My Big Fat African Wedding!

HEEEEEEE!

By now everyone knows that I have met the man I was destined to spend my life with, traveling and exploring this planet and it's people together, until the end of time. ;) And I had to go to Africa to meet my match in an American, something I never thought would happen. But like all great love stories... it happened. 

Steve started his service in Zambia as a Rural Education Development volunteer 6 months before my Health group went to Zambia. I met him at my second site visit during my second month of service, and we immediately connected and our personalities meshed. However, we were both dating other people, and had absolutely no interest in each other. I ended up being placed in the same District that Steve lived, Lundazi, and all of the volunteers were really close. There were about 24 of us in Lundazi, and we were pretty far away from our office at the time- there was no road so it took about 6 hours to get to our capital where the Peace Corps house was. Due to this, we all pitched in and rented out a house in Lundazi town, where we could all store our things (packages, bikes, extra supplies) when we were traveling, and we used it as a crash pad when we got into town too late to make it back to our rural sites. Having this house brought us all together as a family, and we would often bike in on the weekends or holidays and have feasts and celebrations together. 

I think the best relationships start off as platonic friendships. I was able to get to know Steve for who he really was, without him trying to impress me. I knew that he was a nice guy and a wonderful person- I saw how he treated his girlfriend, his friends, Zambians, and strangers he met. I knew that he was trustworthy, and that I could trust him with anything. I knew who he was, because we spent countless hours hitchhiking together, getting lunch, and navigating Zambia together, face-to-face, side-by-side, and never with a computer or phone screen between us portraying something different than who we were. I saw him in stressful situations, in uncomfortable situations, and when he was absolutely plastered. We were immediate friends; our personalities were compatible. Steve became like a brother to me, my confidant, and my best friend there. I saw him as such, and he saw me as just another one of the guys- someone that could hang. Cuz lets face it, I'm pretty cool, and can kick it with the dudes ;) . After both of our relationships ended, I spent months convincing myself and him that I would never date him; that I just wasn't attracted to him in that way, and never would be... and then I eventually grew to be attracted to him.

Steve and I would visit each others villages, about a 4 hour bike ride and many hills away, and stay for extended periods of time in one another's villages to run health and education programs together, meshing our two fields. In the culture of the tribe that we lived it, it is shameful to entertain someone at your house when you are not married. As Peace Corps Volunteers, we would all travel to each others sites and stay with friends in their huts, and we used this as a teaching moment of cultural exchange- that we could stay together without it meaning that we were all sleeping together. For Steve, his village was a bit more open to people coming and staying in his hut, and even if they weren't, his host family were polygamists, and his host father had about 5 different wives, so he was probably high-fiving Steve every time a different girl came to visit. In my village, being a female, this was a whole different story and they probably thought I was entertaining all the men, and that I was a prostitute. No matter how many times I would try to explain otherwise, it was embedded in them because of their cultural beliefs. 

So when Steve's service ended 6 months before I would be done, I made a proposal to my host father, Prince. I wanted to have a village wedding ceremony, in which everyone that I had grown to work with, know, and love over the last 2 years would be invited to witness, so that it would be deemed appropriate for Steve to come and stay in my hut with me while I finished my service (and possibly to help deter from all of the daily marriage proposals.. maybe). I started off by inviting Prince and my Amama into my hut one night, sat them down, and said "Adada, I wanted to tell you that... Steve and I are courting." To which he replied with a big laugh and said everyone already knew :O So I told him that Steve and I would like to have a village wedding ceremony, but I wanted it to be completely traditional: "before the white men brought Jesus to Africa," before their wedding ceremonies became Westernized. I didn't want a Western wedding, I didn't want a church wedding, I didn't want it to be religious. I wanted the traditional African ceremony that their people had practiced for hundreds of years, the raw, original, tribal ritual...

....So Prince hired a Bishop from Living Fountains Ministry. After telling him what I wanted, he did the opposite, because thats what he thought I wanted and what would be appropriate for a "white wedding". Over the next few days, Prince became my frenzied wedding planner. I told him that I would pay for everything, but needed help planning and organizing, because I had no idea what went into a traditional ceremony behind the scenes. I knew a few of the things that would be expected of me, but not who to talk to and how to get the resources. Every evening, Prince would show up at my hut with another list of things to do, what I needed to give money to him for, and who needs to be added to the guest list. Sometimes he would get so outrageous that I would need to put my foot down and tell him, no, we didn't need 10 goats and 500 guests and to rent speakers and a generator and fuel for the generator, but his excitement was inexorable. He was precious. 

One day I biked into town, rented a computer for 30 minutes (about 10 cents), typed up some wedding invitations, and printed out 200 of them (about $5). 

The typical gifts that people would bring to a Zambian wedding are all kitchen supplies: pots, pans, plates, stir sticks, buckets, storage containers, etc. Since we were about to move out of my hut in a month and travel, I asked that people bring a monetary donation instead. I felt that this was wrong to do, since people in the village don't have much money, but I figured they'd be spending money on a gift anyways, so they might as well contribute towards food. Prince told me this was going against the tradition, but I didn't want to end up with a bunch of kitchen supplies and then give them away to other people when we moved out. 5 kwacha is equivalent to a little less than $1, so I was only asking for $1-2, that we put towards food and renting a stereo system and generator.

Steve and I ended up going around to peoples villages and buying chickens to slaughter for the wedding. I had to send Prince to find some goats, because no one wanted to sell me their goats. We slaughtered 10 chickens and 2 goats for the feast, as well as bough 50kg of cabbage, a few baskets of onions, and a few baskets of tomatoes. My host family and my village people donated some of their millie meal (maize powder) to make nsima (the staple food). I also used my 100L bucket and endless supply of Crystal Lights sent from the States to make some flavored sugar water for everyone to drink. In my hut for my guests, I brewed some wine out of local fruits, made some mead, and rum cake.

Leading up to the wedding was stressful. I planned it during my last two months in the village, because Steve was home in the States and would be coming back about a month before the end of my service. During that time, I had visitors, I had projects going and programs to run at my clinic and school, I was raising money and trying to get the Health Office to come and help build our health clinic, I had end of service trainings and medical checks, I was recovering from a chopped off toe, and I was trying to finish up all of my reports and end of service documents, as well as organize to travel around Africa then move back to the States. I was a bit overwhelmed, so it was nice that Prince was working so hard for me.

