Swahili

An uncomfortable arrival

An uncomfortable arrival

I hoped it was Arusha when we slipped in. It was hard to know in the dark. The tinting film stuck to the “taxi” windows, bubbled and peeling, made it even more disorienting. There were few working streetlights; those that did work revealed a shantytown in eerie hue. The driver, grimfaced under a stocking cap, looked straight ahead and never spoke a word. Vicki was unnerved.

The CIA

The CIA

Paul was stocky fellow, the veteran of many climb seasons. His feet were glued to a muddy floor. I knew immediately that I needed to befriend this man. 

PaperGate

PaperGate

I dangled out the bus window and sniffed the air. It was damp, earthy, and green. Inside the bus were nine other Kilimanjaro trekkers (also somewhat damp, earthy, and green!), four guides, a handful of porters, and many rucksacks.