Reflections / Introduction

It's been almost three months since our plane landed at OR International airport and our families and friends gave us the welcome home of a lifetime. I was convinced that I would immediately storm my computer, that our Kilimanjaro story would literally pour out of me and that I would be unable to contain the experience. I anticipated that the 23+ blogs I'd outlined on the flights home, would very quickly find their way to print. Turns out, I've been oddly reticent about committing this to paper, or should I say - screen. That's not to say I haven't shared. I say yes every time someone asks me if I'll give a talk and the "Kili roadshow" has been a never ending parade of school classrooms, shul halls and women's gatherings. Rob and I are still trying to figure out what the procrastination symbolises. When we get a handle on it, we'll let you know. She's encouraged, bribed and finally resorted to some Tough Love  (yes you can read threats and coercion instead). But finally, she asked if I would write an article for Soul Workout. The 350 word requirement quickly doubled as some initial thoughts spread across the page. It's not my 23 blogs, but it's an introduction and as I've learned, the first step is always the hardest.  
 


Umbwe Cave campsite, Morning Day 2

My Kilimanjaro trip was nothing I expected it to be for the simple reason that I had no yardstick against which to measure the experience. In fundamental ways, the Kili campaign altered my participation in a life where I had been monumentally and chronically busy often without being completely engaged. I was a frequently preoccupied wife, harassed mother, earnest but essentially distant professional caught up in the details and seeing none of the dimensions of my existence that imbued the mundane with depth or true purpose. I was a pedal spinning around and around without taking cognisance of the spokes that held all the central parts together.

 In a profound irony not lost on me, it took committing to the Kili climb – something I thought was entirely uncharacteristic of me and leaving behind the anchors that had defined my existence and personality for so long – to discover a more authentic version of myself and to learn some of the lessons it had appeared I had not yet absorbed.

It took catching sight of our first campsite at Umbwe cave, tents pitched at precarious angles as if some careless giant had strewn a handful of dice haphazardly among the roots of the rainforest's trees, to appreciate the lessons of letting go and surrendering to a Higher Power. It took enduring the cold, the lack of basic ablution facilities, the sleeplessness and discomfort of resting weary bodies on inhospitable volcanic rock to fully realise that inhabiting the uncomfortable and confronting the things we find disquieting can in fact birth resilience. It took the stillness of the snow-capped peak swept into sudden relief by the lifting of the clouds during Lecha Dodi on Friday night to instill true peacefulness and a silencing of the constant chatter that is the commentary of my every day’s waking (and sometimes sleeping) moments. 

It took my friend and fellow climber E, slipping her arm around my shoulders and supporting me the final torturous steps from Stella Point to Uhuru Peak to understand that although ultimately we are responsible for our own actions, our journeys do not have to be travelled alone. Our challenges can be faced better when we are brave enough to admit to vulnerability. Unbeknown to any of us at the time, E herself was on a long and painful journey toward rehabilitation after severely hurting her back in an accident that rendered her unable to walk.

It took a ten hour descent, slipping and stumbling down the mountain just moments after standing on the very Roof of Africa to understand that often what tests our mettle is fighting a downward journey over and over despite the triumphs we may achieve at other points in our lives. It took climbing Umbwe, arguably the most challenging Kilimanjaro route, to appreciate that all our climbs, our personal trials and most heart-rending challenges will seem the most consuming, the most difficult, until we realise that all our journeys reach up and that salvation only comes from constant motion, moving forward until you no longer have to – until in fact the sun rises. It took a group of disparate women, most of us strangers to one another, from varying backgrounds, wide age ranges and different stages of life to understand how unity shines when a common purpose is articulated. I watched humbled and grateful as a sisterhood wove its magic over the women of the Kilimanjaro climb leaving us forever entwined in a web of mutual love, respect and support.

On summit night, I shuffled forward holding my place in the line. The night sky - icy-cold and indifferent - was dark and endless. It took looking up into the unfathomable depths, ablaze with a cascade of shooting stars to understand that as long as our feet are planted firmly on solid ground, as long as we are prepared to trudge forward one slow, patient footstep at a time, our dreams will always burn bright and true, leading us to the most joyous achievements, the most profound journeys.

By Tali Frankel

 



Team Kili on the summit at Uhuru Peak

 

 

Would you rather...

From Day 1 of our climb, some of the climbers remembered a game that they used to play as kids to pass the time. Since the days were long and the walking was at times monotonous and at times quite rough, we began to play along.

