Mountaineering for the Novice Outdoorsman

Ashley and I thought it would be fun to do Kilimanjaro. We talked to some people that did it, they seemed to like it, though expressed that it was a touch difficult. So we decided that it was a reasonable endeavour. Turns out people usually train for the climb…maybe going for a jog occasionally may have been a good idea, or perhaps take up smoking to have a reason for failure. Smoking is expensive…

We arrived 12 hours off the originally scheduled flight time, were bumped to an adjacent hotel due to some climbers that succumb to altitude sickness, and the rancid tuna that I insisted on eating caused projectile vomiting. Planning on starting the Marangu 5 day ascent early the next morning, Ashley made the appropriate executive decision to delay the trip 24 hours, and add a 6^th day on the Machame route. Substituting huts for tents, and traveling with 6 others, we set to go. Our companions, all of whom we are now forever attached, in the way that people who go through something profound or terrible together are, were an international crew. Mike and Mei, 53 and 47, originally Chinese, living in Toronto for 20 years, eldest of the group, and hiked 20-25 kms per weekend with 25 kgs on their back to prepare. They were the best outfitted couple for the trip, complete with collapsible piss-pot for the tent. Dennis and Saskia, Dutch, early 30s, a gregarious adventuring couple, essential in the group entertainment following the daily treks. Michail and Barak, early 20s, Israeli married couple on a 4 month tour of South and East Africa. Both so ridiculously giving. And, the staff employed for the trip were each athletes of Olympic standard, transporting all cargo nimbly and quickly through the rough terrain. All 8 of us would marvel at their fortitude and chuckle at our sissiness.

On the first 2 days, the hikes were dragged out so we added 1-2 hours to the guide predicted time, so dubbing us “the turtles”. We wound our way through tropical rain forest, into temperate flora with trees adored top to bottom in ‘old man’s beard’, and into alpine scrub and grass. The last 3 days of ascent were spent above the clouds; the sun hot, the shade frigid. Dust and wind were our nemesis, but we found the early parts completely doable. Above 3500m, following several hours of hiking, played on our mind like a six pack of beer, and we continued to laugh heartily into the thinner air. Every morning met by the jubilant ‘water for washing’ wake up call, and every night tea and carbs. The last day, we arrived at Barangu camp, 4.6km into the sky, at about 3pm. The hike that day was long and hot, and we were schedule to sleep from after supper until 11pm for our final ascent at midnight. As the sun went down, the wind picked up. When I say the wind was our nemesis, it was a true bastard that night. We rested, but had no sleep that evening, tent pegs clinging to the rocky cliffs. At wake up call, we adorned ourselves in every layer that we brought, and began the serpentine vertical ascent of almost 1.5km, 7km across. We both did well, if somewhat freezing, into the late night. Gusts of ice crystals nearly toppling us were to last no more than one hour, but stayed to challenge the group for the entire climb. 4 hours in, Saskia and Michail began to complain of nausea, Saskia vomiting several times. Later, Dennis cited severe headache and Mei was falling behind the tempo – later to find that she was having difficulties seeing. The night bore on, and after 6 hours of winding hike, Ashley’s previous inexhaustible energy began to feel the effects of the extreme altitude. Nausea, headache, and freezing extremities smeared the last few hundred meters to attain Stella point (5700m) into an excruciating hour. Finally breaking the initial summit, to watch the sunrise, gave us a tremendous sense of relief and accomplishment, but the wind would not let us lose focus for long. We hobbled another 45mins across the barren arctic landscape to Uhuru summit at 5895 meters, nearly 6km into the sky. When Mei ambled her way to Uhuru, blindly, 20 minutes later, we enjoyed the successful climb of all in our group, snapping pictures and hugging. I would love to say that the fun was over, but 7 hours up meant at least 3 hours down. Fuck our faces. Ashley’s trouble was increasing the longer we stayed above 4000m, and it was to nearly paralyze her on the descent. We stopped momentarily to rest, to vomit, and rushed on weary legs down the steep slopes. We rested at the 4600m camp for an hour, then quickly descended to 3100meters that afternoon. In less than 24hours, we ascended, summited, descended and ended our day like the first, in the tropical rain forest. It was an amazing, masochistic, punishing, satisfying, surreal, and tiring experience. And we ain’t never gonna do that again.

