, Christmas etc when craziness is going on all the time here. Got my birthday coming up Tuesday up...finding it hard to really care...stupid aging process.
(have I been married 8 years? what the cuss?!)
Getting back to Matt and Shiree, as I write this blog entry my spy guest Bernardo is sending little email updates from the wedding in real time to my email on his remote device. Including a photo of mingling! I miss the mingling!
(I'm missing out its not fair! That champagne glass should be mine, Chucky!!)
The photo definitely made my FOMO (fear of missing out) a lot worse. Thanks Bernado.
It is pretty trippy to think of Bernardo in a nice shirt and tie sitting in his assigned seat at a table of nice wedding food in Wellington, feverishly tapping up updates to a guy (ie me!) sitting at a computer in a sweaty shirt, hiding from the sun, shovelling down
wali na nyama (rice and meat)in East Africa.
Rock on peeps, see ya soon!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Ripples
Lately, I have been Facebook chatting to a good friend in the UK; this morning the wife and I rang a tour company in Uganda, I've been texting another friend in New Orleans and I just finished gmail chatting to a fellow volunteer who is in Columbo, Sri Lanka for a wedding. When did I become so cosmopolitan?
In local news, there was no further violence at rallies/funerals organised by the opposition party in Arusha yesterday to commemorate the recent Police shootings. Phew.
'Under no circumstances are you to engage the enemy'
Murdock briefing Rambo in Rambo II
What I do have on today's plate however is a furious Government employee out for blood wandering in the office. My damning report about her crappy (sorry that was intolerant, I meant 'quality challenged') training for HIV/AIDS prisoners is holding up her collecting her expected pay cheque from my NGO. Sucks, but someone needed to take the bull by the horns. That's a metaphor. But it may still actually happen before day's end.
Don't worry, terrified readers, I'm making sure my report is read and owned by our own Monitoring and Evaluation Officer (chortle...sorry, love the title in a Tanzanian context) so I am not acting as a crazed lone (white) gunman taking on the Government. He can be pretty switched on, our M and E guy when he isn't bogged down in reactive work. He approached me at lunch to say our line manager had taken him aside to get his take on it all (ie the troublesome volunteer's latest crazy rantings) and he backed me and my take on the training to her 100%. Uplifting. He's taking his time to look at all my comments, it's great to see.
My line manager just seems dazed by this whole turn of events. Might help if she actually read emails, reports, anything once in a while. Out of her depth. Man, I'm harsh today..
She's begged me not to be too kali (fierce) about this. Cause I'm such a fierce person...I'm happy to meet with the trainers and discuss my concerns/rewrites but I can't give my assent to monies being paid (unless a boss overrules me) for training that is ridiculous. How does that help anyone??
Let's see what happens. Who knows what ripples will happen from this rock being thrown into the stagnant pool that is standardised State AIDS education.
mmm ETA ripples...
In local news, there was no further violence at rallies/funerals organised by the opposition party in Arusha yesterday to commemorate the recent Police shootings. Phew.
'Under no circumstances are you to engage the enemy'
Murdock briefing Rambo in Rambo II
What I do have on today's plate however is a furious Government employee out for blood wandering in the office. My damning report about her crappy (sorry that was intolerant, I meant 'quality challenged') training for HIV/AIDS prisoners is holding up her collecting her expected pay cheque from my NGO. Sucks, but someone needed to take the bull by the horns. That's a metaphor. But it may still actually happen before day's end.
Don't worry, terrified readers, I'm making sure my report is read and owned by our own Monitoring and Evaluation Officer (chortle...sorry, love the title in a Tanzanian context) so I am not acting as a crazed lone (white) gunman taking on the Government. He can be pretty switched on, our M and E guy when he isn't bogged down in reactive work. He approached me at lunch to say our line manager had taken him aside to get his take on it all (ie the troublesome volunteer's latest crazy rantings) and he backed me and my take on the training to her 100%. Uplifting. He's taking his time to look at all my comments, it's great to see.
My line manager just seems dazed by this whole turn of events. Might help if she actually read emails, reports, anything once in a while. Out of her depth. Man, I'm harsh today..
She's begged me not to be too kali (fierce) about this. Cause I'm such a fierce person...I'm happy to meet with the trainers and discuss my concerns/rewrites but I can't give my assent to monies being paid (unless a boss overrules me) for training that is ridiculous. How does that help anyone??
Let's see what happens. Who knows what ripples will happen from this rock being thrown into the stagnant pool that is standardised State AIDS education.
mmm ETA ripples...
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Lock Down
'I can't believe that the noblest impulse for man - his compassion for another - can be completely dead here'
Colonel Dax, Paths of Glory
I was given the chance to comment in writing on a report about Government training (contracted by my NGO) offered to prisoners who will provide cell based care to other prisoners living with HIV/AIDS. I note that I was not permitted by the Prison Service to attend the training session as they did not want white people there...seriously...could not speculate on what they were worried I might see.
The report reeked. The training reeks. Outdated, standardised by the numbers fluff designed for a completely different audience. No prison-context specific training discussion on things like nutrition, exercise, medical and legal support in a prison context. As I have spent the last year at my job back home working on humane detention issues with relation to prisons, excuse me for being a bit sensitive about these issues.
I made initial email comments to my manager on the substance of the training/report referencing among other things the 'UN Minimum Standards for the Treatment of Prisoners' with regards to minimum standards of how to treat sick prisoners. I said I needed to speak to our NGO staff members who were at this training session so as to confirm the quality of training which was given.
In response I was told a) our staff didn't even go to the training and b) I should not comment on the substance of the training only on the form of the report ie did it have a contents page? did it have an executive summary? did it have a nice conclusion heading? 'Stop rocking the boat Manfred and hurry up with this 'tickbox' report exercise please so the right people can get paid.'
Form over substance madness. Lamentably it happens quite a bit here. Yeah, yeah I get I work in Africa, normally I am a bit more detached but this was ridiculous. And I'm tired of it. The trainers, the NGO staff I work with...these are not poor people. They are doing (compared to our clients)very well on their Donor paid wages. Excuse me for thinking when we offer training to vulnerable prisoners with our NGO stamp on it that it should be er...relevant?
'There is a capital letter in the title page missing' Screw that. I'm drawing a line, if only for myself. I've written the negative draft report full of examples that I wanted to write and emailed it to a co-worker and my manager. Ha, they probably won't read it anyway.. Ho ho fun times (sob).I'm sure I will have to retract the draft and write a nice pat on the back one pager with a cheque clipped to the back.
I've had a good yak to a guy from our UK head office anyway about the impact of bureaucracy on the quality of the training we sanction so at least they are aware of it.
Stupid little games while a prisoner with AIDS sits in his cell, in pain because he is not taking adequate (quality and quantity) food with his anti-AIDS drugs. My tolerance for the apathy and indifference of the self interested, the well fed and the well paid here is waning...I need a vacation...where is this Kokomo place the Beach Boys keep singing about?
Colonel Dax, Paths of Glory
I was given the chance to comment in writing on a report about Government training (contracted by my NGO) offered to prisoners who will provide cell based care to other prisoners living with HIV/AIDS. I note that I was not permitted by the Prison Service to attend the training session as they did not want white people there...seriously...could not speculate on what they were worried I might see.
The report reeked. The training reeks. Outdated, standardised by the numbers fluff designed for a completely different audience. No prison-context specific training discussion on things like nutrition, exercise, medical and legal support in a prison context. As I have spent the last year at my job back home working on humane detention issues with relation to prisons, excuse me for being a bit sensitive about these issues.
I made initial email comments to my manager on the substance of the training/report referencing among other things the 'UN Minimum Standards for the Treatment of Prisoners' with regards to minimum standards of how to treat sick prisoners. I said I needed to speak to our NGO staff members who were at this training session so as to confirm the quality of training which was given.