During my End-of-Service Conference, I got back together with everyone that I had flown into country with 2 years prior. One of my friends brought a bunch of jewelry to our conference, that she had helped her Girls Empowerment Club make. They lived in North Western Province of Zambia, which is near the Copperbelt, where a majority of the copper mines are. The girls made copper jewelry, and then would sell it in order to afford school fees and continue going to school, so as not to fall into the disturbing cultural reality of having sugar daddies, sleeping with their teacher attend school, or getting pregnant and dropping out. So to support them, a lot of us volunteers bought a bunch of jewelry from these girls. As girls empowerment is something that both Steve and I worked really hard to promote while in Zambia, I thought it would be fitting if the rings that we exchanged during the ceremony were reflective upon our time in Zambia. Also fitting is that Zambia's largest/main export is copper.  So, I bought our "his and hers" rings: ($5).

In the days leading up to the ceremony I was running (biking) all over the place. I went to the excitingly brand new baker in town and placed an order for 2 cakes, telling him that my dress colors had reds and blues and purples and gold, and to decorate the cakes accordingly, based on what he had access to. (I wish I had a close up picture of the cakes so you could all see the magnificence that he created, but you'll get a side view further down.) I traveled the 12 hours to the capital to pick up Steve from the airport, but one of the bags didn't make the flight so we stayed in the city an extra day, as we were told that the bag would be there the next day. Which it wasn't. Apparently it forgot to get off the plane in Zambia and was now in Zimbabwe, so they said that we could stay an extra day again, and get it then, but at this point our wedding was in 2 days and we needed to get back to the village and get stuff done! So we hitched back up, got into town, picked up the outfits that I had made for us at a local tailor, checked in on the progress of the cakes, and went to a bottle depot and grabbed 4 crates of soda pops for the "guests of honor" at our wedding. These wouldn't be for the common-folk, but the headmen, chief, and clinic doctors. We got back to my village late, the night before the wedding ceremony.

Because of our delayed arrival to my village, I didn't get to partake in the traditional pre-ceremony rituals that I was supposed to take part in. So I'll tell you a little about what is supposed to happen: I was to go out into the bush with the village women and my elders (acting grandmothers) the night before, and spend hours being taught the "bedroom dances" and being instructed on how to keep my man happy and take care of him. At this time, they would also test my cooking skills, as well as have me shimmy up a tree in the nude (what this proves? I don't know). Then they would return me to the hut, with my head and face covered under a chitenge. They would knock on the door, and when Steve answers, would present me to him and ask him how much he is willing to pay. After negotiating with him for a price, they would lead us both into the bedroom. They would talk to us about 'doing the deed', and how it will be our first night together and I am to preform what I have learned. They would then exit my hut and surround it, all with pots and pans and sticks and drums, and dance and sing through the night, creating a lot of noise so that no noise would be heard from inside of my hut. In the morning, if Steve was... "satisfied".. he was to leave some money between to bedsheets as a payment to my female elders for teaching me well. The women would then strip the bedsheets and do the laundry. The men would sit Steve down, and ask him if I was a "caterpillar or a butterfly", and he would hopefully respond that I had blossomed into a butterfly. Only then, and only if he had been satisfied the night before, could the ceremony continue on and take place. But, alas, none of this was experienced.....

The morning of the ceremony we awoke to loud Zambian music blaring outside of my windows at 6am. I got up to see what was happening, and people were moving all over the village setting things up. They had gotten two large speakers, a radio, a microphone, and a generator and placed them directly in front of my hut. They were building a structure next to my hut out of tree trunks and grass, making a makeshift canopy. Chairs were popping up from nowhere, goats were getting their heads chopped off, women were building massive fires, and children were putting on the nicest, cleanest clothes a village kid has ever seen. It was also quickly heating up. We made some coffee, I took a bucket bath out back and my hair was dry within 2 minutes as the outside temperature in the hot African sun reached 100 degrees. My host mother came over and asked to have a few rolls of toilet paper and I thought, "how wonderful! They've learned so much about health and hygiene from me that they wish to create a toilet for the guests at our wedding!" and happily passed over my sacred pink tissue rolls. A few minutes later I stepped outside and realized that she had, instead, decorated the front of my hut and the canopy with the toilet paper acting as streamers. 

As we began to get dressed into our outfits, Prince came over with a few men dressed in fancy suits and asked us to come out and sit on the floor in my hut to talk with them. It was a bishop that had come in from town with his translator to conduct the ceremony (again, this was my first time hearing about this, because I had told Prince no to every religious group that he tried to hire to sing gospel music at the ceremony, reminding him again and again that I didn't want a religious ceremony). So we sat with the bishop, we told him our names and wrote them on the certificate, told him the story about the rings we wanted to exchange and what they meant to us based on our time here, and why we wanted to proceed with a village wedding ceremony. 

One of our Peace Corps friend, Phillipe showed up then, and began to take some wonderful pictures for us! A few minutes later Steve and I were ushered into my host family's house next door to my hut, while we were still getting ready. I hadn't gotten out my cameras and solidified everything yet when Jonesi came in to tell me that we were expected in my parents house. We went over there and they started arranging us and said the ceremony was about to start and we couldn't leave! We hung out inside the house chatting with the boys and girls and trying to figure out what was going to happen next! 

Some of my village kiddos, with my brother Alfredi in the stripped button-up in the front, and my sister Tiyese in the middle in the back. 

My brothers and sisters were surprised with some new shirts to wear for the event. The kids of my village had a good time dressing up in the nicest clothes they could scrounge up from their dirt huts, and I have no idea where the glitter came from but they decorated their hair and faces in purple and gold glitter. 

The Matron, the male knife-dancer, and the groomsmen dancing Steve out.

Our matron of honor was a lady that I had never met before, or if I had, I had no recollection of meeting her. She lived in my catchment area near my health clinic and was really involved with the school youth and churches. She found some school boys and school girls to be our official dancers, as well as our groomsmen and bridesmaids. I had no say in the selection process, but a few of my students that I had worked with or hung out with around the villages made the cut, so I was happy to see them and share this day with them! The Matron danced out both of our lines. 

Jones took his job as Flower Boy very seriously! 

