Between Heaven and Earth (12 page)

“Any luck communicating with your family?” she asked.

I pulled out my phone. “Still no signal. I thought once we left the forest we might get something, but nothing.”

“Maybe as we climb higher you'll have better luck. We'll certainly be closer to the satellites. That's another reason we should get started. I think we better get ready to leave,” Doris suggested.

“Probably not wise to keep Mr. Odogo waiting.”

We stepped out to find the porters buzzing around, breaking down the camp. Mr. Odogo was yelling out orders. He didn't seem to need to say the same thing twice. It appeared that I wasn't the only one who was afraid of him. I could have asked one of the porters what he was saying, but there was no way I would have gotten an answer. They were still treating me as if I were invisible. They weren't unfriendly or disrespectful. They just looked right through me. The first of them, loaded down with gear, started up the trail. Right behind him went the three Finns. I guess I wasn't going to be with them on day two either. Actually, Doris was good company. At least she spoke English. I just wished she walked a little faster.

My tent was already packed up. My backpack was sitting where the tent used to be. I slipped it on and had the strangest thought: if I left right now and moved quickly, I could catch the Finns and—

“Do you know what today's journey will be like?” Doris was beside me, her pack on her back, walking sticks in hand.

“From what I read in the guidebook, I think we leave the forest behind completely and spend most of the day walking through heather.”

“Wonderful. Our second climatic zone. I'm sure there will still be some flowers.”

“We're only walking five or six kilometers, but we gain over eight hundred meters, so it's got to be pretty steep.”

“Oh, dear, I hope not too steep.”

Mr. Odogo walked over. “We will soon start. This section is very challenging.”

“DJ was just explaining that it's quite steep,” Doris said.

He looked at me questioningly.

“It's in the guidebook,” I explained.

“Perhaps you think because you have a guide
book
that you do not need a guide.”

“No, sir. I just like to know what's coming.”

“What is coming is that we need to move
polepole
, and all stay together,” he said.

“I don't think that's going to happen.”

“What?” he demanded.

“I don't think we're all going to be staying together.” I pointed up the slope at the Finns.

He saw them just before they disappeared over a rise. He turned back toward us. He didn't look happy.

“
Mambiri
!” he yelled out, and Sarah came running over. He spoke to her and she nodded repeatedly.

He turned back toward us. “My daughter will guide you. I must go.” He rushed after them, moving even faster than the Finns appeared to be moving. I would have loved to move fast. Instead it was going to be another day of
polepole
with Doris as my companion and Sarah as my guide.

The whole world around us changed as we walked. The last vestiges of the cloud forest had completely disappeared and the heath had taken over. Strangely shaped plants, some tall and distorted, others just bushes and brush, dotted the landscape. I couldn't help but think that if Dr. Seuss designed plants, this is what he'd create. Among the plants were rocks carved by wind and rain and time. They were as bizarrely shaped as the plants. More Dr. Seuss.

As well, without trees to block the view, the mountain was a constant presence, looming in front of us. Below, when I was blocked by foliage, I couldn't look far ahead. Here it was impossible to not let my eyes drift forward. The slope we were on was steep but steady. It went on and on until somewhere on the horizon it met the rising grade of the mountain where the white fingers of the glaciers extended down from the top.

I'd read that the first European explorers didn't believe that Kilimanjaro existed because they couldn't possibly imagine snow at the equator. But there it was, so high that at the top it looked and felt polar, even though it was on the equator. I wondered just how cold it was going to be up there. Down here, even two days into the trip I was still wearing a T-shirt and sweating up a storm. The snow didn't seem that real, even though I could see it.

“It is time for a rest,” Sarah said.

I was tired but reluctant to stop. I'd been catching glimpses of other climbers up ahead as they appeared and disappeared around rises in the trail. It was another party, and I was positive we were gaining on them.

“Couldn't we go a little bit longer?” I asked.

“I'm okay to continue a little bit longer,” Doris said.

“So we can stop in—”

“We stop now,” Sarah said, and she halted in her tracks. She turned to face me. “I am the guide.”

“I thought you were the porter.”

She shook her head. “No wonder my father is annoyed by you.”

She unburdened herself of her load. Her two bags were both bigger and bulkier than the little I was carrying on my back. I didn't know how much weight she was carrying, but it was clearly more than I was. She hadn't been complaining, but from the few missteps and stumbles I'd seen, it had to be heavy.

We all pulled out our water bottles and drank. It felt so good. My body was craving the water despite the fact that I'd already guzzled more than a liter. The water didn't just quench my thirst, it also seemed to settle my stomach, which had been grumbling and gurgling all morning. That breakfast just hadn't been enough. If they served that same porridge tomorrow, I'd have to follow Doris's lead and spoon on enough sugar to make it edible. Maybe the secret would be to close my eyes while I ate.

“Sarah,” Doris said, “I notice that your father doesn't usually call you Sarah…he calls you Mambi… Mambir…”

“Mambiri,” she said. “It is my Chagga name.”

