Wednesday, July 31, 2013

She Sings Me Up the Mountain

A Story in Which I Listen to a Mountain


            Climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro was the most difficult and transcendent challenge I’ve ever set for myself. It was hard to walk for hours uphill, and very slow progress. I got sick several times the day I took this photo, from altitude sickness, and was forced to go even slower. As I was trudging along, pole pole (slowly), and sipping maji (water) I had plenty of time to look at her. The mountain. I realized that she had given me a gift, even if I wasn’t terribly fond of how she gave it to me.
            She is beautiful, and so incredibly diverse. I adored every zone of Kili, because they show such unique facets of her; but I think this view is my favorite. I see her face in it. A face sculpted by violent eruptions, wicked winds, and the trudge and stamp of visitors’ feet.
Her profile is always turned up to the sky and the stars, she can see the whole universe twirling away from her place, rooted deep in the Earth. Her ice cap flows down from her profile like the glittering strands of a wise old woman, the archetypal crone. The dress of clouds that graces her figure billows like the skirts I use to spin across a contra floor; they are always moving and flowing around her changing shape. And she sings.
She sings a song of freedom and peace, calling adventurers to her peaks with a clarion call echoing in the wind. I cannot think of a better song than her silence.
When I stand on her ridges and hear her song, I am drawn ever upwards, floating in a space where anything is possible. The song settled in my bones, and I hummed along quietly, matching my pace to the twining melody. The melody whispers her stories, legends of how she was named, and of brave warriors on her slopes, of travelers from near and far touching her spirit.
When I finally reached the tip of her nose, Uhuru peak (freedom in Swahili, Kibo peak), I remembered her song. The sunrise leaked fire on her snow and ice, lighting up her face in warm shades, the only make-up this Queen wears. I danced to her song up on the peak, dancing a jig for her, and for the people I most wish could hear her sing too.

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