It was a beautiful, 120 degree summer day out on the day of the ceremony. Sweltering!! One of the cultural practices for weddings across Zambia is that it is a very serious ceremony. The bride and the groom are not supposed to smile at all, and are supposed to look sad the entire time. The bride is instructed to not make eye contact with anyone, always looking at her feet or to the ground, to play into the subversiveness and subservience to her husband that is expected in a misogynistic culture. I definitely did not buy into this part of the traditional practice, because I wanted to see everyone and everything that was happening at my wedding! However, we did try to keep a straight face throughout the ceremony, as seen in some of the pictures, 

Little Jonesi is even adorable from behind! He kept pulling up his pants the whole time. A few days before the ceremony, he came running into my hut and was so excited to tell me all about his new shirt and pants and shoes. I asked if I could see them and he said "no! only for the wedding!" His mom didn't want him to get them dirty before his big day.

The traditional fabric in Zambia (and all of Africa) is chitenge. I found some nice chitenge fabric when I was in the capital of Lusaka, at a market under a bridge by a railroad track. I got two different prints, and one I used to make an outfit for my host father and mother, and the other print I used to make Steve's shirt and my dress. It's typical for the bride and groom to match prints, so I went to a local tailor in our market and sat with them working out a design, then picked it up a few days later! 

Next, my girls line danced me out of the hut. Again, in the front is our Matron, then my female knife dancer in the blue, then my "bridesmaids"/female dancers. I knew a few of them, but the rest were random and I had no say in who was chosen!

She got quite fancy for her part in our wedding! She looked fantastic though, I must say. 

Trying not to smile, surrounded by my village grandmothers, with my little niece, Ruthy, in front of me as my flower girl. 

My village grandmas dancing around me. It's always a good time to dance in Africa! 

They sat poor Steve down in the sun instead of the shade! Again, it was OVER 100 DEGREES! About 115-120 throughout the day!

I got to sit in the shade in the fancy seats.. with some random guy next to me. I'm not sure if it was a symbolic thing that we had to be away from each other and then brought together at the end, or what. But I felt so bad for Steve in the sun!

Our Bishop and his translator. These two were hilarious, it was a comedy show. However, the sermon that they presented was very "fire and brimstone". They explained the unconditional covenant that we were making with each other was reflective of the covenant which Abraham made with God, to sacrifice an animal by cutting it into two halves, in which God would pass through the middle of the two animals as a torch or a smoking furnace, and bind the animal back together through him, as the covenant is completed. I'm not much of a theist- this is how they explained it to us and to our village. They also noted that it was a male animal and a female animal being bound together from their two halves, and said that that's the covenant that Steve and I were making. They assured us that if we were to ever break our covenant or wish to divorce, that God would strike us down and our bodies would split in half, letting us bleed out to our death and condemning us to burn in an eternal hell. He also made it a known point that if we should wish to divorce, the only way to safely do so and break the covenant without God striking us down where we stood, was to preform a divorce ceremony in the same exact location that we were currently at, with the same exact people, at the same exact time. He went into great detail explaining how we would need to have everyone there who was bearing witness on this day, with not a single person missing, and they all must be exactly as they were- not having aged even a minute, or changed into different clothes.. therefore making it impossible for us to ever break the bond that him and God were solidifying on that day..... So yea, totally what I was going for in my non-religious ceremony.  

My host father, Prince, and host mother, Agnes, rocking their matching outfits that I made for them. I thought that if anything, they would have some nice, fancy chitenge outfits to wear in their future should they ever need to dress up for something that they might not typically be able to afford. I made Prince a vest and tie, and Amama got a skirt, dress shirt, and duku (head wrap). They were so thrilled! Even though they didn't necessarily want to wear it for the ceremony (or they just didn't want to match each other?) they were excited to have such a nice gift. 

They finally realized how hot Steve must have been while he was melting in the sun, and got a lady to stand over him for the remainder of the ceremony and hold an umbrella above his head. 

My host father walking me over to hand me off to Steve.

Prince giving a speech to us about how he loves his daughter so much and she has helped him immensely an Astevu is such a great man that has also blessed him and may we have a blessed marriage and life together ;)

Village kids from all over the area showed up and hung out! Dressed to the nines in their best pajamas! 

Most likely laughing about some other ridiculous thing the Bishop was saying... There was a lot. He mentioned something about how some people try to make "covenants/marriage bonds" but they weren't real because they weren't done through God, and that some people might go into the jungle and cut themselves and drink each others blood, or use "ju-ju" (witchcraft) to have a wedding ceremony but these weren't real because science says that those things weren't real and "I'm no scientist, but this is science that things like witchcraft and satanism cannot be real and that's why we must believe and trust in the Lord and know only he can make our marriage real." [I know that was a run-on sentence, but our Bishop was kind of a run-on guy.]

He got some 'hanks' (handkerchiefs) for us. When he began to present them to us, he explained that the saying that is printed on them, "Blessed Partner" is to remind us whenever we pull out our 'hanks', we shall know that we have a blessed partner and stay true to them. His examples were as follows: "When the woman is home and cleaning and cooking in the kitchen and caring for the children, and she feels like she doesn't want to do these things any longer, she shall pull our her 'hank' and know that she has a blessed partner and she must stay true to him and serve him. And when the man is out on the town, doing the business, he should pull out his hank and remember that he has a blessed partner at home." ..This is why I'm not smiling at this moment.

He then had everyone rub their hands together, like so ^, so create a physical energy to ceremoniously complete the process of our covenant together. During this time, I passed my handkerchief to Steve and he passed his into my hands. And thus, we were "village married". 

One of my village grandmothers was so ecstatic that she came up and shook her hips and broke into tribal song in front of us. Like I said, always a good time to dance in Africa.  

Before exchanging our rings, the Bishop went into a long story about how we had gotten some very expensive rings for each other from "Zales, or Tiffany's, or something like that, but they are terribly expensive to show our love!" People wouldn't know what these places were in the village...and I know he thought he was making a funny joke because he had seen the rings before the ceremony and knew that they were cheap and made of copper, so he was sort of making fun of us...but it still irked me a little bit that he decided to make that joke, because I didn't want to give the impression to my village that we could afford expensive rings, (we couldn't/still can't), and I thought the whole reason behind the rings was such a special story and a nice story about helping the female youth of Zambia to succeed, that he should have shared that bit of information instead.  

He then allowed us to hug... No Kissing! 

We then kneeled on the ground while they prayed over us and our marriage...