In response I was told a) our staff didn't even go to the training and b) I should not comment on the substance of the training only on the form of the report ie did it have a contents page? did it have an executive summary? did it have a nice conclusion heading? 'Stop rocking the boat Manfred and hurry up with this 'tickbox' report exercise please so the right people can get paid.'
Form over substance madness. Lamentably it happens quite a bit here. Yeah, yeah I get I work in Africa, normally I am a bit more detached but this was ridiculous. And I'm tired of it. The trainers, the NGO staff I work with...these are not poor people. They are doing (compared to our clients)very well on their Donor paid wages. Excuse me for thinking when we offer training to vulnerable prisoners with our NGO stamp on it that it should be er...relevant?
'There is a capital letter in the title page missing' Screw that. I'm drawing a line, if only for myself. I've written the negative draft report full of examples that I wanted to write and emailed it to a co-worker and my manager. Ha, they probably won't read it anyway.. Ho ho fun times (sob).I'm sure I will have to retract the draft and write a nice pat on the back one pager with a cheque clipped to the back.
I've had a good yak to a guy from our UK head office anyway about the impact of bureaucracy on the quality of the training we sanction so at least they are aware of it.
Stupid little games while a prisoner with AIDS sits in his cell, in pain because he is not taking adequate (quality and quantity) food with his anti-AIDS drugs. My tolerance for the apathy and indifference of the self interested, the well fed and the well paid here is waning...I need a vacation...where is this Kokomo place the Beach Boys keep singing about?
Monday, January 10, 2011
Fly Hard 2: Fly Harder
Grant: You're the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time.
McClane: Story of my life.
Die Hard 2
So our flights home are almost finalised. Flying with Emirates. Looks like we leave Kilimanjaro early March, pop through Dar Es Salaam (the email I got says 'flying via Zanzibar' waaah?) to Dubai. I hear good things about the service on Emirates...I've flown with Israel's national carrier El Al Airlines before (awesome food) lets see how an Arab airline compares ;-)
Have 8 hours stopover in Dubai airport, before zipping off to Sydney (for an hour) before getting into Auckland. I will try to avoid terrorists and shadowy assassin squads in Dubai (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Assassination_of_Mahmoud_Al-Mabhouh).
I should be more excited about being in Dubai as I had wanted to visit that strange futuristic city in the desert for years, but ah...feel a bit tired at this stage. Just need to get back to the Kiwi Motherland I think and start the goodwill touring of family scattered around two islands.
But on the flight to Tanzania in March '10 we got diverted to Amsterdam and flew over the Ural Mountains in Soviet...er..I mean normal Russia...who knows what dramas/travesties could happen on this long haul flight home...
Yippee Ki Yay
McClane: Story of my life.
Die Hard 2
So our flights home are almost finalised. Flying with Emirates. Looks like we leave Kilimanjaro early March, pop through Dar Es Salaam (the email I got says 'flying via Zanzibar' waaah?) to Dubai. I hear good things about the service on Emirates...I've flown with Israel's national carrier El Al Airlines before (awesome food) lets see how an Arab airline compares ;-)
Have 8 hours stopover in Dubai airport, before zipping off to Sydney (for an hour) before getting into Auckland. I will try to avoid terrorists and shadowy assassin squads in Dubai (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Assassination_of_Mahmoud_Al-Mabhouh).
I should be more excited about being in Dubai as I had wanted to visit that strange futuristic city in the desert for years, but ah...feel a bit tired at this stage. Just need to get back to the Kiwi Motherland I think and start the goodwill touring of family scattered around two islands.
But on the flight to Tanzania in March '10 we got diverted to Amsterdam and flew over the Ural Mountains in Soviet...er..I mean normal Russia...who knows what dramas/travesties could happen on this long haul flight home...
Yippee Ki Yay
The Wild, Wild West
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-12126861
Okay, Arusha is way too close to Moshi to have Police opening fire on violent protesters. This is shocking. Interesting talking to an older local guy (whose opinion on local politics I respect a lot) at work who had a very interesting perspective on how the situation escalated. Let's just say...Kiwis: don't take it for granted that back home people with differing views to the county's leaders have the freedom to demonstrate peacefully/have a say back home without a fear of Police-acting in the interests of the ruling party- allegedly beating them and an escalation of a tense situation into 'Gunfight at the OK Corral'.
My weekend in Moshi was pretty tame by comparison. My peeling, mildly frost bitten from-Kilimanjaro-climb fingers are healing okay. Somehow staggered through a 2 hour training run-was happy but sore afterwards. Read books, relaxed. Watched stand up comedy on a lap top at a friend's house. Went for a swim.
I'm in a crabby mood of late. Unsettled. Work is bugging me. I'm running out of time to do some things I consider (and I thought they considered) to be important...but people seem a bit disinterested or hectic on things that don't seem that important. In dark moments I wonder how much some people working in aid/charity/development actually care about their target populations of vulnerable people...or whether so long as they get a steady, comfortable donor paid salary, they are not that fussed with doing a good job.
Development is an interesting industry fo sho...corrupting I tells you. Ah, you do what you can.
I think what's mostly putting me in a bad mood is that while I am ambivalent about the work here is a lot about living here I am going to miss a lot. The sense of freedom and rawness. Friendly people in the communities.
And don't get me started on the wildlife...sigh...
I'm reading a non-fiction book called 'Babylon's Ark' about a South African Conservationist (Lawrence Anthony) who went to Baghdad just after the end of the initial American invasion to try to restore/save what was once one of the leading Zoo in Arabia and help a score of shell-shocked, starving creatures.
Aside from some interesting insights into how you effect humanitarian changes in a war zone, the author's discussion of his affinity/respect for the wild animals and bush of his native South Africa touches a chord. I'm not even that outdoorsy a type that what's so funny...but I will miss the outdoors here a lot. A big lot. Its a difficult feeling to articulate without coming across as some rock hyrax hugging vegetarian, animal rights hippy...
but its more primal than that. Go stalk an elephant on foot some time in your life, you'll get what I'm on about.
Okay, Arusha is way too close to Moshi to have Police opening fire on violent protesters. This is shocking. Interesting talking to an older local guy (whose opinion on local politics I respect a lot) at work who had a very interesting perspective on how the situation escalated. Let's just say...Kiwis: don't take it for granted that back home people with differing views to the county's leaders have the freedom to demonstrate peacefully/have a say back home without a fear of Police-acting in the interests of the ruling party- allegedly beating them and an escalation of a tense situation into 'Gunfight at the OK Corral'.
My weekend in Moshi was pretty tame by comparison. My peeling, mildly frost bitten from-Kilimanjaro-climb fingers are healing okay. Somehow staggered through a 2 hour training run-was happy but sore afterwards. Read books, relaxed. Watched stand up comedy on a lap top at a friend's house. Went for a swim.
I'm in a crabby mood of late. Unsettled. Work is bugging me. I'm running out of time to do some things I consider (and I thought they considered) to be important...but people seem a bit disinterested or hectic on things that don't seem that important. In dark moments I wonder how much some people working in aid/charity/development actually care about their target populations of vulnerable people...or whether so long as they get a steady, comfortable donor paid salary, they are not that fussed with doing a good job.
Development is an interesting industry fo sho...corrupting I tells you. Ah, you do what you can.
I think what's mostly putting me in a bad mood is that while I am ambivalent about the work here is a lot about living here I am going to miss a lot. The sense of freedom and rawness. Friendly people in the communities.
And don't get me started on the wildlife...sigh...
I'm reading a non-fiction book called 'Babylon's Ark' about a South African Conservationist (Lawrence Anthony) who went to Baghdad just after the end of the initial American invasion to try to restore/save what was once one of the leading Zoo in Arabia and help a score of shell-shocked, starving creatures.
