Into the Abyss

I was twenty when I left the safety of my small Canadian village to fly to what I imagined as a dark and mysterious continent. ‘Africa’ had always been intriguing- it was where I came from, where we all came from.

Tanzania was my destination of choice, and Mt. Kilimanjaro was to be my final accomplishment. But money slips through my fingers like tap water, and before I knew it, my hiking money had been drunk in the form of too many Tusker lagers. I had to find a way to see the summit, but at trekking cost of US $1000, I knew I wouldn’t be hiking it anytime soon.

It’s one week later and somehow I’ve managed to convince seven other volunteers into one crazy plan, or should I say plane? When it’s my turn I stumble onto the tarmac and pretend that I’m totally cool. ‘I’ve done this before’ I say to no one in particular. ‘It should be a cake walk’.

Now I’m in the plane watching my friends turn into tiny dots and the earth fall away like layer cake. The sun is setting and the sky is a Picasso painting. I’m not sure if it’s the altitude or what I’m about to do next but my head is spinning. My eyes are resting on the sun, which is ten times bigger than I’ve ever seen, and appears white amidst the red ocean of cloud it descends into.

I feel a tap on the shoulder and look back to the guy I am strapped to, but all I see are bright dots. The door opens and I think, ‘why….’ But before I can finish the thought we are tumbling from the plane and into the clouds. I feel nothing and everything all at once. I wonder ‘is this what heaven is like?’ and then everything stops and the whole world is silent. The parachute has come up and I can hear myself exhaling in the most satisfying, most ‘I-just-fought-death-and-won’ type of sigh.

We descend slowly, my instructor pointing out impressive sites like my own sky safari. ‘This of course’, he says with a symbolic flick of the wrist, ‘is Kili’, the affectionate local term for Mt. Kilimanjaro. I look at the imposing mountain of rock and ice and think about all the hikers who are gasping for air, pushing through the pain, and probably asking themselves ‘why have I chosen to do this to myself?’ The same thought I was trying to have before my instructor so mercilessly threw us out the airplane door and we tumbled into the abyss.

My friends are waiting for me when we land. We give each other high fives and hugs, laughing at the absurdity of life.