And my host father, Prince, took Steve us, while his host father, Chaliwa Zimba, took me up from the ground and gave us their blessings and exchange of children.

This is our *ahem* Zambian Marriage Certificate. It can be held up in Zambian court of law, because it was witnessed by the people of my village, and my Group Headman, as well as the surrounding Headmen, who are all a distant part of the Zambian Government, but part of it nonetheless. However, we signed our village surnames on it, because to us, it isn't our 'official wedding certificate'. Legal in Zambia, but not anywhere else. Signed, Stephen Zimba and Caitlin Kamanga. 

No smiling as we pose for pictures with the Bishop and his assistant and our certificate.

We are the champions, my friends! 

 My sweet little brother flower boy Jonesi with his purple glittered face, and my sweet little niece flower girl Ruthie, taking her job so seriously.

 Our dancing line then proceeded to dance out the two wedding cakes. It was all choreographed, of course! Unfortunately our photographer missed the next event, but our knife dancing boy and girl that I mentioned earlier preformed their knife dance after this. They had one of my kitchen knives (which was really sharp so I made them wrap a towel around the blade), and the two of them preformed a dance where the spun the knife all around, passing it between their legs, behind their backs, back and forth to each other, etc... It was really impressive and I wish I had evidence! 

 And then, all three of us cut the cake together ;) They had already cut up the cake into different portions, as you can see on the table, but left a piece for us to cut and share. 

 A little bit of a closer view of one of the cakes. They were one-layer rectangular, plain flavored, but decorated oh-so-beautifully ;) I had told him about the colors of my dress, so he decorated in those colors! lol. This one was blue and pink, and said Caitlin in gold, and the other cake was red and green and said Steve on it. 

 I was surprised, but they actually let us feed the cake to each other! I thought that would be a cultural no-no.

 Whoever the guy next to me is (he was the MC with the mic and music for the rest of the party), was so excited to watch Steve feed me cake. 

 Then, as per tradition, you present a gift to the parents, the people who conduct the ceremony (in our case, the Bishop and his sidekick), and the Headman. We have to kneel on the floor and bow when presenting the cake portions to them, as a sign of respect. The rest of the cakes were cut up into bite-sized pieces and passed around to everyone in attendance. 

 While people split off to get their food, Steve and I became a backdrop for everyones photographs. People had come from all over, as was expected, to see the while people get married. There were over 500 people there, and a lot of them were randoms that we didn't know or hadn't invited. But, we understood it, because it was such an odd and special occasion to have occurring on their lands. So, to prove that they were there, people would come up and sit or stand next to us while their friend snapped a picture. They wouldn't even engage with us, ask us for a photo, or tell us when it was happening. They didn't care if we knew, or were paying attention, or not. They just did it. 

 Tons of people handed me their babies to hold while they took a picture of us. It freaked Steve out, but maybe they thought it was a sign of luck. Either for them, their babies, or our potential future ones. 

 Random people doing random poses elicits random responses from yours truly. We had fun with it all. 

 Again. Hi. Who are you? And why do you only care about Steve, and push me out of the way to shake his hand?

 Our Matron. I think Steve was sick of all these shenanigans by now. What a trooper. 

 Some of our best friends from town made it out to the village! They kept us entertained during the ceremony, as they would sit in the back of everyone and make faces and us and cheers their drinks to us. These guys were always a great time! But one of my school girls and bridesmaids was trying to take a picture with me when all of our other friends drunkenly barged in and wouldn't let her get a snap by herself. She obviously wasn't pleased!

 Again, people trying to take pictures with us while our drunk friends won't leave the frame! lol. These kids don't smile for photos unless you tell them "sekanani!" - "laugh! please!"

 Steve didn't like that everyone was handing me their babies. I love the babies. And this one wouldn't stop staring at me, and even reached his hand up to touch my face. He was intrigued!

 My poor little baby Ruthie became very unhappy because her chair was on the ground by my feet and people kept coming in and standing in front of her/all over her to take pictures with us. They also kept taking her flowers out of her hands to pose in pictures, and I had told her that they were her special flowers so she didn't want to share. I ended up picking her up so she wouldn't be trampled, and we got Jones to stand up and keep a strong hold on his flowers, too. They were so protective of them!

 When we finally got a break from it all and could just sit back and watch all the craziness! It sure was a wild experience! 

My cuties.

My Village has a strict "no alcohol" policy. I brewed my own wine for my wedding guests to consume in my hut after the festivities were over, but otherwise there was no alcohol to be found. However, the day wouldn't be complete without one token belligerently drunk guy showing up, shouting, and showing off his sweet dance moves. I came to party!  

So this concludes a too-long post, but I'm sure I didn't even cover half of it! People always ask if we are real married, and the answer is no; this was a celebration and experience that we wanted to have with those we loved and were close with in Zambia. A lot of it was to understand their culture more, and to tie together two years of our story- as well as their story- in one final commemoration. To us, it was an expression of our love to each other, yes, but more so an expression of our love to the people of Zambia. It means a lot to us, but it doesn't necessarily mean that we are married (although, as my friend pointed out, it seems that our marriage is more official, as in their marriage they were never informed that should they divorce, God would strike them down, split their bodies in half, and let them bleed out to death before sending them straight to Hell). This was something that I really wanted to do, and it took a lot of persuading to get Steve to agree, but we are both so glad that we now have this story to tell! (Plus, I can pull the "husband" card whenever it is convenient for me, or I can pull the "boyfriend" card when that is more convenient!) Now, I look forward to experiencing similar things with him all over the world, until one day we return to the US and can have a Western ceremony, witnessed by our friends and family from home.  (Don't tell him though ;) ...)

Invitations: $5

Dress and Suit: $50

Rings: $10

1 Chicken: $4

1 Goat: $35

Total cost: ~$200

Having a wedding ceremony, conducted in a tribal language, in a rural village in Africa:

PRICELESS. 

"A mountain that is difficult to climb"

*Disclaimer- I started writing this blog back in October of 2014... that's how long it's taken me to sit down and take the time to complete it. So here is an update of Steve and my travels through Africa last year, but most importantly, our journey of Climbing Kili...*

A few weeks ago while couch surfing in our [new] friends apartment in Stonetown, Zanzibar, we left a bunch of things behind as we rushed out of his place in the early hours to catch a ferry back to the mainland of Tanzania. One of those things happened to be the charger and our outlet plug for the macbook. So we've been without a computer for the last few weeks, asking everyone where we stay if they happen to also have a macbook pro but to no avail until we reached this cool little hostel in Essaouira, Morocco. So now I finally have a little bit of power and a little bit of time to catch you all up again..

