This
morning when I was going to my Swahili lesson I saw one of my Kilimanjaro
porters! I think we were both really surprised, I mean it was on my Sakina
road, so not just around town. I had long given up seeing any of them again; as
I thought that when they aren’t on the mountain they are probably in Moshi. But
there was reggae Jackson. He was on his bike and he saw me first and slowed
down and then I saw him and I am sure we, or at least I, had the biggest smile
on my face, and then we just said: “hi” and he moved on. But I saw him. I don’t
know why it matters so much, but it made my day. I mean I never really talked
to him when I was climbing Kili in the first place, but we went through this
thing together that I think I will always look back on as one of the best
things I have ever done. Then I had my Swahili lesson. Which wasn’t a whole lot
of fun, PJ doesn’t make it as fun as Victoria tried to do, but I have still
learned a lot, though most of it seems to go in and out in the same breath. I
had three hours and then lunch and two and a half more after lunch. A lot I
must say, but I need it. So after Saturday I was down to missing 36 hours. On
Sunday I met Freja and Camille at the Mt. Meru market, I knew what I wanted:
postcards and small gifts for my Icelandic cousins, a Kilimanjaro bracelet and
a painting with Kilimanjaro on it. I got all of that, which is good because I
really don’t have time to come back later with all the Swahili. Then I had
another lesson for some three hours (though in truth only two as I was a bit
late), but I was feeling unwell so we couldn’t do it for the originally planned
four hours. Then when I got back I moved officially into Laura’s room. This is
my last weekend in Arusha, it’s a bit weird, but with Mt. Meru and Zanzibar
that’s all there’s left.
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