Orphanage

My heart is heavy thinking about leaving the orphanage tomorrow. I’ve been so fortunate to work at the Gisimba orphanage. My day consists of teaching primary school children in the morning and then working at the orphanage in the afternoon. I shouldn’t really call it working, basically I just hang out with the kids and in the process I have found out what their needs are and have been able to teach them a little English as well. This past week there has been a group from a Christian University in the US who put on a camp for the kids. On Monday, I wasn’t sure if I should be helping with the camp or not. That question was quickly answered when I walked into the cafeteria and realized all the boys had saved me a seat in the back and made sure I got a number to be in their group. My heart swelled knowing that these kids look at me like their sister now, not just a teacher.

I have been touched by many children during my stay but wanted to share a few that I have been particularly close to. First, I would like to introduce Kalim (aka T.I., second picture) who is a child Rob and I decided to sponsor through secondary school in Uganda. When I came home Monday evening with the idea of sponsoring Kalim, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I started to describe Kalim to Rob and the first thing I could say is that he reminds me of my brother, Ronnie (this is when the tears started to flow haha). He is gregarious and everyone at the orphanage loves him, myself included. Kalim has been so giving since I’ve been here, teaching me how to do Rwandese dancing and also helping me with my Kinyarwanda. One day while he was dreading my hair (yes, dreading my hair) he asked me to be his sister and told me that I have quickly become his best friend. He is one of the most loving people I have ever met and I know that he would fit in perfect with both Rob’s and my family. His parents have passed away and the rest of his family in the genocide. I hope that we are able to make a difference in his life as he has made in mine and maybe one day we can bring him to Canada to meet all of you. The boy in the next picture is Eric, who is 10 years old and in primary 1. His mother died of AIDS and his father works the gates of the orphanage with no way to support Eric. He is beautiful and is always the first one to run up and hug me even though he’s extremely shy. The boy in the yellow hat is Joe. I have worked with him a lot as I am trying to figure out a way to help him through school, he’s number one in his class and is taking accounting. He will be looking to go to University next year in Uganda so that he can get a good job and help support his sister through school who had to drop out to work as a housekeeper to live. She is 16 and has only completed primary level 3. Joe’s parents were killed in the genocide. Most of the children’s parents have died of AIDS and almost all of the 76 boys over the age of 16 parents have been killed in the genocide. Even though these children have been through so much and don’t even own a change of clothes, they are so contagiously happy. I can’t begin to describe how elated I’ve been working in the orphanage. I feel so blessed to have been able to experience the love these children have and to learn from them every step of the way. I put off saying goodbye to them for one more day as tomorrow Rob will come with me to meet them in our last few hours before departure. I’m especially excited for him to meet Kalim. Today, Kalim gave me earrings to bring home to my sister and mother and wrote them a letter. He has made me 4 bracelets and 2 sets of earrings along with a card. He gives me all that he can even though his friendship is enough. I have also attached a picture of him and I during craft day.