 It goes like this:

Think of two dreadful scenarios and ask which you would rather do...

Some examples would be:

Would you rather do the summit walk in the freezing cold (-15 to -25 degrees Celsius) in wet clothes or no clothes at all?

OR

Would you rather sleep in a wet sleeping bag or in wet clothes?

And this is how it would go on, forcing us to choose between ridiculous scenarios that mainly had to do with wet clothes, no clothes and freezing cold weather. As this chatter went on, I would go in my mind to a much more pleasant ‘would you rather’ game.

 For me it went like this:

Would I rather get into a warm bath, surrounded by scented candles sipping on hot chocolate or snuggle in my warm bed, electric blanket switched on and good book in tow?

 I would imagine these wonderful scenarios, knowing none of these would be forthcoming for a long time but revelling in the images and feelings as I trudged along in the sometimes wet and often very cold conditions. When I suggested this game to my fellow climbers, they said it was no where near as exciting, funny or fun so there I was, left to my own musings and dreaming to keep me going strong!

 Now that I’m back the ‘would you rather’ question becomes:

Would you rather fantasise about your next holiday – warm, comfortable, 5 star hotel and beach included or go back to climb Kili?

 Hmmm…

 

by Daphna Horowitz

To the top of Africa and back

I’m no mountaineer and definitely no camper! Traveler? For sure. Adventurer? Possibly – as long as I know that I can return to a place of comfort. I have now returned to my place of comfort – my home – and I’m glad to be back and able to reflect on my journey.

If I have to sum up the experience in one sentence it would be: This was an experience of extremes – the toughest thing I've ever done.

I both hated every minute and loved every minute at the same time. An experience that challenged me on every level - physical, mental, emotional and spiritual. The question of “why am I here?” came up every single day and yet...

The exhilaration, the beauty and the spirituality were beyond description. To push yourself beyond the point you imagine you can go and then to be rewarded with magnificence and pure beauty is indescribable. To absorb nature's art in its purest form is joy! My eyes filled with tears every day – sometimes from the sheer hardship and sometimes for no reason at all.

The final night was a period of being awake 36 hours and on our feet for 25 of those. I was frozen to the bone. I didn't think some of my fingers or toes would make it. I was exhausted, depleted and broken. Shuffling along step by step in a line up, I was constantly battling the grip of cold, tiredness, breathlessness. I constantly needed to be woken up by my buddy behind me as I sleepwalked some of the time. The thoughts in my head kept me going and its amazing to become aware of where your mind goes in times of hardship. There was a point that I didn't think I would make it – my breaking point – just before sunrise. I could not see how far I had come or how much further there was still to go. All I knew was that I had been walking for hours and I was done – my body would move no more. I could go no further. A few sips of tea from the guides, hand rubs, back rubs and strong words of “you can do it, Daphna” somehow gave me the inch of strength I needed to get up again and reach towards sunlight – our only measurement of the end.

The rays of the sun were like a healing energy, as a little warmth and energy started seeping through my body and thawing my frozen bones. Slowly slowly I trudged further along the path. I made it, first to Stella point – a milestone on the journey to the summit – and then to Uhuru Peak – the summit. Uhuru was a further hour of walking in the cold, thin air. The path seemed endless, every slow step getting us closer to the peak. At this stage some of us walked in pairs, arms entwined, partners in climb, supporting each other to the end. The feeling of reaching the summit was incredible – it was unbelievable to have reached our goal in such tough conditions. We hugged, cried, laughed and took plenty photos. We had arrived at our goal after 5.5 days of climbing – just one step at a time!

I feel blessed and privileged to have reached the summit because I was millimeters away from not making it. The reward was the magnificence of the place and closeness to G-d! The support of the team and our loved ones back home got us through. This is an experience that has been life changing for me – I had to dig so very deep to get there and I found the strength in the depth of my soul, in G-d’s guiding angels, in the support of the team and in the love of the people back home.

At the end of a full night of walking, we still faced the walk down. Another 9 hours of downward climbing to the camp where we would spend the next night. Just as we reached the end of our strength, we knew we had much further to go! Reaching the summit was a giant achievement but coming down was still part of the journey too. Once again, we reached deep inside us to find the strength to continue and we did! Well done team Kili!

by Daphna Horowitz

This is a big deal

Decision to preparation to action takes some giant leaps. This trip has been a part of my life and thoughts for 3 months now but nothing compares to the morning of. I wake up with an energy that is electric – I can barely sit still to write this blog. Together with that sits a knot in my stomach expressing the dread of what I’ve undertaken. I realise that this is actually a big deal. Yes, another crazy idea that I’m actually putting into practice!