On September 30 we flew out of Cape Town, SA. After dropping off our rental car at the airport we decided to sit down at the bar and have a victory shot of tequila and a few beers before boarding the plane. Then on the plane we took advantage of the free bottles of wine. During our layover in Johannesburg, we had yet another beer, and then a few more bottles of free wine on the plane ride to Kenya and then to Kilimanjaro airport, Tanzania. Big mistake as by that point we had gotten little sleep on the overnight flight and were suffering some pretty brutal hangovers and motion-sickness. I've never gotten motion sick really in my life aside from in cars, but for some reason after primarily biking for the last few years, I tend to get motion sick on any moving vehicle. Our guide for the trek up Kili, Eligius and his brothers picked us up from the airport and drove us an hour to the hotel they were putting us up in in Arusha. The whole ride I spent with my head between my legs taking deep breathes so I wouldn't get sick. After we dropped our bags off in the hotel room, we went out with Eligius and his two brothers to a local restaurant for a traditional dinner. It consisted of a communal stew with chicken, potatoes, carrots, plantains, and other veggies, that you would then eat with your hands. The second part of the meal was 'nyama choma', or roasted meat. That we ate with the more familiar 'ugali', which is the same as the sima we've been eating in Zambia.

Back at the hotel while arranging all of our gear for the mountain that night, Steves cousin, Emily, and her friend Christy showed up to join us for the hike. Emily lives in London working for an advert company, and Christy is a nurse in Sacramento, California. They flew to Tanzania to do a safari in the Serengeti, then climb Kili with us. We had some wine, packed our bags, rented some warmer clothes and ski poles and gaiters and other gear, then went to bed early. And thus begins a week on Mount Kilimanjaro...

Day 1- Oct. 2
After a quick breakfast at the hotel, we loaded up the van and started the drive out to Kilimanjaro National Park. The night before, the guides and chef had gone out shopping for our entire weeks worth of food, so the van was pretty full. We drove a little over an hour to get to Kilimanjaro, then we had to drive further to the gate that we were basing our climb out of, since there are about 8 different routes you can take. Along the way out to Marangu Route, we stopped in a little village town in the rainforest to use the toilet. A man came up with a chameleon on a stick, that he probably found on the ground, and let us hold it and take pictures of it. He then demanded $10 per picture! We said he was ridiculous, but gave him a bag of chips, which he then threw back in our faces and demanded money instead. We agreed to delete all of the pictures and finally our drivers just drove the van away from the angry chameleon-schemer.

At the base of Marangu Route it was super foggy and drizzly as we packed everything up into these huge waterproof bags that our porters (transporters) carry on their heads. That consisted of all our clothes for the week, sleeping bags, food for everyone, water, cooking materials, and the gasoline to cook with since you can't make a fire on the mountain. We registered and paid the park feess, which included a $20 rescue-by-stretcher fee, $6 for the mountain crew, $50pp/night hut fee, and the daily park fee. We went to finally begin our first days hike when Christy got hit with a torrential visit from Mr. D. We were delayed starting by an hour or so, but that was okay because we didn't have long of a hike and we wanted her to feel healthy before going on a walk with no sit-down toilets for the next few hours. So while she was takin care of business, we opened up our first packed lunch for the trip. These guys do a pretty good job with the food. That first day we had mango juice, a traditional pancake, a shredded carrot and cheese sandwich, fried chicken, a banana, a muffin, and a chocolate bar! Pretty sweet. Once Christy felt better, we began our hike around 2pm. The first day was entirely through wooded rainforest with crazy vines and moss. The air was cool and so fresh. The surrounding nature, fresh air, and light physical activity just makes me feel so good and happy and right. I've really missed hiking, and it reminded me of the redwoods back home.

From the gate to the first huts (Mandala Huts) took about 3 hours at a "pole-pole" (slowly-slowly) leisurely pace. We crossed over rivers, saw small waterfalls, and even had black and white colobus monkeys swinging on vines above us, playing on each others backs, and eating fruit berries in the branches. From the HQ where we started that afternoon at 1,879m, to Mandala Huts where we slept that first night at 2,700m, we trekked 8km through Montane Forest. We arrived at dusk to first camp and checked into a simple little triangular wood hut. It had three small beds on the ground and one halfway up on the wall. It was so small inside though, Steve and I took one for the team and offered to share a bed so that we would have room for our bags on the fourth bed.

Mandala Huts, 2700m (8850 ft)

Dinner was around 6pm and in a bigger cabin-dining area. Eligius and his brother Abraham ate with us. We had some amazing (maybe more amazing because it was cold and we were tired?) zucchini soup, breaded fish fillets, pancakes, and fruits for dessert, as well as some nice curried vegetables over noodles because Christy is a vegetarian. Night time was cold and we all had to constantly pee because we were drinking 3L of water/day to stay hydrated, plus multiple cups of hot tea and hot cocoa and soup to stay warm. Every time someone got up in the cabin to go outside, we would all wake up, so it turned into group pee sessions right outside our door. So that first night none of us really got much sleep because we were all tossing and turning, getting up for the restroom, freezing, plus... Steve snores SO LOUD! So it was an adjustment for all of us. I just had to keep punching and kicking him through the night, so that works to quiet him down momentarily :)

Day 2- Oct. 3
We woke up around 6:30. Our porter/waiter provided hot water for us to wash our faces, which was a nice way to wake up and start another cold day. We had tea/coffee/cocoa for breakfast, along with fried eggs, avocado, bread, and fruit. The waiter took all of our water bottles and camel-baks and they boiled a bunch of water for us for the day. We packed up our bags, and stupid us (Steve and I), we decided not to pull the rain-cover over my large bag, because they put all of our bags into larger military-grade waterproof bags. Huge. Mistake. We started hiking out around 8am, and as we moved out of the rain forest and into "heather climate zone," which was a mixed climate with rocks, and cacti, crazy looking trees, and fire-poker flowers.... it began to rain. At first it was welcome and a nice drizzle. We stopped multiple times to put on and remove and put on our rain coats. I spotted a buffalo, but Eligius didn't believe me and tried to assure me that no game animals could be found on our route.. until he saw it himself. Anyways, it shortly started pouring down rain. It poured non-stop or 6 hours. That's how we discovered that there's really no such thing as "waterproof" clothing. By the time that we were all completely soaked through with numb, shaking hands, we stopped to eat our packed lunch... in the rain. We did find some small bush-trees we could all squat under, and we tied up a rainfly to try and block some of the rain, but it didn't help much.

