Monday, March 30, 2009
Mlima Yangu
From my diary... February 12th 2009
Sitting on the terrace watching the sunrise over Mount Kilimanjaro this morning, I am relishing this solitary viewing. The majestic mountain slowly unveils its silhouette as the snow-dappled peak glimmers blue.
A symphony of bird chatter welcomes it into the light, and the roosters crow unrepentantly, as if to announce to every other feathered creature that they are the true kings of this genesis jungle. It simply clarifies the word "cocky" for me this morning... While the rooster's crow is loud and distinctive, it still is no match for a lion's roar.
Soon, a plane flies slowly overhead and all quiets. This, surely, is the supreme bird.
The northern peak shines pink for a moment as the sun ascends, and a small band of clouds hovers mid-mountain like a protective dressing, guarding over the peak's majesty. I will be high above those clouds soon. I face the idea with little trepidation but much awe, and I wonder. What makes men want to climb mountains? What is there to be found up above? I do not know the answer, but I recognize the desire.
Perhaps we treat the ascension as a metaphor for everything else in our lives. This is the closest I can come to an explanation for now.
The sun has risen and the world is resurrected under the mountain's watchful eye. Down the street, children holler and sing as they make their way to school. The day's first dalla-dallas zoom by with dozens of passengers already on board, and the neighborhood's stray dogs give each other playful chase from field to field. Now the night watchman appears before me, interrupting my solitude, heralding the beginning of a new day.
Kili has awakened. ¶ 3/30/2009 03:50:00 AM
Sitting on the terrace watching the sunrise over Mount Kilimanjaro this morning, I am relishing this solitary viewing. The majestic mountain slowly unveils its silhouette as the snow-dappled peak glimmers blue.
A symphony of bird chatter welcomes it into the light, and the roosters crow unrepentantly, as if to announce to every other feathered creature that they are the true kings of this genesis jungle. It simply clarifies the word "cocky" for me this morning... While the rooster's crow is loud and distinctive, it still is no match for a lion's roar.
Soon, a plane flies slowly overhead and all quiets. This, surely, is the supreme bird.
The northern peak shines pink for a moment as the sun ascends, and a small band of clouds hovers mid-mountain like a protective dressing, guarding over the peak's majesty. I will be high above those clouds soon. I face the idea with little trepidation but much awe, and I wonder. What makes men want to climb mountains? What is there to be found up above? I do not know the answer, but I recognize the desire.
Perhaps we treat the ascension as a metaphor for everything else in our lives. This is the closest I can come to an explanation for now.
The sun has risen and the world is resurrected under the mountain's watchful eye. Down the street, children holler and sing as they make their way to school. The day's first dalla-dallas zoom by with dozens of passengers already on board, and the neighborhood's stray dogs give each other playful chase from field to field. Now the night watchman appears before me, interrupting my solitude, heralding the beginning of a new day.
Kili has awakened. ¶ 3/30/2009 03:50:00 AM
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