Hujambo!

In five weeks and one day, I leave for Tanzania. The closer I get to July 25, the more nervous and excited I become. Nervous because there are so many challenges in Tanzania, culturally and physically, and excited because I’m only going to climb Kilimanjaro once, so here’s my chance. (Actually, that last thought makes me nervous too. Egads!)

With the exception of a few articles here and there, I’ve got all my equipment. But I’m baffled as to how I will cram everything into two suitcases and one backpack. If I over-cram, I pay a hefty $150 fee per over-crammed bag. Now, I know what you’re thinking: Don’t take so much. An ingenious thought on its own, but in reality it’s a recipe for disaster. You see, I’m not just climbing a mountain; I’ll also be living in the toolies for several weeks, with no clean water, no electricity, inadequate medical facilities if any, no linens, no internet, no communications, etc. I’ve simply got to be prepared for life in a vacuum — a disease-ridden, poverty-stricken vacuum. Of course I plan to do my laundry frequently (in a bucket), and I bring only a little travel towel, and teeny-tiny travel washcloths no bigger than tissues, but still, there’s my sleeping bag, my down parka, my insulated self-inflating pad, a second insulating pad (required), my hurkin’ kick-butt boots, two sets of long undies, three pairs of pants, six shirts (cool and warm), a light jacket, a sweater, six pairs of socks (3 thin/3 thick), thick gloves, headlamp, wool hat, baseball cap, sandals, tennies, my travel guide(s), water bottles, medicines up the ying-yang, etc., etc. (This is in addition to the volumes of books that I’ll be leaving behind in Tanzania, along with the bottles of Advil, bandages, extra clothing, laptop computer, pencils, . . . more on the whys and wherefores in another post.) Believe me, the packing is daunting. I’m not complaining, mind you, I’m just baffled by the logistics of it all.

On the physical front, I’m equally stymied. Last month in an effort to motivate myself and in a delusional belief that it wouldn’t take me long to bounce back from pneumonia, I signed up for a half-marathon on July 4 at Sauvie Island, Oregon. No problemo, I thought. Plenty of time. Well, that was before I realized just how far thirteen miles really is. (Why didn’t anyone tell me?!?) I’m now up to 8.25 miles running. (FYI, “running” is a relative term. It has nothing to do with speed, really. It’s merely a linear progression from Point A to Point B using feet and legs while huffing and puffing.) Eight miles is considerably shy of thirteen miles, and time is ticking. But it will be what it will be, and my health takes priority. I must not get injured. I’ll let you know how I do on the half-marathon.

I wish I could blog whilst (don’t you love that word?) in Tanzania. Alas, it’s Tanzania. The likelihood of my blogs getting posted are about as good as me running thirteen miles without stopping, walking, or collapsing altogether. But I promise to keep a journal, hopefully daily, and will blog my journal when I return. Meanwhile, I hope you will all keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I continue to prepare.

Tuko pumoja! (“We are together!” in Swahili.)

Michele