Aside from some interesting insights into how you effect humanitarian changes in a war zone, the author's discussion of his affinity/respect for the wild animals and bush of his native South Africa touches a chord. I'm not even that outdoorsy a type that what's so funny...but I will miss the outdoors here a lot. A big lot. Its a difficult feeling to articulate without coming across as some rock hyrax hugging vegetarian, animal rights hippy...
but its more primal than that. Go stalk an elephant on foot some time in your life, you'll get what I'm on about.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Super Speed...needed
My post Kili climb marathon training has been, shall we say, subdued. I blame my legs still being a bit tight/sore after the climb (whinge, whinge). I struggled with an hour and a half run on Saturday. Two 30 minute 'threshold' runs on the last two days have hurt. Feeling a bit dubious about the Kilimanjaro marathon at the mo...and its getting closer (Feb 27th)! Time is running faster and faster. I am (to date) not.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Slam dunk
We just got a somber announcement that a colleague's employment here has been 'terminated'. Apparently because the person 'did not deliver'. (I won't make the comment that if everyone I've worked with here who didn't 'deliver' got fired it could be a fairly empty office).
I loathed the guy but I still feel sorry for him. I think about all the years of mentors/teams/managers I have had back home in my career path pruning, disciplining, encouraging me through setbacks and triumphs and what I'd be like if I never had any of that. I was a little lazy horror in my first job (milk run in Clive '91). Then there was the time working in Produce in Write Price Supermarket in '96 that I was too lazy to turn over produce stock and all the potatoes went rotten. I got blasted for that. And so on.
So I've needed the growlings and encouragement from bosses that make you grow professionally and personally. I could totally own that milk run now.
So to some extent, in an environment where people are encouraged to be secretive with information, to not develop others (ie cause then an underling will potentially take a superior's job-thats the fear), where autocratic hierarchies stifle teamwork and innovation, where form, connections to the right people and 'tenure' is valued over substance and demonstrable results...I wonder how much a specific person here is actually to blame for an ingrained work ethic (or lack thereof).
Then again he took it to an all time low. I reflect on the porters I climbed Kili with who worked their guts out for their money and a chance to develop into Guides while this guy was sitting reading the paper for hours at his desk on his far-above-decent NGO salary.
So, despite environment, a person has to want it as well I think.
Ah, he'll be fine the guy is connected to the right fat cats here, I'm sure he'll land on his feet in an important public service post.
I loved how my wife asked the Human Resources Guy who was announcing the termination if the fire-ee was having a farewell party.
Ha, I love my wife so much. And this sitcom of an office. And this tragi-comedy of a country.
Peace through the Pieces
I loathed the guy but I still feel sorry for him. I think about all the years of mentors/teams/managers I have had back home in my career path pruning, disciplining, encouraging me through setbacks and triumphs and what I'd be like if I never had any of that. I was a little lazy horror in my first job (milk run in Clive '91). Then there was the time working in Produce in Write Price Supermarket in '96 that I was too lazy to turn over produce stock and all the potatoes went rotten. I got blasted for that. And so on.
So I've needed the growlings and encouragement from bosses that make you grow professionally and personally. I could totally own that milk run now.
So to some extent, in an environment where people are encouraged to be secretive with information, to not develop others (ie cause then an underling will potentially take a superior's job-thats the fear), where autocratic hierarchies stifle teamwork and innovation, where form, connections to the right people and 'tenure' is valued over substance and demonstrable results...I wonder how much a specific person here is actually to blame for an ingrained work ethic (or lack thereof).
Then again he took it to an all time low. I reflect on the porters I climbed Kili with who worked their guts out for their money and a chance to develop into Guides while this guy was sitting reading the paper for hours at his desk on his far-above-decent NGO salary.
So, despite environment, a person has to want it as well I think.
Ah, he'll be fine the guy is connected to the right fat cats here, I'm sure he'll land on his feet in an important public service post.
I loved how my wife asked the Human Resources Guy who was announcing the termination if the fire-ee was having a farewell party.
Ha, I love my wife so much. And this sitcom of an office. And this tragi-comedy of a country.
Peace through the Pieces
Sunday, January 2, 2011
New Years Day
The Sad and True Story of Cudsley
So it was New Years Eve and it was hot. Perhaps we are not used to it after the baridi sana (extreme cold)of Kilimanjaro. Saw our Volunteer Handler on an infrequent visit to Moshi. He passed me a Nintendo Game I had a mule bring out to Tanzania…’Oh yeah…my kid brother will love this’ I said unconvincingly. Our handler, a former Kilimanjaro Porter, did however approve of the Kilimanjaro photos we showed him.
We tootled off home and I burnt out my eyes playing Sonic the Hedgehog for hours…I mean I sat at home and thought about deep development-related things. Then we heard a goat loudly bleating. The wife and I went outside to see a handsome, white goat tied up to the side of the landladies’ house. The goat had no food or water. We gave it some grass which it eagerly chewed. One of us named it ‘Cudsley’. Ok, it was me. In retrospect, perhaps I should not have named it.
Because just then our landlady came out and graciously invited the two of us to a family feast her family were having on New Years Day with Cudsley as the star attraction. The wife looked green, I looked shy and we said we would be happy to come.
I spent the next few hours were spent consoling my tearful vegetarian wife that Cudsley was probably going to a better place and that it was a real treat for this Chagga tribe family to devour him. His poor twitching little brown speckled ears...
The rest of New Years Eve was a fairly mellow affair having dinner and a drink with an American friend. As we sat in ‘The Cool Bar’, I was a terrible listener to the conversation, my attention transfixed by the Wrestling ‘Friday Night Smackdown’ show playing on the TV in the bar. I am a bad friend…but how I do love catching wrestling in Africa. Its so wrong, yet so addictive. I blame videogames for giving me a short attention span...
After a few more drinks, the wife did one halting dance to ‘Shaggy’ then we called it a night. We must be getting older. Started to doze off before midnight, but got woken up by fireworks and revelry. Roll on 2011. My resolution? To settle back into NZ life and do boring adult things for a bit.
Nothing changes, on New Years Day
U2
It was New Years Day Proper and Cudsley was suspiciously silent. And a lot of smoke was pouring up from the side of the house. After a halting, poor effort run for marathon training, the wife made some fudge and I lazed around (playing more games) before we headed to the lawn party at 3pm. The family and friends we met were all very gracious about these random wazungu crashing their annual get together.
But…we got sat at the kids table. Nothing changes. At first the kids were shy but they soon opened up and with great English and enthusiasm. Picture the wife and I and high school/university age kids talking about soccer, wrestling, NZ versus Tanzania demographics, malaria, home brewed alcohol etc etc. A couple of the 16 year olds we were talking to were engaged…um….I was politely congratulatory…All the while bits of Cudsley in soup, meat and ribs form was circulating as I ate double helpings so the wife would not be seen as rude. The kids were laughing a lot at the scruffy muzungu guy shoveling fatty bits of goat rapidly down (and dropping it on his clothes). The kids also loved the wife’s fudge and the fireworks-that a friend passed us- we gave them.
So as it got dark and we said our goodbyes to the family, I reflected it was not a bad night at all. However, it did make me miss my family being at a different family's gathering.
Back to work on Jan 3rd boo!! Two months to go, starting to look towards the finish line. Got final reports to write and some kind of human rights tool/dohickey thing to leave before I go. (insert Tui advert)
(Nativity Scene from the local Catholic Cathedral. Absent: Cudsley the Goat)
So it was New Years Eve and it was hot. Perhaps we are not used to it after the baridi sana (extreme cold)of Kilimanjaro. Saw our Volunteer Handler on an infrequent visit to Moshi. He passed me a Nintendo Game I had a mule bring out to Tanzania…’Oh yeah…my kid brother will love this’ I said unconvincingly. Our handler, a former Kilimanjaro Porter, did however approve of the Kilimanjaro photos we showed him.
We tootled off home and I burnt out my eyes playing Sonic the Hedgehog for hours…I mean I sat at home and thought about deep development-related things. Then we heard a goat loudly bleating. The wife and I went outside to see a handsome, white goat tied up to the side of the landladies’ house. The goat had no food or water. We gave it some grass which it eagerly chewed. One of us named it ‘Cudsley’. Ok, it was me. In retrospect, perhaps I should not have named it.