“I know that Chagga names most often have meaning. Does your name have a special meaning?” Doris asked.

“It means ripe melon.”

“You're a ripe melon?” I chuckled.

“At least I have a name!” she snapped. “Not like you, who only has initials!”

“Initials stand for names. My name is David.”

“That is the D, but what is the J?”

“It's Junior. I'm named after my grandfather and I got called David Junior and then it was shortened to DJ.”

She shrugged. “At least that makes sense. It is good to be named after your ancestors. My name is that of my mother and grandmother. We Chagga believe that we were created in a melon patch, so many of us are named because of that. Of course it is just a story. We here in Tanzania know the difference between males and females and where babies come from.” She gave me a sly little smile.

“Whatever you say, my little ripe Mambiri,” I joked.

“It is a very pretty name,” Doris said. “Would you mind if I called you Mambiri instead of Sarah?”

“They are both my names. I know it pleases my father when I am called by my Chagga name.” She turned to me. “Perhaps you should call me that too… unless he thinks you are being forward because you have designs on me.”

“Great, just what I need.”

“I just think it's so unfair that DJ is being treated so badly,” Doris said. “I think it's actually gallant for him to do as he did.”

“Gallant? I do not know that word.”

“It means brave, gentlemanly, treating a young woman with respect. He was gallant to invite you along,” she explained.

I was none of the above—at least not right now. It hadn't been bravery but stupidity and a total lack of understanding. If I'd known all the trouble it was going to cause, I would have insisted on her
not
coming along. Doris didn't know about Sarah basically blackmailing me and keeping me in the dark, but Sarah certainly did.

I turned at the sound of somebody coming up the trail behind us. It was five climbers, bookended by two guides. Three of the climbers appeared to be in their twenties or early thirties. The other two were a couple in their fifties. Old, but not as old as Doris. I hated the idea of being passed, but at least they could see that Doris was with us—a built-in excuse for stopping that didn't involve me.

The guide called out a big
Jambo
and offered a smile. Then he saw Sarah and the smile faded. He said something to her in Chachagga and they had a rapid-fire exchange. The guide at the back didn't say anything but looked equally annoyed.

“I didn't understand the guide,” Doris said, when the other group had moved on, “but he didn't seem particularly friendly.”

“What did he say?” I asked Sarah.

“He had heard that there was a female porter on the mountain but he did not believe it until he saw me. He said he wasn't surprised to see me sitting because women sit so much when they wash clothes and cook. He told me it was not too late to go home.”

“What a jerk,” I said.

“And what did you say to him?” Doris asked.

“I told him he probably wasn't smart enough to do either of those things himself, or handsome enough to attract a woman who would do them for him.”

“That must have been when he stopped smiling,” I said.

“He then told me I should respect my elders. I told him that respect is earned and not given because of numbers on a calendar.”

“You really have a way of making friends,” I said.

“Who would want to be friends with such a man?” she said.

“Do you know what would be even better?” I said. “Let's catch up and pass them.”

Sarah smiled. Doris got to her feet and said, “I think that would be simply brilliant!”

Time and distance blurred together. Yesterday's hike was a walk in the park compared to today's march. What made it even worse was that over an hour and a half ago the end had been in sight. We had seen our camp up on a plateau. But what we didn't know—what even Sarah didn't know—was that we had to descend over
300
meters down a gorge and then climb back up to the plateau. Going down wasn't easy, and it was made worse knowing that each step downward would translate into a step up on the other side. I
hated
that.

The last part before we hit the bottom was the hardest. Our path was a small stream running down from one of the glaciers, so cold that there were little patches of ice. What a combination to have underfoot: water, ice and slippery wet mud. A few times I'd come close to slip-sliding down onto my butt.

The thing that kept us all moving was wanting to keep in front of that rude guide and his party. I wish I could have taken a picture of his face as we passed them while they sat having lunch. We stopped just after that for a few minutes to get our own lunches out, but we kept moving,
polepole
, and ate as we walked. That suited me, and, really, it wasn't like I had much of an appetite.

We finally reached the bottom of the gorge, which wasn't at all flat, and Sarah didn't hesitate. She just started up the other side.

I turned to Doris. “Are you all right to climb or do you need a little break?”

“Up might feel good,” she said. “At least for a little while.”

I was happy to keep moving, but I might have been even happier to rest. I was starting to realize that, more and more often, Doris was asking to stop just before I would have asked. I was feeling tired, my legs heavy, and my whole digestive system was keeping up a steady symphony of sounds.

Suddenly Sarah stumbled, toppled forward and fell down! I rushed forward as she struggled to regain her footing. She got to her knees before I could reach her.

“Are you okay?”

“Sorry, sorry,” she said. She looked embarrassed.

“Here,” I said, offering her a hand. I was surprised when she didn't brush it away. I pulled her to her feet.

“I am fine,” Sarah said. “We need to go.”