I can’t wait to get home and tell everyone in person our experiences here in Rwanda. I am just as nervous as Rob is for Mount Kilimanjaro. On the other hand, I think that being able to reflect on this past month on the top of the highest mountain in Africa will be well worth it, After Kili we will be taking 4 days to relax on the beaches of Zanzibar before our trek home. We will not have much internet access until we arrive back in Canada but we will try to keep in touch. We love you guys so much and thank you for following us along our journey in Rwanda! xo

Internet connection isn't working well so the pictures will not upload.. will try again tomorrow

Muraho

We have a few days left, then we try our hand at Kilimanjaro – which honestly scares the shit out of me…We’ve read up on the best ways to avoid altitude sickness, and are going to take the proper precautions, but I can just see my sissy baby lungs getting within a 4hr hike of summit, then I lose consciousness, and start pooping grey matter, and ruin the rest of the trip because I have to sit in a fancy private Tanzanian hospital with the couple other losers that couldn’t make summit because of blisters and altitude sickness. If this happens I’m photoshopping my face on the body of a person that made it, and saying it was an awesome, and I went up pretty much the fastest they’ve ever seen. In reality, some local in flip flops, smoking a cigarette, carrying my bags, will be running up ahead to fix dinner while we complain that we’re tired and our boots aren’t comfy. At least the pics from the bottom are sure to be great…

Ash and I have been pouring over the snapshot of culture shock we’ve both encountered. She’s wrestling with her thoughts of making a financial contribution to a select few versus donating to the organization, and meeting with a full spectrum of opinions on the subject. The needs are many, resources few, and it’s hard to see what, if any difference we can make. But I think, after some emotionally charged discussion, we’ve arrived at a direction that we feel best suits our desire to help. I’m sure she’ll let you know the proceedings…

Me, I’ve been mercurial between my moments of enthusiasm and frustration. There seems to be so many aspects of Rwanda’s infrastructure that are thrusting ahead feverishly, though others have not even left the starting blocks. The uneven development is often astounding to me – how large road construction projects drone along, though there are virtually no traffic laws, for example. But then, where exactly do you start rebuilding a nation? President Kagame is in the throes of an election campaign, to culminate in a ‘democratic’ vote August 9^th. He has helmed the country through some very tough times, and plans to stay on for another 7 years to hopefully help keep this momentum going into perpetuity. When I first arrived, having read and discussed the history, I had to admit that Kagame had a good game plan, that the proof is in the pudding. Over the month, I’ve met cynics, both locals and muzugas, that sang a different tune. I realize that in politics, as with most things in life, you can’t please everyone. But I would, on occasion, get the sense that some people feared the regime that was functionally a benevolent dictatorship, where free speech and antiestablishment thought were met with long jail terms, and that’s not simply political belly-aching. I was somewhat unsettled to see the front page of the local newspaper splashed with a colours and slogans of the ruling party, and virtually no audible competition nationwide. There may be a vote, but I can bet it will be to keep up appearances. On the flip side, Paul Kagame watched a previous Burundian leader, very popular with the nation, conduct a fully transparent democratic election, only to be defeated because constituents still voted along ‘tribal’ lines. The longer I stay here, the more I learn, and more I see that I know nothing about the historical dynamics of Rwanda. The deep furrows of colonialism, and gashes of warfare…

I’ll add a few random shots if the connection holds out. Hope everyone is doing great.

Medcin

We’ve talked about our extra-curricular activities a lot, complete with photos of our weekend adventures, trying to illustrate how much Rwanda has to offer. Though we have spent plenty of time touring around, we’ve both been spending most of our time in the orphanage or in the hospitals. Ashley has been struggling with the direct personal stories of youth poverty and shattered families, where I’ve been witnessing incredible surgeries with very little, and patients that may have reached recovery if resources were available; instead they are destined to die. The intensive care unit has patients that need aggressive physiotherapy and long term care, but the reality has them flailing in the hospital until they eventually acquire an infection that kills them. The first picture looks like a uterus lollipop, invariably full of tumor. She is a woman in her 50s that started having abnormal bleeding over a year ago, but follow-up and investigations were costly, so she is now at high risk of having metastasis. And there’s no way to investigate it. The second is a syringe full of pus, about 15mls. It was aspirated from the lateral ventricles inside the brain of a 5 month old. The ventricles should be full of clear, watery fluid. He was born with myelomenigocele, advanced on the spectrum of spina bifida. If his mother could have had access to simple folic acid, he may have been born with a normal spine. There is no prenatal ultrasound diagnoses. And there is no option for vancomycin, the only antibiotic that could save his life. He probably won’t live out the week. The third picture is of a keloid, like super scar tissue, on an ear of a teenaged girl. She would never have gotten this far without intervention if resources were available. And the final picture is of an enormous spleen. There is a Rwandan 100 Franc piece placed in the bottom corner to give you an idea of the size – the Franc is about the size of a loonie. And your spleen should not be any larger than about a quarter of what is displayed. The cause is ‘Tropical Hypersplenism’, which is apparently attributable to malaria. It’s the 3^rd splenectomy I’ve seen for the same reason, and there is no prophylaxis for the bacteria that your spleen is responsible for killing. As far as Rwanda has come, and let me assure you, it’s very far – it still has considerable room for growth. I look forward to returning in a few years to give me a better sense of its race towards development.