Because just then our landlady came out and graciously invited the two of us to a family feast her family were having on New Years Day with Cudsley as the star attraction. The wife looked green, I looked shy and we said we would be happy to come.
I spent the next few hours were spent consoling my tearful vegetarian wife that Cudsley was probably going to a better place and that it was a real treat for this Chagga tribe family to devour him. His poor twitching little brown speckled ears...
The rest of New Years Eve was a fairly mellow affair having dinner and a drink with an American friend. As we sat in ‘The Cool Bar’, I was a terrible listener to the conversation, my attention transfixed by the Wrestling ‘Friday Night Smackdown’ show playing on the TV in the bar. I am a bad friend…but how I do love catching wrestling in Africa. Its so wrong, yet so addictive. I blame videogames for giving me a short attention span...
After a few more drinks, the wife did one halting dance to ‘Shaggy’ then we called it a night. We must be getting older. Started to doze off before midnight, but got woken up by fireworks and revelry. Roll on 2011. My resolution? To settle back into NZ life and do boring adult things for a bit.
Nothing changes, on New Years Day
U2
It was New Years Day Proper and Cudsley was suspiciously silent. And a lot of smoke was pouring up from the side of the house. After a halting, poor effort run for marathon training, the wife made some fudge and I lazed around (playing more games) before we headed to the lawn party at 3pm. The family and friends we met were all very gracious about these random wazungu crashing their annual get together.
But…we got sat at the kids table. Nothing changes. At first the kids were shy but they soon opened up and with great English and enthusiasm. Picture the wife and I and high school/university age kids talking about soccer, wrestling, NZ versus Tanzania demographics, malaria, home brewed alcohol etc etc. A couple of the 16 year olds we were talking to were engaged…um….I was politely congratulatory…All the while bits of Cudsley in soup, meat and ribs form was circulating as I ate double helpings so the wife would not be seen as rude. The kids were laughing a lot at the scruffy muzungu guy shoveling fatty bits of goat rapidly down (and dropping it on his clothes). The kids also loved the wife’s fudge and the fireworks-that a friend passed us- we gave them.
So as it got dark and we said our goodbyes to the family, I reflected it was not a bad night at all. However, it did make me miss my family being at a different family's gathering.
Back to work on Jan 3rd boo!! Two months to go, starting to look towards the finish line. Got final reports to write and some kind of human rights tool/dohickey thing to leave before I go. (insert Tui advert)
(Nativity Scene from the local Catholic Cathedral. Absent: Cudsley the Goat)
Kili Epilouge-Recuperating at Boundary Hill Lodge
So. We had finished the climb of Kilimanjaro and were feeling drained. Needed to catch up on sleep. I was having too many post-Mountain climbing tantrums. Needed some time out. And what better place to recuperate than Boundary Hill Lodge near Tarangire National Park, that we had had such an awesome time at in August.
We stopped in Arusha to pay the owner our money for our stay. We admired his garden and the sunbirds and the mongeese it contained.
The area around the Lodge all looked very different as we got there after the 2 hour drive off the main road. Last time we were there it was the dry season. Now, it was all so green.
The Masaai who worked there remembered us and the elephant/lioness dramas we saw last time.
There would not be some many animals around this time round as the rain and plentiful grass meant the big creatures would stay put inside the National Park. No biggie. There were tons of birds everywhere. The bird geek in me loved seeing a nightjar racing around at dusk catching insects.
For 2 days or so we just ate and napped and read and relaxed. Lots of balcony bath usage. All interspersed with the odd walking safari. Saw recent evidence of lion (pug marks near the Lodge) and leopard activity (dead impala in a tree). Followed a chattering honey guide bird as it tried to lead us to a bees nest to get the honey for it. Watched leopard tortoises newly woken from hibernation getting on with eating.
(wife and baby tortoise)
Tasted Marula berries from the bush (much more tart than the Amarula drink that I love). Saw a massive buffalo carcase that had been taken down by 2 lionesses some weeks ago. Pretty much picked clean. We noted vulture feathers in its ribs.
(hungry kiwi meets buffalo ribs)
I had a hot balcony bath one day at noon (dumb idea, noon sun=sauna) and as I panted in the heat, I watched local Masai cow herds coming in close into the conservation area around the Lodge. Illegal? Possibly. But who's going to tell Masai where they can or can’t graze. Not me. They have been displaced from a lot of conservation areas…whose rights prevail? A semi-nomadic grazing culture of long history or the vital-to-the-tourist dollar conservation areas? What does the ‘law’ mean in a country where the law is so poorly drafted and even more terribly enforced..My brain hurts. I blame the hot bath.
Our last nature walk on the second to last day was a bit melancholy. Possibly the last time I will walk near the Lodge outdoors-if not in the Tanzanian wild outdoors- for a while. Thunder rumbled overhead. Then a nice rainbow showed over the plain…a sign of hope? a portent of new beginnings? or just light refracting through water? I dunno. Getting maudlin. I will miss the outdoors here, so very much.
December 30th, it was time to leave. I tried to be stoic as our friends who work there asked us when we would be back. Dunno. Kwaheri Emmanuel, Moses, Lazarus, Loy and others, I'll miss your warmth and patience with our atrocious Swahili.
We travelled back to Moshi with some Aussies but I only half registered their earnest volunteer related conversations. No more nighttime baths under the stars listening to night birds and hyenas calling in the dark. No more tracking elephant near the Lodge on foot. No more plains outside my window.
Sigh. Roll on New Years Eve and drinking.
We stopped in Arusha to pay the owner our money for our stay. We admired his garden and the sunbirds and the mongeese it contained.
The area around the Lodge all looked very different as we got there after the 2 hour drive off the main road. Last time we were there it was the dry season. Now, it was all so green.
The Masaai who worked there remembered us and the elephant/lioness dramas we saw last time.
There would not be some many animals around this time round as the rain and plentiful grass meant the big creatures would stay put inside the National Park. No biggie. There were tons of birds everywhere. The bird geek in me loved seeing a nightjar racing around at dusk catching insects.
For 2 days or so we just ate and napped and read and relaxed. Lots of balcony bath usage. All interspersed with the odd walking safari. Saw recent evidence of lion (pug marks near the Lodge) and leopard activity (dead impala in a tree). Followed a chattering honey guide bird as it tried to lead us to a bees nest to get the honey for it. Watched leopard tortoises newly woken from hibernation getting on with eating.
(wife and baby tortoise)
Tasted Marula berries from the bush (much more tart than the Amarula drink that I love). Saw a massive buffalo carcase that had been taken down by 2 lionesses some weeks ago. Pretty much picked clean. We noted vulture feathers in its ribs.
(hungry kiwi meets buffalo ribs)
I had a hot balcony bath one day at noon (dumb idea, noon sun=sauna) and as I panted in the heat, I watched local Masai cow herds coming in close into the conservation area around the Lodge. Illegal? Possibly. But who's going to tell Masai where they can or can’t graze. Not me. They have been displaced from a lot of conservation areas…whose rights prevail? A semi-nomadic grazing culture of long history or the vital-to-the-tourist dollar conservation areas? What does the ‘law’ mean in a country where the law is so poorly drafted and even more terribly enforced..My brain hurts. I blame the hot bath.
Our last nature walk on the second to last day was a bit melancholy. Possibly the last time I will walk near the Lodge outdoors-if not in the Tanzanian wild outdoors- for a while. Thunder rumbled overhead. Then a nice rainbow showed over the plain…a sign of hope? a portent of new beginnings? or just light refracting through water? I dunno. Getting maudlin. I will miss the outdoors here, so very much.
December 30th, it was time to leave. I tried to be stoic as our friends who work there asked us when we would be back. Dunno. Kwaheri Emmanuel, Moses, Lazarus, Loy and others, I'll miss your warmth and patience with our atrocious Swahili.
