QBLOG #38 Karibu!

Karibu (pronounced Ka-ree-boo) is Swahili for Welcome. It is how I was greeted when I hit the airport in Nairobi, Kenya.

My friend Eddie Sanders lives in Nairobi. Eddie and I have taken several vacations together and we decided that I would come to Africa and we would climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. Mount Kilimanjaro is the highest mountain on the African continent and, at 19,340 feet, is one of the world's "Seven Summits". A climber will pass through five separate climate zones, going from equatorial to arctic, reaching its summit. Mount Kilimanjaro is comprised of three volcanoes, is 37 miles long and 25 miles across and each year 15,000 people attempt to reach its summit with approximately only 10-15% actually making it to the summit, Uhuru Peak.



Kenya and it's main city, Nairobi are incredible. The landscape and art and people form a mixture that combines to greet visitors with a genuine Karibu! that indeed makes you feel welcome. There seemed to be an air of familiarity for me. Not unlike Baghdad where I have felt that I some how belong, Kenya had the same feel. Not as a visitor, but as someone returning home. Certainly having the comfort of Eddie as a friend and guide lent itself to some of that feeling. But there was more. The landscape and art reminded me of my native Santa Fe and New Mexico. I have been places in the world where I felt like a stranger or a visitor. I did not feel that in Nairobi. I did not feel that in Tanzania. I did not feel that in South Africa. It gave me pause to ponder on the word "home".

After visiting a Giraffe park (you could actually feed the Giraffes and of course, I did) words began to form in my head about this land I now stood in. Here are those words:

There is in this world
beauty beyond our imagination.
It hides in the nooks and crannies of things
we do not want to look at.
It emerges from the hearts of those whose names we do not know,
whose lives we cannot imagine exist.
It pours forth in the form of their art...
their simple life, their sincere and gentle smiles....
And in the sadness of eyes
that have seen too much potential lost....
Too few opportunities available...
and have survived despite the neglect of the world.
There is love still.
And in that there is beauty
that cannot always be seen with eyes.
There is this world of beauty beyond our sight,
right in front of us.
If only we would see.


My impression of Africa. It is as if the heart of the world beats....originates from this continent. You here it pounding in the beat of drums of the music and flowing through the country in the bright colors of their native dress and jewelry. You feel its warmth in the smiles and greetings of Jambo Mazungu! (Hello White person) or Karibu Mazungu! (Welcome White person). The greeting is sincere and simply distinguishes you as someone other than a native, but welcomes you to share in the experience that is Africa. It is an experience. One that I will carry with me.

We left Kenya to Tanzania by bus. At first I was dreading the 6 hour ride to our destination in Tanzania. It is the best way though, to see a place. I became more endeared to this country, to this continent. The roads are horrible but the landscape makes up for it. At times I felt I was in the middle of a National Geographic film. As we drove through The Bush we saw Bushmen herding their flock, walking along dirt paths in their colorful dress, packs of supplies balanced on their heads seemingly held their by magic. We passed through towns that were no more than a stone throws from end to end and basically a collection of homes put together from sticks and stones, remains from gunny sacks, tin roofing or simply mud bricks. We stopped at the border to Tanzania. We were told to disembark from the bus and walk 500 meters to the other side. Once we had our passports stamped and obtained our Visa's we would then board the bus on the Tanzanian side. There were people everywhere trying to sell us jewelry, crafts, carvings, food, drink and even fake Visa's. It was overwhelming to be surrounded by men, women and children, young and old trying to sell you something...anything. If you even smiled or paid attention to one, you suddenly had 30 people trying to sell you something. Your heart breaks and you walk on. You must or you will never be able to leave. You walk on, get your Visa and board the bus.




Arusha is our next stop. From here we meet our guide for the climb up Kilimanjaro. Arusha is 1.5 hours from the base of Kilimanjaro. It is also the site where the Rwanda War crimes trials are being held. On our way to lunch we meet Livingston, a young man who is wanting to sell us/me a Batique print. I engage him. I look through his collection of prints, but do not find anything I really want. He follows us. He tells me that he is the lone supporter of an extended family of 8. He wants me to buy one of his paintings. $20. We walk on. $15.00. I tell him not now. We depart. After lunch we walk back to the hotel. Livingston is there to greet us. Please he tells me. "You are my father. He is my brother (referring to Eddie). We are family. You should help me your son to feed my family." I am distraught. The thought of me being someone's father...the responsibility. "I'll give you a good price my father. $10." Not now I tell him. We walk off. It is much later and we are walking to dinner. Livingston is there. Waiting, greeting us with a smile. He takes my arm in his. "Father, please, I have made no money today. I will give you 2 for $5.00." I'm lost in my thoughts and think of what I should do, what I feel I must do. Eddie intervenes and I am thankful. Eddie tells me that each street vendor is experienced and knows how to get to us. His story could be made up. Truth be told, it is probably real, but he will make money and he will survive and be able to feed his family. We eat dinner. Mine alone cost $20. It is not lost on me that this one dinner could have fed a family of 8 for a week.

I am on vacation. I am privileged in a way I have not realized. I am wealthier than almost everyone I will meet on this trip. I am humbled and in some ways disturbed by this. In ways it makes me believe I have the responsibility of a father to his children. Those of us who are indeed privileged have a responsibility to those who are not and to the world as a whole. A responsibility to respect and to empower. This thought remains with me through the remainder of my trip.

I end this Blog in Arusha, Tanzania. It is a good place to end one journey and a good place to begin another. Kilimanjaro, here we come!

Blessings and Peace.
Robert