Day 10 : Market and Farewell Dinner

Some reflections on our Kilimanjaro Climb…

My husband wants to throw me a “victory party” for reaching the summit of Kilimanjaro. Of course I am touched by this, but I am clear that this was not my victory.

Never in my life have I felt the need to rely so heavily on Jesus. The strain we put on our bodies was more than anything I have ever demanded of it. We were not made to breathe and function in the rarefied air of 19,341 feet or 18,000 or even 16,000 feet. So why, you may ask, would we do it? For me it was a dream 60 years in the making. When I was five or six years old my maternal grandfather stopped in Tanzania to climb in Kilimanjaro on his way to see us in then Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe, where I grew up. I was so struck by this accomplishment in his 60s that the desire to do the same was born. When my 60s arrived I realized time was short and I needed to make plans!

I did not know what I was getting into! I did not know just how hard this would be. And better that I didn’t know because I probably would’ve changed my mind.

I can’t imagine doing this with any group that wasn’t Christian for this was a spiritual journey. It was a journey that has changed me and taught me a great deal. 

We were advised the night before we left by a wise elder (Papa Deo) that God would “crush” us. Now I understand what he meant. When you think you can go no further, that just putting one foot in front of the other is a herculean task, you rely on Jesus! In my life, my competence, gifting and experience has meant that I have not had to rely on him as much. I have been protected and well provided for most of my life. Apart from leaning on him through the  most challenging times of marriage, dependence on Christ has been more theoretical them practical.

And yes, I trained! My muscles and joints were in better shape than in all my life but you cannot train for extreme altitude. Low blood oxygen results in headache, nausea, G.I. upset and profound breathlessness for even the lightest task like turning over in your sleeping bag! So, when you are on the mountain, ascending a ridiculously steep, rocky path, in below freezing, gale-like conditions, asking your foot and leg to take one more step, you know it is super human strength that  you need. 

Some of our team used the phrase “thank you Jesus” and “praise you Jesus” for each alternate step. My cry was more like “help me Jesus to do this”.  

Our phenomenal guides knew what we were going through. We didn’t even have the energy to zip or unzip our jackets, or to reach for our chapstick or water bottle when the Camelback tube had frozen solid. They took our day packs, adjusted our poles, told us to keep “Pole, pole” and affirmed that we could do it. Even childbirth has not stretch my body this far.

As I now reflect and pray in this beautiful game lodge overlooking Lake Manyara with zebra and wildebeest grazing in front of me, I feel closer to God than for a long time. I am confident of his love and protection as my body slowly heals from the trauma. My lips are chapped and at times bleeding, my first blister arising the last day is appreciating the Compeed dressing. My muscles and joints are at last allowed to protest a bit and my G.I. tract is settling.

I won’t be climbing Kilimanjaro again, of that I am sure. But I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. My eyes are filled with tears of deep gratitude as I know God‘s love and presence in a new and profound way.

Thank you for reading.

Journal Entry by Christine Taylor