We travelled back to Moshi with some Aussies but I only half registered their earnest volunteer related conversations. No more nighttime baths under the stars listening to night birds and hyenas calling in the dark. No more tracking elephant near the Lodge on foot. No more plains outside my window.
Sigh. Roll on New Years Eve and drinking.
Kili Climb Day 7-Finale
Day 7, our knees were sore and we still felt pretty exhausted despite a lot of sleep. A 5-6 hour walk down past Mweka Camp to the Mweka Gate (1630 m) awaited us. I was in great spirits at the start.
(wife on the move down)
Despite some rocky bits and constant steps going down, it was great to be back in forest, to see insects and birds. As we got lower we saw blue monkeys going about their foraging. Made me realise how much I love critters big and small around me going on about their business. I realised I didn't actually didn't LOVE being up on a mountain too long-too rocky, empty, desolate and inhospitable. More of a nature lover than a mountaineer at heart I guess.
As we tootled past Mweka Camp we saw the big Tanzanian I had seen struggling up to Stella Point the day or so before on a stretcher on a uni-wheel. No odema apparently according to our guide but just total exhaustion. Interesting how altitude and exercise (as I saw to some extent with the wife) if pushed too far just makes the body go 'Enough!'. 8 porters struggled to get the stretcher moving and as we watched agape, they picked up speed and raced off, bumping down steps and slopes. Hope that guy got down in one piece. As my knees started to hurt more and more from the constant steps down, I became envious of the stretcher man.
Our guide had told us to move as quick as we could down through the rainforest to try to avoid the periodic torrential rains the Mountain brings at its lower levels. I guess Chunga forgot the wife adn I are the slowest wazungu ever. I picked up some litter I found on the trail hoping the Mountain would repay me by keeping the weather fine. However, as we soldiered on down, the cloud cover got more and more extensive. We dodged long columns of siafu (big biting ants) fleeing the pending deluge. Finally the heavens opened and we were bucketed on. It was like standing in the shower at home on full bore.
We were too tired to change into all our wet weather gear, so we just pushed on. I have an image in my head of my wife with a set, determined face keeping up a steady pace through torrential rain, over an increasingly muddy path, with streams of brown water rushing past her to either side of the track. Go, mke!, go!
The Mountain seemed to be reminding the humans who had the temerity to climb it who was the boss. So utterly soaked, my cellphone ruined, my diary waterlogged we finally staggered down to the Mweka Gate around 330pm to the clapping and cheers of our fellow American climbers. Took us a leisurely 7 hours to get down (should have only taken 5), despite going as fast as we could on muddy terrain through a downpour. We were beat.
Our vehicle shot off to rescue an elderly American walker who was in trouble getting down the last stretch, before we clambered in and headed to Glacier Inn in Moshi (back to 800 m yay!) for a celebratory drink (Kilimanjaro beer of course) and eats with our fellow climbers. Just relieved it was all over. The wife said she was happier to get down rather than to get to the Summit!
After stopping in the tourist office to pay for the extra day we added, get our Kilimanjaro climbing certificates (respect!) we headed off home for much needed showers, clean clothes and relaxing. Then we had to sort out gear we needed to return to the hire place and pack for our trip to Boundary Hill Lodge the next day for some R and R.
Phew. We survived. My fingers and my wife's toes still feel oddly numb. Hmm.
Manfred the Mountaineering Manatee, out.
'Bite off more than you can chew and then chew like hell.'
Peter Brock
(wife on the move down)
Despite some rocky bits and constant steps going down, it was great to be back in forest, to see insects and birds. As we got lower we saw blue monkeys going about their foraging. Made me realise how much I love critters big and small around me going on about their business. I realised I didn't actually didn't LOVE being up on a mountain too long-too rocky, empty, desolate and inhospitable. More of a nature lover than a mountaineer at heart I guess.
As we tootled past Mweka Camp we saw the big Tanzanian I had seen struggling up to Stella Point the day or so before on a stretcher on a uni-wheel. No odema apparently according to our guide but just total exhaustion. Interesting how altitude and exercise (as I saw to some extent with the wife) if pushed too far just makes the body go 'Enough!'. 8 porters struggled to get the stretcher moving and as we watched agape, they picked up speed and raced off, bumping down steps and slopes. Hope that guy got down in one piece. As my knees started to hurt more and more from the constant steps down, I became envious of the stretcher man.
Our guide had told us to move as quick as we could down through the rainforest to try to avoid the periodic torrential rains the Mountain brings at its lower levels. I guess Chunga forgot the wife adn I are the slowest wazungu ever. I picked up some litter I found on the trail hoping the Mountain would repay me by keeping the weather fine. However, as we soldiered on down, the cloud cover got more and more extensive. We dodged long columns of siafu (big biting ants) fleeing the pending deluge. Finally the heavens opened and we were bucketed on. It was like standing in the shower at home on full bore.
We were too tired to change into all our wet weather gear, so we just pushed on. I have an image in my head of my wife with a set, determined face keeping up a steady pace through torrential rain, over an increasingly muddy path, with streams of brown water rushing past her to either side of the track. Go, mke!, go!
The Mountain seemed to be reminding the humans who had the temerity to climb it who was the boss. So utterly soaked, my cellphone ruined, my diary waterlogged we finally staggered down to the Mweka Gate around 330pm to the clapping and cheers of our fellow American climbers. Took us a leisurely 7 hours to get down (should have only taken 5), despite going as fast as we could on muddy terrain through a downpour. We were beat.
Our vehicle shot off to rescue an elderly American walker who was in trouble getting down the last stretch, before we clambered in and headed to Glacier Inn in Moshi (back to 800 m yay!) for a celebratory drink (Kilimanjaro beer of course) and eats with our fellow climbers. Just relieved it was all over. The wife said she was happier to get down rather than to get to the Summit!
After stopping in the tourist office to pay for the extra day we added, get our Kilimanjaro climbing certificates (respect!) we headed off home for much needed showers, clean clothes and relaxing. Then we had to sort out gear we needed to return to the hire place and pack for our trip to Boundary Hill Lodge the next day for some R and R.
Phew. We survived. My fingers and my wife's toes still feel oddly numb. Hmm.
Manfred the Mountaineering Manatee, out.
'Bite off more than you can chew and then chew like hell.'
Peter Brock
Kili Climb Day 6, Christmas Day and SUMMIT DAY!!
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
Luke 2:14
A porter woke us up at 11pm Day 5, got some coffee and biscuits- by candle light- into us. Last check of gear and as it became Midnight on Christmas Day, off we went on the Summit assault. 7-8 hours of uber steep slog awaits into thin atmosphere. A nice clear night, with a brilliant moon overhead.
We saw a train of fellow climbers with head lamps, slowly and silently starting the route up. Surreal, it looked like a train of pilgrims heading on a Christmas Day pilgrimage. Maybe it was just my over-active imagination.
The first part of the climb was okay, then it got hellish. A steep zig-zagging route on unstable dirt and scree for hour upon hour, heading constantly up to Stella Point (5730m high). One of the hardest things mentally I've had to do, just to keep making yourself go. Felt like crying. Felt like praying. The few rests we stopped for were somber affairs, its too cold to stop for long. The wind was mostly absent but when we did feel it, it was like being stabbed. You stop too long, you get sleepy and you either go back or you die. The wife was a trooper. On and on we went, my lungs cramping, both the wife and I checking noses and spit in a paranoia for any signs of blood. Up and up in the silent moonlight, the smaller Mawenzi peak looming over a huge valley in the distance behind us. A quick 'Merry Xmas' smooch break.
We saw a large Tanzanian tourist obviously in a lot of trouble/distress being repeatedly coaxed to go higher. I expressed concern to our Guide about the ethics of making that guy keep going up, but he did not seem to think there was an issue. We sadly passed the struggling guy by. I do worry about the incentive on guides to push people on and on in order to get bigger tips from getting them to the Summit (or alternatively rescuing them from serious altitude issues). You do have to watch out for yourself and spouse a bit, can't totally trust anyone else.