Ashley and I have been talking about her work a lot, and I bet she’ll post some more pictures about it. Maybe not as gross.

A lament for Dale Morrison

I’ve been so fortunate in my preparations for Rwanda in that I’ve had access to many personal friends that have participated in the Canadian Anesthesia Society’s education initiative here. Every question that a guidebook can’t answer, there was someone there to help me. And Dale was one of those people. Dale, trained as a respiratory therapist, and later, and anesthesia assistant, made the trek to Rwanda over a year ago with another Dalhousie staff person. He was well versed in monitoring equipment and machine function, which was a dire need at the time. He planned to return in early 2011, and asked me to take photos of anesthetic equipment interfaces. It was a simple task made simpler by virtue of the fact that he was an easy person to help out. Even if you just met the guy, you’d get the feeling that he’d help you in a heartbeat. Genuinely a nice individual, I’ve never heard him say a negative thing. He was one of those rare people that seemed excited to be at work everyday. He talked of his family often. He was engaging and interested in what you had to say. He appreciated a good scotch, and was that person that gave maritimer’s a good name. He died suddenly at home last month, to everyone’s disbelief. Though he leaves behind his wife, and two young children, I can’t help but feel that they knew exactly how Dale felt about them. So, if there’s someone you’ve been meaning to talk to, but haven’t, someone that should know that you love them, please take a page out of Dale’s book. There’s a veritable international army of people that will miss Dale, and his enormous capacity to care. And to everyone that’s reading this, Ashley and I love you!

What a difference a week makes

Emmy arrived in Butare with Ashley in tow for our last guided weekend. The rest of us had been in Butare since Wednesday night, and were set to adventure. We wound our way westwards, through the Nyungwe forest, whilst the temperature dipped to 19 degrees during the middle of the day. We stopped frequently to take pictures, to appreciate viewpoints, and to see the origin of the Nile. Near the far end of the forest, we came to a conservation cooperative that took the form of a hotel and residence for researchers. It was a quiet, beautiful collection of buildings, just off the only road in the south that reached to Congo. It was otherwise very remote and engulfed by nature. We would spend the next two nights basking in the sounds of the rainforest by the campfire.

The next morning we were welcome by a large breakfast and the managing Australian whose primary job was to develop the park into an internationally recognized haven – with assistance of a Rwanda/international group of workers. We prepared our packs, and headed through the dense green carpet of a tea plantation, then along the serpentine waterfall trail. The valleys were narrow and sharply cut into the volcanic rock, thickly populated by old growth trees. At points during the walk, the canopy opened to treat us to expansive views of Nyungwe tree ferns and igishigishigi. Approaching the waterfall, the sound of rushing water drowned out our voices, and a tropical oasis waited our arrival. We sat and ate our snacks below a 45 foot cascade of water, just like a millennia of Rwandans before us. Returning in the early afternoon, we decided the night would best be filled by relaxation…

The next morning, we made to leave our little Ewok village, and enjoyed the fruits of Emmy’s labour. He arranged a visit to the tea factory nearby, who specialize in fine Rwandan black. I’m sure as time goes on, and standards continue to increase, there will be very few visitors allowed to reach into the drums of semi-dry tea bits and pull out a handful. Don’t worry, we put the bits back. From there, we left the park, and headed to a genocide memorial on the way back to Kigali.