 I can’t actually believe that the day has arrived, that this is really happening. The logistics of the things that need to get taken care of before I leave are a mere distraction from my feelings that are overwhelming.

As I sit here and write, I am filled with love and emotion for the way this journey has taken hold and I’m touched with the outpouring of love and support that I’ve experienced. My eyes fill with tears at the messages that I receive from my friends wishing me well on this journey. The prayers, quotes and words are filled with love and that is ultimately what this journey is about.

As I say see you soon – lehitraot, tot siens – I’m carrying all that love and encouragement with me and I know that this is what will get me to the summit! On those cold, lonely, exhausting days and nights I will know that you are all with me rooting for me to go further – one step at a time! Onwards and upwards my friends…

by Daphna Horowitz

And then there were 18

The cemetery was the last place I expected to be the Sunday before our departure. The message came through on Friday that our friend and fellow climber Vered’s father had passed away. A sick man, he had been battling the complications of a long-standing war with diabetes. At our Thursday night farewell, a few days prior, Vered had confided that she had felt torn about the trip. On the one hand, she was bonded with us, we were like family and the climb meant so much to her. She had even taken her mother training with her that morning up the infamous Westcliffe stairs. On the other hand, her father was desperately ill, how could she leave him?

Vered and Shira

I stood close to several of the other climbers from the group at the funeral. The atmosphere of love was palpable. We all felt sorrow for our friend. She had lost so much - the trip that has meant the world to all of us, the adventure, the chance to participate in a project that has inspired and ignited the imagination of an entire community and of course saddest of all, her beloved father.  At a Jewish funeral, the comfort that is extended to the mourners is represented by the formation of two lines by the funeral attendees. Those present, form two columns which flank the mourners passing through the centre as they leave the graveside. As they walk, words of care are extended. 

My heart broke for my friend as I watched her pass with her family through the supportive columns. And then a strange thing happened. I remembered how Vered had said to me that she just wished that the decision about whether or not to cancel her trip with us was taken out of her hands. Inexplicably, the sadness inside shifted a little and next to it, settled a small space filled with something like acceptance. This mountain journey has a whole heap of lessons to impart. For those of us who are so intent on controlling our environments, of needing to account for every detail in frenetic and over-stuffed lives, there is a degree of relief that comes with letting go. So often I find myself anxious or stressed about things I have absolutely no control over. At those times when I learn to just release my hold over the things I can’t change anyway, in the giving way, there is an incongruous sense of peace rather than the sense of defeat one might expect to feel. 

After the funeral, I took a slow walk down to the gravesides of my maternal grandparents. It felt like the right place to be after all, on the verge of such a momentous journey. I sat between the two graves, and as is our custom, placed small stones along the rim of the tombstones, to show that I had visited. My eyes blurred with tears as I asked them to watch over me and the group. I prayed for a happy journey for all of us. I expressed a wish to undertake the climb with dignity and the hope that I will be able to withstand our challenges with a measure of resilience and good cheer. I asked my beloved Bobba and Oupa to hold my hands in the dark, and to guide me and my fellow climbers safely. I asked them to help my friend Vered to be comforted by her family at this difficult time of loss.

It’s a funny thing life. The numbers in the group have fluctuated up and down. There were at one stage 20 of us. Now there are 18. In Hebrew, letters have numerical values. The numerical value of the number 18, corresponds to the letters that represent a word which spells “Chai”, meaning life. In this moment of passing, as one dear friend loses a parent from this life, and leaves the group – bereft of her friendship and companionship, something else emerges: a new life, a different group, with a mission and a composition of its own. We pay tribute to our beautiful friend Vered and her family. We honour her with this climb and pray that as we ascend, so too will we fulfil our mission to bring hope to the many families and women who will benefit from this initiative. May we bring renewal and new life to all we touch through this project. I look at my fellow climbers. What a group! Determined, vibrant, supportive, clear eyed. We have trained so hard, we have prepared so well. We are ready! The mountain is waiting and we are on our way. Onwards and upwards.

by Tali Frankel

The Accerpeel Whisky Club

It was a unique experience I have to tell you! My husband is the drinker - not me. I have been drunk only twice in all my 35 (nearly 36 years) much to my husband's enormous disappointment. Somehow he thinks I'll be more fun if I were a tipsy version of myself. As if the sober version of me wasn't fun enough! Tsk! I ask you.