After hours of this torment we finally, as dawn started to appear, at the end of our strength got to the top of the climb and to Stella Point.
Onto the Summit
At Stella Point (5730 m) we could see the red dawn lighting up the distant Mawenzi Peak as well as the ice cap/glaciers we were now at.
(dawn comes over distant Mawenzi Peak)
I felt a moment of euphoria to see the glaciers. So massive, yet getting smaller every year due to climate change. Africa was far, far below. I was breathing fairly okay and aside from a bit of a headache didn't feel too bad. The wife was exhausted, she did not seem as happy as me to have made the top...hmm. We saw the ridge winding away towards Uhuru Peak and set off on the 30-45 minute trudge past the glaciers to the Summit.
(almost there, wifey)
'For Ar-Pharazon wavered at the end, and almost he turned back. His heart misgave him when he looked upon...Taniquetil shining, whiter than snow,colder than death, silent, immutable, terrible as the shadow of the light of Iluvatar'
The Silmarillion
My euphoria began to be replaced by disquiet and a sense of foreboding. It was so alien up there at the top with the massive, silent glaciers.
This was not a place for people to hang and shoot the breeze. As Legolas says in Fellowship of the Rings 'We cannot linger'. Sorry, all the scale puts this geek in a Tolkien quoting mood. Felt like intruders up there. If something went really wrong up there, you're too high to necessarily escape a bad result. Manfred kept praying and reminding Mungu of his good deeds in the past year. All 2 of them.
My concern about the wife was growing slowly. The guides took her bag off her.I didn't think she had serious altitude sickness, just she was utterly spent. Plus a touch of the altitude that everyone gets up there, being that high. We kept trudging onto the Summit proper. It was taking longer to get there than I liked. I noticed my vision was starting to go a bit weird, the glaciers were looking a bit fuzzy. The wife later told me she had grey spots in her vision too. Hm. I had taken off my gloves to take pictures and they were going numb. Felt light headed.
Finally,we staggered to the sign that marked the Summit. A Petone shirt at the Roof of Africa, 5895 metres high, surely that's a world first? Joyful fellow climbers (some in Santa hats) hugged, took photos and wished each other a Merry Christmas. We took the obligatory Summit photos pretty quick, we didn't want to stay there too long.
(yay!)
The guides then said they were going to assist Franatee down to a safe altitude. I concurred with them. She needed to get down to a safe altitude quick. So two guides grabbed her and soon were dragging her off at lightening speed down to Stella Point and then down the long, slippery way towards Base Camp. Kiboko was left pretty much to make his own way down alone. I was worried for the wife, I did not like seeing her being raced off like a sack of potatoes. I wondered if she felt the same way when she saw me get attacked some months ago.
I reflected on the trudge/fall over/repeat way down the scree zig zag as to the necessity or not of doing this whole enterprise and how I would feel if something serious happened to my mate.
Fortunately, I met up with her an hour or so later at lower altitude and she looked fine. Yay for oxygen. Lots of congratulations from staff and porters for Kiboko. We slowly made our way back to our tent. A bit of a rest and food and then it was off on the long walk down to Millennium Camp (3790 m) for the night. Would be great to be at lower altitude. The walk there took a long time, we were just so tired from the day/night before. Nice to see some green and birds again when we got there. After dinner we pretty much fell into dead sleeps.
The best and worst day ever. We made it up and back safe and well. We faced fears of not being able to get to the top and got to the top. I feel humbled though too. Not super keen to climb Mountains again anytime soon. Nor do anything that could risk me or my wife's life to a great extent.
But boy, those glaciers were purty. Got to see them before they are gone forever...
To Be Concluded
(humans and puppet mascots at Millennium Camp safe and well)
Luke 2:14
A porter woke us up at 11pm Day 5, got some coffee and biscuits- by candle light- into us. Last check of gear and as it became Midnight on Christmas Day, off we went on the Summit assault. 7-8 hours of uber steep slog awaits into thin atmosphere. A nice clear night, with a brilliant moon overhead.
We saw a train of fellow climbers with head lamps, slowly and silently starting the route up. Surreal, it looked like a train of pilgrims heading on a Christmas Day pilgrimage. Maybe it was just my over-active imagination.
The first part of the climb was okay, then it got hellish. A steep zig-zagging route on unstable dirt and scree for hour upon hour, heading constantly up to Stella Point (5730m high). One of the hardest things mentally I've had to do, just to keep making yourself go. Felt like crying. Felt like praying. The few rests we stopped for were somber affairs, its too cold to stop for long. The wind was mostly absent but when we did feel it, it was like being stabbed. You stop too long, you get sleepy and you either go back or you die. The wife was a trooper. On and on we went, my lungs cramping, both the wife and I checking noses and spit in a paranoia for any signs of blood. Up and up in the silent moonlight, the smaller Mawenzi peak looming over a huge valley in the distance behind us. A quick 'Merry Xmas' smooch break.
We saw a large Tanzanian tourist obviously in a lot of trouble/distress being repeatedly coaxed to go higher. I expressed concern to our Guide about the ethics of making that guy keep going up, but he did not seem to think there was an issue. We sadly passed the struggling guy by. I do worry about the incentive on guides to push people on and on in order to get bigger tips from getting them to the Summit (or alternatively rescuing them from serious altitude issues). You do have to watch out for yourself and spouse a bit, can't totally trust anyone else.
After hours of this torment we finally, as dawn started to appear, at the end of our strength got to the top of the climb and to Stella Point.
Onto the Summit
At Stella Point (5730 m) we could see the red dawn lighting up the distant Mawenzi Peak as well as the ice cap/glaciers we were now at.
(dawn comes over distant Mawenzi Peak)
I felt a moment of euphoria to see the glaciers. So massive, yet getting smaller every year due to climate change. Africa was far, far below. I was breathing fairly okay and aside from a bit of a headache didn't feel too bad. The wife was exhausted, she did not seem as happy as me to have made the top...hmm. We saw the ridge winding away towards Uhuru Peak and set off on the 30-45 minute trudge past the glaciers to the Summit.
(almost there, wifey)
'For Ar-Pharazon wavered at the end, and almost he turned back. His heart misgave him when he looked upon...Taniquetil shining, whiter than snow,colder than death, silent, immutable, terrible as the shadow of the light of Iluvatar'
The Silmarillion
My euphoria began to be replaced by disquiet and a sense of foreboding. It was so alien up there at the top with the massive, silent glaciers.
This was not a place for people to hang and shoot the breeze. As Legolas says in Fellowship of the Rings 'We cannot linger'. Sorry, all the scale puts this geek in a Tolkien quoting mood. Felt like intruders up there. If something went really wrong up there, you're too high to necessarily escape a bad result. Manfred kept praying and reminding Mungu of his good deeds in the past year. All 2 of them.
My concern about the wife was growing slowly. The guides took her bag off her.I didn't think she had serious altitude sickness, just she was utterly spent. Plus a touch of the altitude that everyone gets up there, being that high. We kept trudging onto the Summit proper. It was taking longer to get there than I liked. I noticed my vision was starting to go a bit weird, the glaciers were looking a bit fuzzy. The wife later told me she had grey spots in her vision too. Hm. I had taken off my gloves to take pictures and they were going numb. Felt light headed.
Finally,we staggered to the sign that marked the Summit. A Petone shirt at the Roof of Africa, 5895 metres high, surely that's a world first? Joyful fellow climbers (some in Santa hats) hugged, took photos and wished each other a Merry Christmas. We took the obligatory Summit photos pretty quick, we didn't want to stay there too long.
(yay!)
