Arusha, Old friends, and Expats

I spent a lot of my time in Arusha staying at the house of a dear friend of mine from college, Eli. He is one of those third-culture kids, parents from different places and raised in a third. They are always interesting ones, having had somewhat unusual life experiences, and having been born to wider worldview than the most of us ever achieve.

One never really gets to know someone without stepping onto their home turf. I gained a much greater understanding of two other college friends by traveling to North Dakota and Kansas City. And one friend once remarked that "meeting your parents, Jeannie, well, it explains a lot about you." In this case, it was amusing, sometimes hilarious to watch four quiet, reserved men living together. They care deeply for each other. Anyway, I really enjoyed my time relaxing at Eli's house, even though the majority of the time he wasn't even there--he has always had a powerful work ethic, and was working. What time we did get to spend together was very nice, just catching up.

Just as interesting in a totally different way, was seeing the firmly entrenched expat culture of Northern Tanzania. For many, many years now (probably approaching 50 years) the world's NGOs have descended up on Tanzania. Poor, destitute Tanzania with it's amazing natural beauty and animal life is a charismatic place. You can't hardly go there and not feel the tug of the land, and the people. They are a very hospitable, kind people generally, and those that are more pushy, the Maasai, are flat out fascinating to most travelers. These NGO workers stayed, befriended and married the ex-Europeans who owned coffee and tea plantations, and made their home there. And what a home! Often leaning towards the luxurious, with domestic workers, gardeners, tenants... and beautiful, always beautiful.

Now, the younger generations move to the cities, renting apartments and frequenting the bars and night clubs. And also, often doing brilliant work with the NGOs they work for. More young, motivated, smart, resourceful people get pulled into the web of the expat community all the time. Oddly, or perhaps not so odd, is that very few of the "native" Tanzanians (how to say... ethnically African Tanzanians might be the most P.C.) have joined into this culture-within-a-culture. The expat community in Morocco tends to be more of a mix, but then it's also been there for a lot longer, and in a different way. The French started out completely insulated, but over time there has been enough inter-marriage, and migration back and forth between Morocco and France that bunches of half-and-half children have sprung up. I wish there were more of a mix between Tanzanians and the expats who are there to serve them, and usually end up being served by them. I think it would be much healthier, and help the cultures to understand each other in a more nuanced way.

Altitude

The air is thin up there. I have always loved the taste and feel of mountain air in my mouth and lungs. When I was a child I used to look forward to visiting the "Denver cousins" with great anticipation. I remember jumping out of a car on the heights of the rockies and bounding about like a young horse; like a distracted puppy.

My first time up high was Pike's Peak. I don't remember it much, but I've seen pictures of me in a borrowed sweatshirt that went down past my knees. My second was a little known fourteener in southern Colorado called Mt. San Luis. It was also my first encounter with and altitude headache.

The past three weeks have seen me on two volcanoes, high in a mountain range, and well over 18,000 amsl. I didn't ever think I would ever go that high into the atmosphere. Actually, it was really easy, right up until it was really hard.

We had been at sea level for two weeks, the four of us (Ants, LTool, Al, and I). And below sea level, actually, scuba diving. So, in the run up to Kili, we planned to increase elevation gradually. Actually, I just wanted to go the Usambara Mountains to see the butterflies and the rainforests, and to climb Mount Meru because it is a lovely and beguiling mountain. It so happened that if we did those in that order before Kili, we would give ourselves plenty of time to adjust to the height needed.

Most people climb Kili, and maybe see Mt. Meru as a largish peak poking out above the cloud layer, keeping the peaks of the "big one" company. They are missing out. Meru is gorgeous! A half-destroyed rim of a steep and high volcano, it rises gently at first on one side, then steeply to where the ash cone declares the volcanic life below, then by enormous sheer cliffs to the summit high above. The other side drops steeply down, down, down, down all the way back to those gentle, forested slopes surrounding the base. When I first saw Meru peek demurely out from the mists and clouds, I was struck by the jagged rock and precipice of the peak, and it's contrast with the green forest below. It called my name, and 4 years later I was excited to answer!

The rest of my group was willing to trek along with me, but Ants and Al were both itching to get on top of Kili. Just to do it, but also, I think, to test themselves against the altitude. Before you do it, there is no real way to know how your body will react. Some people feel barely a headache, some cannot pass 5000 m without life-threatening consequences. Cerebral and pulmonary altitude sickness take lives around the world every year. So, we prepared as best we could.

Meru was fantastic. The views, amazing. The mountain full of character, the forests full of life, the weather, perfect. It wasn't easy, but it was quick, and the altitude gave me nary a problem. I loved it.

Kili was a challenge. A 4-day trek to summit base camp up and down and up and down at necessarily slow paces. Much less scenery to exalt, but when the peak did show itself, it humbled me to think I might stand atop it. Barranco Wall and the cliffs atop it to the glaciers melting down in gigantic icicles stopped me in my tracks. The final bid for the summit wasn't so steep, or rocky, or anything, but it took us up and up and up... Al was the first to feel the altitude. It slowed him down. Waaaaaayyyy down. If he weren't a person of great mental strength he wouldn't have made it. Once I got to the top, I hurt. Headache, nausea, fatigue were all present. But we made it. Which was satisfying, except for the overwhelming desire to descend. And DOWN I went, as quickly as I could. Past the beautiful view of Mawenzi Peak, past the glaciers I came to see, past the spot Al almost gave up, down down down. And all was well.

I still love mountain air. But it's hard to breathe enough of it.

big mountains...

Mount Meru is still the most beautiful single mountain I have ever climbed or hiked on.

Kilimajaro is awesome in it's size and massive-ness.

Mount Mulanje is special in it's self-contained wilderness and beauty.

Oldoinyo Lengai is completely otherworldly, full of dust, ash, sulphur and lava flows.

I wasn't planning on making this mountain climbing thing a habit, but it seems to be becoming one. Ah well!
:)