Anyway, when I told my friend Steve Crouse about this whole Kili lark with the punchline being that I wanted to raise a whack-load of money for ORT, he didn't even hesitate before committing his whisky club to a fund-raising event on my behalf. I was about to find out that when Steve says he'll do something, he really means it.

Soon after, he called me with a date. The gentlemen of the Accerpeel Whisky Club (and No! Do not ask me what Accerpeel means) had given their blessing and  had scheduled a tasting to take place at our local community centre, by invitation only. There was to be a light catered supper, drinks and the presentation of some fine whisky in the forms of Macallan and Highland Park.

The 10 and 12 year old Macallans and Highland Park

Patrons would be charged an attendance fee which would cover costs plus a bit extra which would go to ORT. But Steve wasn't quite done. He had then arranged for some raffle prizes, so that we could sell tickets beforehand and add extra money to the pot. There were some fabulous prizes - unit trusts, weekends away, vouchers for electronics, vouchers for Food Lover's Market, a professional photo shoot and the kicker - a diamond tennis bracelet valued at R25 000. Given those kinds of prizes, I sold R10 000 worth of tickets just by sending out bbm and WhatsApp broadcasts. But Steve still wasn't finished. He had contacted Sibusiso Vilane, who had graciously agreed to be our guest speaker for the evening. It was during his address that I first heard the term "Roof of Africa" applied to the summit of Kilimanjaro and it literally sent chills racing up and down my spine.

Sibusiso began his illustrious mountaineering career working as a game ranger at the Malalotja Nature Reserve where he met John Doble in 1996 who became a friend and benefactor, and who was instrumental in finding the necessary sponsorship for Vilane's Mount Everest summit expedition. Sibusiso started climbing in 1996 by summitting peaks in the Drakensberg. In 1999 he summitted Mt Kilimanjaro and went on to the Himalayas in 2002. He is the first black African to climb the world's highest peak twice and by two different routes. Three children's charities benefited from his climb: The Birth to Twenty Research Programme at Wits University, the Africa Foundation and the SOS Children's Village in Swaziland. Since his second Everest climb, Vilane has completed all Seven Summits. In late 2007, he and fellow mountaineer Alex Harris embarked on an unsupported and unassisted trek to reach the South Pole which, when they completed the expedition on 17 January 2008, made Vilane and Harris the first South Africans to walk to the South Pole, and Vilane the black person to do so.

It was a wonderful evening. I was interested to see that the "brand ambassador" of the Edrington Group of Whisky Portfolio (that's her official title) was a blonde bombshell named Candice Baker who flew up from Cape Town specially for the event.

Candice - who says she is genuinely as passionate about
whisky as she sounds!

I learnt many things that evening. It was my first ever whisky tasting so I had never been through the strict protocol that applies - gosh they take their scotch very seriously.  It was highly educational though and from Candice I learned all about the difference between sherry and bourbon oak casks, peat and its use in creating the smokiness in a whisky and of course how to appreciate the appearance, clarity, (you'd think these were diamonds we were evaluating), viscosity, taste, mouth-feel and finish. I learned when and how to add water to bring out the different effects on taste. From Steve I even learned the difference between "Whisky" and "Whiskey" - which impressed my trainer Andy who happens to be Scottish, to no end.

Bottoms up - getting into the "Spirit" of things

No doubt though, the best part of the evening was having the opportunity to meet Sibusiso. This great man, an explorer and adventurer is the humblest of souls - a gentle-man in the truest sense. Self-effacing and approachable he answered our amateur questions thoughtfully and with care and never once made us feel silly or inconsequential. He told us how on his first climb - up Mt Kilimnajaro, he was affronted when told as a young man that he would need to give his duffel to an elderly porter to carry for him. What kind of insult was this, his very manhood was being questioned! Until it was explained quietly and discreetly, that the elderly porter relied on his ability to carry the climbers' duffels to earn a living for his family. Sibusiso entertained us with stories of how he used to be amazed that the climbers would leave camp while the porters would stay to strike camp. 45 minutes to an hour later, there they were rushing past, duffels, tents, chairs, cooking supplies balanced on their backs. They would shoot past the climbers and all the while they would caution them, 'Pole! Pole!' (Go slow, go slow!) as they raced ahead to set up the next camp in preparation for the climbing team.

Robyn, Sibusiso, Steve, Candice, Tali - Cheers!

