I'm used to looking up at mountains, wondering if I'll ever feel energetic enough to climb them. However in a dull afternoon, I unexpectedly found myself at the top of one without any effort. And the highest mountain in Africa, no less.
The flight to Addis Ababa, without any surprise, was exceedingly uncomfortable and annoying. Narrow seats without any legroom, coupled with fellow passengers with no regard for personal space, was enough to set my face in a permanent frown. But all that changed when suddenly, one of nature’s treasures apparated in mid-air.
I happened to absentmindedly gaze out of the aeroplane window. I knew what it was as soon as I saw its dark purple body soaring by. The trademark icy peaks and wisps of clouds encircling the summit were giveaways. I knew it without even knowing which country we were flying over.
“Look it’s Mount Kilimanjaro!” I exclaimed excitedly to my travelling companion. Carelessly, she gave it a side glance and said, “Don’t be silly.”
I was angrily insistent that it was the famous mountain. A funny conviction, since I had only seen it before in blurry online images.
But I knew, and I was right. Seconds later, after it had disappeared from my sight forever, we saw our route on the flight map screen. The plane was displayed, gliding over Tanzania, and hovering obliviously over a mountain icon labelled ‘Mt. Kilimanjaro’.
A smug grin was cast at my friend while she acknowledged it with a look of wonder.
Yet self-satisfaction faded quickly while I pondered if I'd ever see that majestic mountain again. I guess the only sureway is to climb it one day.