Funky Trees on a Rainy Day

My Swiss Family Robinson Journal of our travels through Africa,
 now water damaged from Kili

After 6 hours of misery, we finally made it to camp dreaming of a hot shower and a change into warm, dry clothes. Unfortunately, there are no hot showers on the mountain, and even more unfortunately, our bag that we didn't pull the waterproof cover over had gotten completely soaked through. Our sleeping bags were wet, our change of clothes were wet, our socks were wet.. and there was really no place to hang anything to dry because it was raining outside. So, we took over our extremely small hut and hung up everything that we had, even my journal (where this is all originally written), that has now been given character and 'knowledge wrinkles' due to that rainy hike. We changed into damp clothes, then went to huddle in the dining cabin because you also cannot build any fires on the mountain. The hot cocoa and soup for dinner that night had never been more welcome. We met a group of 3 from London- Mandy (who shall hence-forth be referred to as Pole-Pole), and her married-couple friends, and we all sat and had nice chats with them. They were on the same trek as us, so we had passed and been passed by them throughout the day. Our porters boiled our water for us that evening, so that we could put it in our sleeping bags and use it to keep warm at night. We passed out early, bundled up and freezing. This day was so disheartening for me, being completely miserable and soaked to the bone... but we had to keep the bigger picture in mind! For now, we had made it to Horambo Hut, at 3,730m/ 12,205 ft.

Horambo Huts, 3,730 m (12,205 ft.) Dining Hall Cabin to the right

Above the clouds at Horambo Huts.

Day 3- Oct. 4

Zebra Rock.. Is it black and white, or white and black?

Our third day was our acclimatizing day. After breakfast we didn't need to pack up our big bags because we would just be doing a day hike, so we packed our day bags with cliff bars and water, then headed out, starting up a really steep hill. We hiked about 2 hours up to a place called Zebra Rock, which is just a big black rock with white water mineral stains running down it (or is it a white rock with black stains?!). We were there at the same time as the Pole-Pole group from the UK, and Pole-Pole offered us some candies (pi-pi in Swahili, pronounced like pee-pee), and we laid on some rocks for a while to chill out and get used to the altitude at 4,185 meters up. After that, it was an hour hike back down in the drizzle, then we just hung out at camp for the rest of the day. I took a nap, we played some cards, and had popcorn and tea. It was around that time that I started feeling pretty crappy, and my throat was so unbelievably sore and too painful to swallow anything. Luckily, we had nurse Christy along with us there, and the second she took a look at my throat she could determine I had strep. Even more luckily, I have an amazing man in my life who worries just the right amount to be prepared and think ahead. He had packed with him a 3-day Zpac of antibiotics, so I started taking them right away..

....Let me just take a side moment to dote on my boyfriend a little bit. He is so wonderful to me, all of the time. Like literally, all the time- he has never wronged me or been mean to me, or purposefully upset me. Honestly, I don't deserve his kind of love, especially with how often I get frustrated and grumpy and bitchy towards him. He's unconditionally sweet and caring towards me. Whenever I don't feel good, he'll take the time to get medicine or water or whatever it is that I need- even if it's in the middle of the night and he's comfy asleep and the meds are buried deep in his bag, he'll get up and unpack or dig for them. He lets me lay all over and sleep on him on buses, trains, planes, whatever, and he never complains even if his legs go numb. As long as I'm comfortable. He's constantly thinking of me, going out of his way for me, and putting up with my bullshit and mood swings, all with a smile on his face and a sweetness in his heart. His unfaltering love and unselfish demeanor are astounding. He is such an amazing man and I am so truly, unbelievably lucky that he chose me. I love him so incredibly much :)...

Okay.. Back to Kili. Sleep was getting harder and more restless with each night spent on the mountain, regardless of how exhausted we were by the end of the day. Add to the tossing and turning and freezing cold, a dose of strep throat (for me) and a respiratory infection (for Steve) that clogs your sinuses and makes Steve snore even LOUDER (it's possible?! yes.), plus the thinner air at the higher altitude and you barely accomplish any sleep. And sleep is exactly what we would need for...

Day 4, Oct. 5

Climbing out of camp

 We had an early start out of camp. The last two nights we had spent at Horambo Huts, at 3,720m, in the "Heather Climate" zone. At this point we were above the clouds which called for less rain and beautiful sunrise and sunsets. Anyways, Day 4 was going to be a really long day. We left camp after packing up before 8am, and started out on a path parallel to the one we had taken the day before to Zebra Rock. The beginning of the day was a lot of pretty steep up-hills, but it did flatten out a bit into a sort of desert where previous trekkers had made rock formations, spelled out their names in rocks, or created "luck" towers of stacked and balanced rocks. After a water break, Eligius and I started to jog the trail for a bit, so we could get out of the cloud shadows and into the sun. It felt good to run!

Getting to the "desert".. and a nice view of Kilimanjaro!! We would summit that the next day!! Looks kind of small?

At one point, you get to "Last Water Point" which means that there are no more water sources and you move up the mountain. It also means that this is where all of the porters have to gather water from to bring up the rest of the journey. 2 of our porters each carried 20Ls or water for the rest of the day, for many miles up the mountain. We took a short cliff bar break, Pole-Pole shared some more pi-pi, and we continued on our way. Once we reached the lunch area, about an hour and a half from our next camp, Steve's cousin Emily started feeling really nauseous. We tried getting her to eat but she could only stomach some juice. Her friend Christy also began to complain of a headache. We knew that the air was getting thinner as we were getting higher up, and a lot of people suffer from altitude sickness. After we started walking the last stretch, we looked back to see Emily hunched over throwing up. We all made our way slowly to camp with hearts pounding and short breaths. Once we were there, Emily and Christy pretty much collapsed to the ground while I signed us all in. We were given a larger room with about 12 beds in it, because they have hikers share rooms on the last night. We asked if we could possibly have the whole room to ourselves, and they allowed it because not many people would be coming through. Man, it was so incredibly hard to breathe and move around at this altitude. Just getting up to go use the bathroom was a feat and would leave you hunched over and breathless. We could really feel the sheer height at this point, as the high peaks and extreme altitude pressed in all around us.

