I’m Sitting on Top of Kilimanjaro

The intro: “I’m Sitting on Top of Kilimanjaro” is a Johnny Clegg’s song. It shows how important the Kilimanjaro is. Tanzania, between DR Congo, Kenya and the Indian Ocean, is the land of the Serengeti, Zanzibar and Mount Kilimanjaro.

The Setup: When I was in Durban, I was trying to tick off one of the long lasting items of my to-do list: “Find a meaning to life”.
I saw an old man sitting in the sand and staring at the sun. Thick blond hair, tanned skin, he seemed mature enough. I asked him if he knew what the meaning of life was while looking at him dead in his bloodshot eyes. Get high, he said. Get high.

How high?

The hook: In the car, on the way back I flick through my lonely planet. Mount Kilimanjaro, 5895m, the top of Africa. Well that’s high. That’s well high.

What do you need?

The Plan: Plain tickets. Sleeping bag, gloves, high altitude sunglasses, hiking shoes. A backpack, a camel back, sticks, under gloves, thermal underwear for the legs, thermal underwear for the chest, polar pants, polar shirt, polar sweater, hiking pants, waterproof pants, a waterproof thermal jacket, a frontal lamp, a scarf, lip stick, a pocket towel, medicine, vaccines, a guide, a guide assistant, a dozen porters, a cook and training.
Ouh! That’s a lot of boys.

We – us three getting high – have decided to go through the Machame route and reach the peak of the paramount piece of land during a seven days walk. No refuges, only tents, and the cold wind.

October 15th, that’s the start date, and hopefully by the 27th I’ll have crossed out that annoying to-do item.

The beginning.

It Looks Like I’m Firing You

There is some sort of pressure, when you arrive in Johannesburg, to hire a maid to clean the big house you and your roommate live in. Ok, so be it. The real reason behind this trend is as we spend a lot of time at work (or travelling), we might as well enjoy as much as possible our free time, so if we can get rid if dish washing on Sunday mornings we try to – yes we have a two story house with too many rooms but we have no dishwasher.

So we hire Maria, on advice of the owner, Hi Maria how are you. Good, good. Half a year later we figure out she is only cleaning the sheets, and washing a few plates every week. So we decide to “put an end to her contract”. Fish says, Damien can you please fire the maid. Ok, I’ll put it on my to-do list: between organise my exhibition – www.dejavu-production.com buy my art, many thanks – and find a meaning to life.

(over the phone)

- Hi Maria, how are you?
- Good and you.
- I’m fine. Hm, Maria, I have a sort of bad news. You’ve been very helpful these past months but Fish and I are not going to need your services anymore. It’s complicated… you know… But don’t we’ll pay your next month…
- Ok…
- We’ll need to get the keys back too. I think the easiest for you would be to come by some day, you could give us the keys and we would give you the money we owe you.
- Yes, ok.
- Good, so you don’t have to come tomorrow at the house as we haven’t been there this week. When would be a convenient day for you to meet?
- Tomorrow.
- Ah, yes… ok… as you wish… But you don’t have to come just for that. May be you can come another day, when you are around for some other matter, and we can do the exchange then.
- Yes, ok.
- So when would be a good day?
- Yes, ok. Good day.
- Hm… You know what Maria, may be I’ll send you a text message, you read it and then I call you back so that you tell me what’s best for you.
- Yes, ok.

Sure…

The following week, we put a note on the door of the house asking her to leave the keys and take the money in the envelope. When we arrive back at the house: the note is gone, the money is still there and the keys are missing.

Sophisticated Fun

Raffle, raffle. Ladies and gentlemen choose your fun !

- So what do you want to do this weekend?
- Ski.
- I bet you do, fool!

Africa, a land full of surprises. Friday night, leave Johannesburg towards the sunny south; go through Frankfurt and Bethlehem, cross the border to Lesotho, make your tires squeak in tight curves of the mountains for a while and there you are: a ski resort. Ta-da!

Ski in Lesotho with Anne-Elodie

Wonder. You might. It’s not a ski resort per say. It’s a large band of snow with everything you would find in any other ski resort, but in minute quantities.

Top notch boards and a ski tow. Chalets and warm wine. Snow, sun and twisted ankles. Everything, I told you.

The next day we go for a walk. Meet Oscar, the crazy drunk running the lodge – the previous night, he spent half an hour talking to a 2 year old girl like Papa Shultz – so, he tells me, you climb up the water fall, then you reach the top of this mountain, and then you follow the ridge until you are tired. Then you turn and walk back. Capito?

Wam bam. Three hours of hiking, a chocolate bar, two litters of water, two border posts and 4 hours drive later, here we are back home. Johannesburg.

Ski in Africa on August the 2nd, it was not on my to-do list but I’ll add it and tick it off. Done.

What next? Kilimanjaro or Scuba diving. Why not both?