The guides then said they were going to assist Franatee down to a safe altitude. I concurred with them. She needed to get down to a safe altitude quick. So two guides grabbed her and soon were dragging her off at lightening speed down to Stella Point and then down the long, slippery way towards Base Camp. Kiboko was left pretty much to make his own way down alone. I was worried for the wife, I did not like seeing her being raced off like a sack of potatoes. I wondered if she felt the same way when she saw me get attacked some months ago.
I reflected on the trudge/fall over/repeat way down the scree zig zag as to the necessity or not of doing this whole enterprise and how I would feel if something serious happened to my mate.
Fortunately, I met up with her an hour or so later at lower altitude and she looked fine. Yay for oxygen. Lots of congratulations from staff and porters for Kiboko. We slowly made our way back to our tent. A bit of a rest and food and then it was off on the long walk down to Millennium Camp (3790 m) for the night. Would be great to be at lower altitude. The walk there took a long time, we were just so tired from the day/night before. Nice to see some green and birds again when we got there. After dinner we pretty much fell into dead sleeps.
The best and worst day ever. We made it up and back safe and well. We faced fears of not being able to get to the top and got to the top. I feel humbled though too. Not super keen to climb Mountains again anytime soon. Nor do anything that could risk me or my wife's life to a great extent.
But boy, those glaciers were purty. Got to see them before they are gone forever...
To Be Concluded
(humans and puppet mascots at Millennium Camp safe and well)
Kili Climb Day 5..off to Base Camp
Day 5 and today we leave Karanga Camp (4035m) and climb 600 metres to Barafu Camp ie Base Camp (4640m, so about as high up as the Lava Tower on Day 3). Once there, we rest for a bit then attack the summit at Midnight on Day 6. So an important day today. As said, didn't sleep too well last night.
After going through the motions of packing up our bags for the umpteenth time and a porridge breakfast we headed out and up over a desolate landscape covered in broken slate rock.
(train of porters winding there way towards Base Camp)
(a lion in the wilderness)
We got into Base Camp and boy, by now my lungs were screaming in protest. The air was so cold and the camp was constantly in cloud, so I was puffing on the inhaler constantly. The lungs were cramping bad and I was spitting up green phlegm. C'mon lungs, just a few days to go...Better asthma than pulmonary oedema I guess. Both the wife and I had blood in our noses from the cold air/altitude.
We could see people coming down the winding road to camp that leads to the Summit...they had gone up midnight the night before. They looked exhausted, shellshocked, bloodshot eyes. We saw some of our chums from the 6 day climb, but yeah...now they have to heard on more walking down to another camp for the night...as an American mate from Colorado drawled to me 'Hope you brought your A-Game for tonight, little buddy'
At lunch it started hailing and snowing with a vengeance. A nice winter wonderland. I guess. Bloody cold though.
(my wife huddles from the cold and snow in a longdrop as I watch chortling from the tent)
(tent after snowfall)
Just as I thought I could relax in my tent, we were asked by our Guide to go on an acclimatisation walk part of the way up the Summit trail. Good to try it out in the day I guess before we would have to tackle it with head lamps in the pitch dark. The wife struggled at first on some of the undulating rock surfaces that marked the start of the climb but she's impressed me with how her confidence had grown, especially after the setbacks of Day 3. I have a tough wife. We walked up to 4900 m then back down again.
Dinner was fairly tense as we looked forward to attacking the Summit at midnight. Our guide was a bit less jovial as he briefed us to follow his instructions exactly and not to stop for rests (pumzika) unless he said so ie to avoid the cold and altitude sapping your will to live. I like rests. Tonight was going to be the most altitude gained in one sitting from Base Camp (4640 m) to Stella Point (5730 m) then Uhuru Peak/Summit (5895m) So a mere total gain of 1250 meteres or so in the space of some hours. Eep.
Hoped it would be a moonlit calm night and not snowing or cloudy for the long 7-8 hour slog up there. Packed all our gear, making sure the camera was triple wrapped in socks for protection from the cold, triple checked head torches, then tried to get a bit of sleep...
(Kili, I'm coming to get YOU!)
To Be Continued
After going through the motions of packing up our bags for the umpteenth time and a porridge breakfast we headed out and up over a desolate landscape covered in broken slate rock.
(train of porters winding there way towards Base Camp)
(a lion in the wilderness)
We got into Base Camp and boy, by now my lungs were screaming in protest. The air was so cold and the camp was constantly in cloud, so I was puffing on the inhaler constantly. The lungs were cramping bad and I was spitting up green phlegm. C'mon lungs, just a few days to go...Better asthma than pulmonary oedema I guess. Both the wife and I had blood in our noses from the cold air/altitude.
We could see people coming down the winding road to camp that leads to the Summit...they had gone up midnight the night before. They looked exhausted, shellshocked, bloodshot eyes. We saw some of our chums from the 6 day climb, but yeah...now they have to heard on more walking down to another camp for the night...as an American mate from Colorado drawled to me 'Hope you brought your A-Game for tonight, little buddy'
At lunch it started hailing and snowing with a vengeance. A nice winter wonderland. I guess. Bloody cold though.
(my wife huddles from the cold and snow in a longdrop as I watch chortling from the tent)
(tent after snowfall)
Just as I thought I could relax in my tent, we were asked by our Guide to go on an acclimatisation walk part of the way up the Summit trail. Good to try it out in the day I guess before we would have to tackle it with head lamps in the pitch dark. The wife struggled at first on some of the undulating rock surfaces that marked the start of the climb but she's impressed me with how her confidence had grown, especially after the setbacks of Day 3. I have a tough wife. We walked up to 4900 m then back down again.
Dinner was fairly tense as we looked forward to attacking the Summit at midnight. Our guide was a bit less jovial as he briefed us to follow his instructions exactly and not to stop for rests (pumzika) unless he said so ie to avoid the cold and altitude sapping your will to live. I like rests. Tonight was going to be the most altitude gained in one sitting from Base Camp (4640 m) to Stella Point (5730 m) then Uhuru Peak/Summit (5895m) So a mere total gain of 1250 meteres or so in the space of some hours. Eep.
Hoped it would be a moonlit calm night and not snowing or cloudy for the long 7-8 hour slog up there. Packed all our gear, making sure the camera was triple wrapped in socks for protection from the cold, triple checked head torches, then tried to get a bit of sleep...
(Kili, I'm coming to get YOU!)
To Be Continued
Kili Climb Day 4-Kiboko Dreams
After the horror of Day 3, we slept well and arose later than those people still doing 6 days. We bid a sad farewell to some of our chums as they took off early for a big day heading to Base Camp before starting to summit at Midnight. Big respect for people who can do this mission in 6 days...
Our day was going to be more leisurely than theirs. After the Barranco Wall, we were going to lunch and stay the night at Karanga camp (4035 metres). A total altitude gain of only a hundred metres or so for the day. The wife was much improved today. After breakfast we took on the Wall. It actually turned out to be quite fun, bit of climbing, bit of jumping up a steep, rocky path up. It was the wife's favourite part of the climb.
Hm, kinda made a rod for my back of sorts. As we were going up the wall, another guide told a woman she climbed like a simba ie lion. I made the mistake of loudly saying I climbed like kiboko (hippo) complete with hippo sound effects. Well, everyone talks to each other and soon I had porters, guides, cooks, everyone saying 'hey kiboko' 'well done kiboko' 'you are strong like kiboko' etc for the remainder of the time of Kili. Maybe, I will get a kiboko tattoo...can't seem to escape a large marine mammal motif..
(us and Guide happy to be at top of wall)
After the Wall, it was a bit of slog up and down through a desolate alpine desert landscape. My face hurt from wind burn. Plus after 4 days my clothes were starting to reek badly. I felt like the right thing to do to add an extra day though. The wife and I still cycled in and out of altitude-induced headaches and feeling like rubbish. Funny sometimes you feel fine going up and then going down it hits you. A delay effect?