View of Mount Mawenzi, an extinct volcanic cone next to Hibo, Kilimanjaros tallest volcanic cone

The day didn't get any better for Emily or Christy. Emily got so sick that Steve had to physically take her to the bathroom. Christy had pretty much given up the moment we reached camp, saying that she wouldn't be able to continue to summit. We thought that because she was a nurse, she was too much inside her own head and psychologically couldn't shake the fact that she was so far away from medical services if she did fall really ill- which is a legitimate concern, but the psychological aspect was such an important part in being able to complete this journey- you had to have a really strong mind, which I later came to learn. Emily remained tough as hell, but she was really really sick. Eligius and Abraham both tried to give them words of encouragement, but Christy seemed too far gone and determined to head back down the mountain, and take Emily with her. This was the toughest day of our trek so far, because after a 6 hour hike and arriving to camp around 4pm, we had some dinner, then went to bed at 6:30 pm so we could wake up at 11pm that same evening. Again, because of the altitude that we were at, everything was a struggle, even resting. It was so hard to breathe, and every movement that you made would send your heart into a pounding overdrive to try and compensate for the lack of oxygen. It literally felt as if it would explode, more so than mine would ever feel at the end of a 400m full-on-hurdle-sprint around the track. And the danger of laying down when your heart is pumping like this is at such a high altitude, is that it can pump so hard that it pushes blood into your brain and causes an aneurysm and kills you. It happens to quite a number of climbers that lay down when they summit Kili. So sleeping was nearly impossible, as well as terrifying, because every time you even moved a finger, or readjusted your hand, or god-forbid roll over to a different side, your heart rate would jump up.

Blurry view of our 12-person hut at Kibo Huts, with Steve, Eligius, Christy, and Emily

So, we were woken up at 11pm by a smiling Eligius and Abraham; a measly 3.5 hours after we had gone to sleep after a 6 hour hiking day. Emily and Christy we both still really sick- Emily had continued to throw up throughout the night, while Christy had such a pounding migraine that all she could do was cry in agony. They decided to stay behind and head back down the mountain after a little while longer of resting, which is the best thing to do with altitude sickness- head down and get to a lower elevation. We felt really bad leaving them behind, but they were adamant that we continued on and reached the top for them.

Day 5, Oct. 6
We layered up, geared up and started our ascent to the summit at midnight, just as snow was starting to fall down. Eligius, our steadfast guide, had developed pneumonia, so it was the three of us sickies (strep throat, respiratory infection, pneumonia), plus our WAITER, Ponceon, heading up the mountain. Abraham, our secondary guide, had decided to stay back with Emily and Christy and escort them down the mountain, so our waiter had to step in to summit with Steve and I. Crazy guy- Ponceon had on dress shoes and NO GLOVES! Man, we are such huge wimps compared to Tanzanians. It was absolutely freezing, and as I mentioned, snowing.. in the pitch black, with no light but your headlamp to see a few feet in front of you.

We zigzagged back and forth up the seer rock/sand face of the mountain. The only light in all the darkness, like I mentioned, came only from our headlamps. We could look up the mountain and see tiny specks of light from those above us, and look back and see tiny specks from those below us. Otherwise, we were alone in the vast darkness. With each step, the mountain seemed further and further away, and each breath grew tougher and shallower. After 3 hours of climbing, we reached Hans Meir Cave, a little gap under a rock slate where you could sit and rest out of the snow. We had a quick breather, some tea, cookies, and power bars. It was such a relief to be able to sit for a few minutes, but then we could barely stand back up! Steve took off his mittens, leaving his gloves on, for about 30 seconds to get something out of his pack for me, and he lost all feeling in his hands. Even with 3 pairs of wool socks on, and heavy gortex boots, we were losing all feeling in our feet as well. With every few steps that we took while climbing, we'd have to pause and kick our feet against a rock or the ground, just to gain a small sensation of feeling in our feet again. It was scary to feel onsets of frostbite like that, and know that you are hours and miles away from taking a break and warming up.

About 4-5 hours into the climb, I started to feel really sick and exhausted. Climing Kili taught me the true meaning of exhaustion- when you have literally depleted and exhausted everything that your body can offer, and you just can't carry on.. but you do. Steve was feeling the same way, but was encouraging me and didn't want to complain as well. Every few steps my legs would buckle out from me, and I would break down crying, knowing that I couldn't possibly take another step. Steve would hold me and make me focus on calming down my breathing. I wanted to quit a million times, and kept saying "this is good enough, I can always try again in the future". We both wanted nothing more than to quit and head back down the mountain. Eligius kept coughing and holding his chest, spitting up hunks of saliva and checking it for blood. All I could think in my head was "If Eligius is this sick, he should know to turn around and say he can't continue.. then it won't have been me who quit." We were all in pretty rough shape.

We slowed to a crawl as we reached the first peak of the mountain. We then pretty much rock-climbed for the next 30 minutes over snow covered boulders, having to use our hands and feet to progress straight up the rock face. Again, so many times I sat down and cried, and tried to quit. Eligius would not let me, and kept saying "just a few more steps, we're almost there." ...I kept on. At this point I realized how important your psych is, and how you have to have a really strong mind to accomplish feats when your body can no longer push on. It was my mind and the encouragement from Steve and our guide that got me over that first peak. Never in my life have I ever been pushed to my brink, and so far past my breaking point, over and over again. It was all we could do to put one foot in front of the other, and that is the exact definition of taking things "one step at a time"... you would put all of your concentration into moving that one step with one foot, then pause and take a few deep breaths, then put all of your concentration and will into moving your next foot in front of the last.

We reached Gilmans Point and were so completely overwhelmed with joy and exhaustion and happiness and all the feels, that we cried. Even though this was the first of 3 peaks we would have to reach, the was something about actually feeling like we had accomplished something; we had made it somewhere over and onto the rest of the mountain...