What an honour and a once in a life-time opportunity. That evening the Accerpeel Whisky Club raised over R23 000 for ORT. I was humbled by the generosity of Steve and his whisky club mates. During his talk Sibusiso said that in life, our mountains will always be there. Those challenges that face us will never get smaller. All we can ever hope to do is rise to meet them, and make ourselves bigger to face what comes our way. To my mate Steve - and his wife Leora (who I'm thrilled to tell you, won the tennis bracelet!) and to all the Accerpeel guys. Cheers!



May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you gently in the palm of His hand.

(Traditional Gaelic Blessing)

by Tali Frankel

Oh the places you'll go... and the people you'll meet!

It's an astonishing thing to experience. When you open yourself to something unexpected, suddenly the whole universe conspires to bring you new offerings. It's a bit like the dégustation menu in a restaurant. Dégustation is a culinary term referring to the careful and appreciative tasting of various foods. The process usually involves sampling small portions of the chef's signature dishes - just enough to entice and seduce the senses without the accompanying dread of excess that follows a binge. And so it's been with the Kili campaign.

If you had asked me, I would have told you that I don't do spontaneous. I don't do risk. I don't do adventure. I would have told you that what I do do are timetables, planning ahead, organisation - in fact anything involving a list, preferably colour coded and cross-referenced. I am after all the oldest daughter in a family of five children. I also happen to have a Type A personality - that should tell you just about everything you need to know about me in one fell swoop. Except of course that it doesn't.  As I've discovered, I actually can do adventure and right now I'm all about risk. And happily, when putting your Kili gear together lists are damn handy!

I think one of the most beautiful and inspiring things to have come from this experience has been the opportunity to meet some truly incredible people. Robyn arranged for the team to meet Brad Shorkend  - architect, motivational speaker, corporate trainer, entrepreneur. (See previous blog - 'What's your why?') His presentation of his Kili climb for the Laureus Sport for Good Foundation with Martina Navratilova in 2010 was incredibly helpful in terms of preparing us for the specifics of camp life and mountain etiquette. (He also had very useful lists!).

I was incredibly privileged to meet Sibusiso Vilane. This amazing motivational and inspirational speaker, and the author of the book To the Top from Nowhere is an adventurer, marathon runner, and mountaineer / expedition leader. I got to meet him at a whisky tasting a friend organised for me as a fund-raiser for the campaign. Robyn and I were lucky enough to sit and chat to him about hydration, Kili terrain and the old thorny question of Diamox. (He doesn't believe you should take it by the way, he swears by good ol' H2O).

Talking all things "Kili" with Sibusiso Vilane

Then there was Mandy Ramsden, who upon opening her newspaper and seeing an article about the ORT campaign called Robyn and arranged to meet her. In May 2010, Mandy became the second South African woman to summit Everest; and the first African-born woman to climb all seven of the World’s highest mountains on each continent. It took this mother of four, with a successful career in investment banking, only five years to knock off the seven mountains, starting with Kili in 2006. Mandy came to meet the team last week and her words of wisdom and practical advice were immeasurably reassuring and encouraging.

Meeting Mandy Ramsden

I am so indelibly grateful to Robyn for dreaming of this adventure and having the courage to make it a reality. I can never thank her enough for allowing me this opportunity to meet the beautiful group of brave women who are part of the Kili team. I have had the chance to meet explorers, pioneers, ambassadors. In many ways I've met my family members and closest friends for the first time, all over again.


Their generosity and uncompromising support has been literally overwhelming. They have donated money to the cause, they have cheerfully taken over the organisation of  a massive fundraiser that is in every sense my responsibility so that I can have this adventure. They have cheered for me and encouraged me, shown interest in every aspect of the campaign - even the 4:00 a.m. wake ups and the resultant stiff legs. They have made me feel like I can do this  without a shadow of a doubt. I can never repay them for this outpouring of love and support.

In the end, maybe what I will ultimately gain from all of this is that I might get to meet me - the real me, stripped of pretence, of artifice, of fear. Deprived of every material comfort, including basic ablutions and placed in the heart of G-d's universe, perhaps then, in the silence of the mountain, the traffic that invades every waking moment will finally cease. The chatter that is the soundtrack to my life, the on-going noise that questions, undermines, doubts and habitually interrupts may finally, be paused. In the quiet of Kilimanjaro, if I am lucky and if I listen carefully, I may actually get to meet myself.

by Tali Frankel