Ashley here. Rob and I decided that I would speak first of the memorial since I have been to the Kigali one as well. The memorial located in Kigali and the one we visited Sunday in Murambi are vastly different, yet both convey the horror that occurred during the 1994 genocide. The Kigali memorial told the story of the genocide through words; the Murambi memorial did not need words. As we approached the gates of the memorial on Sunday my stomach was in knots and my palms were sweating. I knew what I was about to see was going to be difficult, but out of respect of those affected by the genocide, I felt it necessary to view as many memorials as I can while in Rwanda to try and understand what this country has gone through. The memorial setting is a school placed atop a clearing with a panoramic view of agricultural fields, where fleeing Tutsis sought shelter and protection from Hutu militias. Through coalition of the French army and the militias, Tutsi civilians were lured into what they were told was sanctuary. 50,000 people endured 2 weeks of premeditated starvation and dehydration, enough time to weaken even the strongest among them. April 21^st, under the veil of darkness, the militia massacred every man, woman, and child for an ideology called Hutu Power. “We felled them like cows.”, a genocidaire was quoted. In this memorial you walk through room after room, viewing almost 900 of the preserved, half decayed bodies of those killed at this location. Rob and I held hands and made it through the memorial, while I prayed to God, to Dad, to whoever was listening. I prayed to bring peace to the souls of the bodies that we viewed and to bring peace to their families. The remains of babies, children, lay in front of us, clearly exposing the mutilation that their bodies endured. Bodies missing limbs, fractured bones tearing at the flesh, skulls of little children stomped upon, mouths open in terror...all frozen in the position they fell in the mass graves. We heard the screams without any sound. I was uncomfortable for the first time in Rwanda. At the Kigali memorial I was overwhelmed with sadness, at the Murambi memorial the feeling was fear. Eventually I looked at Rob and told him I didn’t need to see anymore. I didn’t need to continue walking into the classrooms not only seeing death but smelling it as well. Emmy had said that a bullet was a diamond during the genocide. A Tutsi would pay 1,000,000 Rwandan Francs to have the privilege of being killed by a bullet. The militias were not ordered to simply kill, they were ordered to torture. They would cut limbs with axes and leave bodies to die, sometimes for days. Children and babies were not spared; they were to be killed in the same manner as all Tutsis. Our minds will forever be etched with the images from this memorial.

Our day ended rather somberly, heading back to Kigali to reflect on the beauty and utter despair we saw on the weekend. Love you guys.

not much...

I added the pictures I was talking about yesterday to yesterday's blog entry...the connection was too slow to upload at that time.

Roger and I rolled the ORs in Butare today - one OR, six residents. We used the oldest still-active anesthetic machine that I've ever seen, but were supplied with a complement of new medications. Patient did great, and very pain-free. The next OR had a patient with a large intra-intestinal worm, though, so that was pretty interesting - if you're into that kind of thing. And now we're going to head down to see if the hotel pool is swimmable. I realize that it sounds like Ashley and I are in 2 different worlds right now, but don't blame me if my volunteer program is well managed! She paid a bunch of money, sure as shit they can afford more than hot dog buns for breakfast. Anyway, she'll be getting away from the poo-pots for the weekend, and will have some semblance of comfort for a few days. Builds character.

Gotta hit the pool. ;)

and what the hell, here's another pic of Roger, me and the residents. From back to front, left to right: Christian, Rog, Claude, Fred, Antoine, Sylvestre, Theo, Domascene, Issac, Aflred, and me. Missing is Adolphe.