After a few hours hiking we saw Karanga Camp through the clouds. As we headed down a big valley to rise back up to the Camp, we heard porters singing in Swahili in the distance welcoming people to camp. The sound was amplified by the valley...beautiful. One of those moments you just had to be there. Digging the energy of the porters and camp workers. How they manage to do their hard work and still smoke, talk and drink into the wee hours at camp, I don't know..Another positive memory was that we had jokingly said to our Guide that it would be great if our cook could make us chipsy mayai (omelet and chips) for our lunch one day. Sure enough when we got into camp, it waited us on our plates! People talk here for sure. Chipsy Mayai at 4000 metres is the best!
I was finding breathing a bit of an effort, it was hard just walking to the long drop and back. So sick of long drops, chlorine tasting purified water, cold nights on thin sleeping mats and hard ground. The wife looked pale, we both had hot faces though. My asthmatic lungs continued to get annoyed at the cloudy air our camp sat in. I just kept puffing away on my inhaler. Didn't sleep very well that night (again), cold and the water I kept drinking to keep headaches at bay meant I had to huff and puff from the tent to the long drop all night. Heard a guy coughing badly all night in a nearby tent...not a good sign at this height. Turned out he was a porter who was later told to head down.
Still it was a beautiful night. Stars and the summit overhead. Way down below we could see the lights of Moshi and Arusha. Funny to see the Searchlights from the Club La Liga Moshi Nightclub so far below. Orange flashes of lightening in a far off thunderstorm. Mount Meru peeking above cloud cover nearby. It was pretty magical. But yeah longdrops SUCK. Especially when you almost drop a glove in, eek.
(View from Karanga Camp, Dawn on Day 5. That's Mount Meru off to the right)
(Nice view of the Summit from the Camp, Dawn on Day 5)
To Be Continued
Our day was going to be more leisurely than theirs. After the Barranco Wall, we were going to lunch and stay the night at Karanga camp (4035 metres). A total altitude gain of only a hundred metres or so for the day. The wife was much improved today. After breakfast we took on the Wall. It actually turned out to be quite fun, bit of climbing, bit of jumping up a steep, rocky path up. It was the wife's favourite part of the climb.
Hm, kinda made a rod for my back of sorts. As we were going up the wall, another guide told a woman she climbed like a simba ie lion. I made the mistake of loudly saying I climbed like kiboko (hippo) complete with hippo sound effects. Well, everyone talks to each other and soon I had porters, guides, cooks, everyone saying 'hey kiboko' 'well done kiboko' 'you are strong like kiboko' etc for the remainder of the time of Kili. Maybe, I will get a kiboko tattoo...can't seem to escape a large marine mammal motif..
(us and Guide happy to be at top of wall)
After the Wall, it was a bit of slog up and down through a desolate alpine desert landscape. My face hurt from wind burn. Plus after 4 days my clothes were starting to reek badly. I felt like the right thing to do to add an extra day though. The wife and I still cycled in and out of altitude-induced headaches and feeling like rubbish. Funny sometimes you feel fine going up and then going down it hits you. A delay effect?
After a few hours hiking we saw Karanga Camp through the clouds. As we headed down a big valley to rise back up to the Camp, we heard porters singing in Swahili in the distance welcoming people to camp. The sound was amplified by the valley...beautiful. One of those moments you just had to be there. Digging the energy of the porters and camp workers. How they manage to do their hard work and still smoke, talk and drink into the wee hours at camp, I don't know..Another positive memory was that we had jokingly said to our Guide that it would be great if our cook could make us chipsy mayai (omelet and chips) for our lunch one day. Sure enough when we got into camp, it waited us on our plates! People talk here for sure. Chipsy Mayai at 4000 metres is the best!
I was finding breathing a bit of an effort, it was hard just walking to the long drop and back. So sick of long drops, chlorine tasting purified water, cold nights on thin sleeping mats and hard ground. The wife looked pale, we both had hot faces though. My asthmatic lungs continued to get annoyed at the cloudy air our camp sat in. I just kept puffing away on my inhaler. Didn't sleep very well that night (again), cold and the water I kept drinking to keep headaches at bay meant I had to huff and puff from the tent to the long drop all night. Heard a guy coughing badly all night in a nearby tent...not a good sign at this height. Turned out he was a porter who was later told to head down.
Still it was a beautiful night. Stars and the summit overhead. Way down below we could see the lights of Moshi and Arusha. Funny to see the Searchlights from the Club La Liga Moshi Nightclub so far below. Orange flashes of lightening in a far off thunderstorm. Mount Meru peeking above cloud cover nearby. It was pretty magical. But yeah longdrops SUCK. Especially when you almost drop a glove in, eek.
(View from Karanga Camp, Dawn on Day 5. That's Mount Meru off to the right)
(Nice view of the Summit from the Camp, Dawn on Day 5)
To Be Continued
Kili Climb Day Three AKA Day of Horror
(a bit of frost in the morning of Day 3, Shira Camp 2)
So today we were going high. We were going to walk 12.5 kilometres and climb from our camp (3820 m) up to a rock formation called 'Lava Tower' (4640 m!) before descending to camp at Barranco Camp at 3972 metres. So up another 800 metres or so. We would head to our camp skirting around the base of the Peak, which should have some good views. So up we went, past the odd solitary fat bird, in sunshine. At least it was sunny for a bit then rain and fog as we moved through increasingly desolate and volcanic rock littered emptiness.
We kept stopping for water and toilet breaks...we were the slowest pair ever. It was dragging...praying a rosary in my head made the time pass for this Catholic boy somewhat.
We crawled into the lunch camp, an hour or so after everyone else. It was raining and cold as we ate our vegetable stew. We heard a jaunty Spaniard we had met was feeling really ill and heading to a lower down camp to rest. After lunch, the rest of us trudged towards a cloud and rain covered Peak and the distant rock formation of 'Lava Tower'.
(wife meet Lava Tower)
I found it increasingly hard to pull in air at 4640 metres. My lungs were cramping like anything. I'd had no asthma or lung problems at all in Africa for 10 months until I got into the low pressure, cold, water heavy air on Kili, gargh! We headed down from the tower and on the long, cold trudge to the camp site for the night.
Only... Franatee getting increasingly out of it. As we clambered down a frozen stream bed, over ice and rocks and as the snow started to fall in earnest...I noticed with increasing concern how unresponsive my wife was becoming. Normally she loves my incessant banter and witty observations...now there was nothing. And she was getting slower. We slowly trudged round past the peak, getting slower and slower. A lot of snow was falling now. My headache was splitting.
(we are both not feeling that well at the moment)
I was starting to hate it all I must say. Finally, as Franatee dragged more and more back, I barked at our guide 'my wife is not well!' Our Guide and another porter (drafted in as assistant guide for work experience) relieved Franatee of her backpack. Still we trudged slowly. We headed down out of the snow and ice and more into a valley of weird alien looking trees, rivers and rocks.
I began to think it was all over, to be honest. We felt worse going down than going up! I felt horrible, my head was in agony and the wife, well she looked done. Another wife would be hard to find, can't afford to lose this one. I'd heard that the 4th day is supposed to bigger than this day ie you heard to Base Camp and then the midnight of the 5th day you attack the summit...I just thought, there's no way. No way.
As we got into Barranco Camp hours after everyone else, I asked the Guide if he thought it was all over...he thought a moment and recommended we added an extra day. 6 days is the minimum you need to climb the Machame Route, but 7 he said was better for people struggling to acclimate. Husband and wife conferred with due regards to safety and we agreed to keep going and add an extra (pricey) day. Thus cutting the
4th day into two and summiting on the 6th day.
It was nice, now that the day's walking was done- as the Camp was lower than how high we went today-being able to breathe a bit better. Then we saw the Wall. Urk.
(Camp and Wall)
Behind the Camp, the monstrous height of the Barranco Wall loomed. It looked impassable...We would have to tackle that sheer climb tomorrow morning. I hoped I could find a Gollum to help lead two Hobbits up a secret, winding way...
('We're coming for ya, wall!!')
To Be Continued
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