...and at that moment as we turned to look behind us at how far we had come, the sun began to rise:

It was the most beautiful and emotional sunrise I had ever seen, so much so, that I began to get a second wind. A new day was now upon us! (And did I mention that when we began at midnight, it was the first time I've ever had SNOW for my birthday!? And now this sunrise!? On the day that I turned 25!?) As I was getting high off of all of this emotion, Steve was fading down, and fast. We discussed turning back, calling this point "good enough," but Eligius said we only had two more hours to go, 1 hour to each of the next peaks, and we could see the summit in the not-so-far distance. I gave Steve my best pep-talk. When he felt like he had nothing left in the tank, two more hours of hiking an impossible feat, I was able to get him up and on his feet again. At our absolute lowest points, we encouraged each other and got each other through it. Neither of us could have done it without the other.

Walking from Stella to Uhuru Point along a cliff

We slowly made our way from Gilmans Point to Stella Point, along the edge of another sheer cliff. It felt like we were walking on the surface of a strange, frozen planet. Pole-Pole, step-by-step, always slowly. We needed to take many more breaks along our way to Stella, but we finally made it there- the "silver medal" of Kilimanjaro. We came this far- we couldn't quit now! Plus there were a bunch of old people up there. We were seriously some of the youngest people trekking Kili, and from all of the other routes up, we converged at this point with large groups of people from all around the world, all trying to accomplish their goal for whatever reason was driving them to succeed. It still took everything that we had, and Steve and I started to experience symptoms of altitude sickness, but eventually we made it to UHURU! (Freedom Peak!) Time Stamp: 8:02 am, 8 hours after beginning. 

Steve, myself, and our Excellent Eligius: THE MAN! 

Shrinking Glaciers

(I had to. Go SHARKS!)

We did it!!!

Happy 25th Birthday to ME!! :)

After taking our pictures and fighting with a group of 50+ Canadians who all wanted selfies in front of the sign (we did, too! but we were going to be a lot faster!), we marveled at the shrinking glaciers (which will soon be gone, #thanksobama)(<- the hashtag is a joke, because everyone blames everything on Obama), we started the trek back down to our previous camp where we had left all of our things. After feeling sick and wanting to throw up for the previous 6 hours, walking back downhill was a relief, and with each step lower in elevation, we could feel the effects of altitude sickness beginning to disappear. We made it back down to Gilman's Point, and ran into Pole-Pole, still on her ascent up to summit. Let me just add in that this lady was overweight, out of shape, and in her 60's... and she was KILLIN IT! We gave her some words of encouragement, not that she seemed to need any, and we kept going. We "skied" down the loose mountain after we got down off the boulders we had just hand climbed up a few hours before. The loose mountain side of sand and dirt allowed us to basically run down, instead of take the zig-zag trail, and plant our feet and "ski". Although this was extremely hard on the knees, it took half the time that it did for us to go up, and was a lot more fun. We made it back to Kibo Hut, both still feeling sick and exhausted. We took an hour long nap, which Eligius had advised us against, and we felt a lot worse when we did get up again. We had to get lower; you can't stay at that high altitude for too long. So we packed up our bags, had some soup, and then headed back down the trail we had hiked up the day before. 4 hours later we got down to the next lowest camp, Horombo Huts again.

On this day, October 6th, 2014, my 25th Birthday, we summited Mt. Kilimanjaro, all the way to its highest point, Uhuru Peak, at 8am. On that day, in total, we hiked for 15 hours straight, and covered 17 miles, with an altitude gain of 5,000 ft, then down another 7,000 ft.

When we reached Horombo, we were surprised to find that Emily and Christy were not there waiting for us, which is what the plan was. Apparently, they absolutely had to get off the mountain, and decided to descend the entire mountain in a single day, then took a taxi 2 hours back to the hotel in Arusha.

That night at Horombo hut, we met up with the married couple from the Pole-Pole group. The husband, Andrew, had gotten really bad altitude sickness when he reached Kibo huts, and had to be taken down the mountain in an emergency stretcher. The wife had gotten up earlier and summited a little before us, but for some reason we didn't run into her on the mountain. We updated them on the last time we had seen Pole-Pole at Gilman's Point, and wondered at what time she would make it back down to us at Horombo. My sweet man had sneakily bought a bottle of champagne and had the porters trek it up the mountain, and they made me a birthday cake- from scratch of whatever ingredients they could find!! I invited our new friends over, they lit candles and sang to me, we shared cake around the cabin, then I got to pop champagne and celebrate 25 years and my biggest life achievement ever, all alongside the man that I love :)

Day 6, Oct. 7
The next morning we packed up again, but before we headed all the way down the mountain, we met with all 9 of our porters + waiter and guide out front by the Horombo sign. We tipped them, these people who carried all of our things up and down the mountain and took care of us for a week, and we tipped them well.. Apparently much better than most people. They were so ecstatic and happy, that there was pure joy and excitement emanating through their eyes, bodies, and souls, as they sang us the traditional Kilimanjaro Congratulatory song. We danced around and give high fives and hand shakes and it was just a moment of shared love, happiness, and understanding. Our team was amazing!

It seemed to take a lot longer going down than it had going up, but I think that's because we were just so sore and exhausted. Eligius kept stopping and asking if we wanted to eat lunch, and Steve did, but I kept saying "NO! Let's just get off the mountain!" So we pushed on, through the heather climate zone, through the jungle with the monkeys and the vines, and back into civilization. 6 hours of hiking through the drizzle, feeling exhilarated as oxygen rushed back into our system and muscles.

We reached the Marangu Gates, and as I passed under it I exclaimed "Uhuru!!!!" and threw my hiking poles up in the air: "FREEDOM!!!" We signed our name and details in the registry, and we were awarded our *gold* certificate for making it all the way to the summit. We payed a dollar to get them laminated, finally ate our lunches, then packed back up into our van and headed the 2 hours back to our hotel in Arusha. You can bet that we passed out for the drive! Hot showers, cold beers, a comfy, warm bed, and Emily and Christy awaited us there!

Climbing Kili was the hardest thing that I've ever set out to do in my life. It was mentally, physically, and emotionally draining- and it drained every last ounce out of me. I couldn't have done it without Steve by my side, and I wouldn't have wanted to- I'm so glad that I'm able to talk him into doing all the crazy things I want to do! I'm so incredibly proud of myself for this accomplishment- for both of us. It was no small or easy feat. That's why it's called Kilimanjaro, which translates to "A Mountain that is Difficult to Climb."