KILIMANJARO: under the lights of the sky. Kenya travel review
I do not know, I've often thought about this journey and I often wondered if the description that I would have given had been able to give a paper on the real feelings that you can try looking at what I regard as a wonder of the world: the KILIMANJARO. Then I thought: there are no words to describe emotions. Then I said to myself: ok! I tell what I experienced, maybe I'll 'intrigue someone, maybe I'll' relive a journey and to those who 'was involved as me, maybe .. I would dream of others .. curious to one day be able to admire this immense mountain of Africa. Begin 'for the event was the third time I returned to the village of Masai Njukini. A small center Masai, where life seems to have stopped the first 800. Dropped from the small matatu (minibus most local 'disasters half to be scrapped) .. and where you can eat so much red dust, the land of the savanna, more 'than you can imagine it. But even that was the beauty of my adventure Masai. My African journey repeated each time hated but loved. But we will talk about 'after. I got out of matatu, I and my husband, we headed straight for the hut of her mother. A family Masai anchored the principles and traditions of the past. He, the Masai modern. My husband. With so much cell phone and fashionable glasses. With pedal pushers and Nike. DG T-shirt and .. hat with visor. The stranger at home! Cosi 'was called. He ... considered''Maddalena''.. Masai language''crazy.'' Mad because 'he managed to live as we Mzungu white). He who now eats fish (the Masai do not eat, even if they pay. Try it!). Anyway. He who seemed to have changed ideologies, ways of doing and thinking. But we did not know who he was and will remain 'forever in his mind a''' real''Masai. They have traditions in the heart. The brain. Deep in the soul are, and will always remain, warriors. Men of the bush. Bring powerful cars, will have the license and know how to use the computer. But they will always remain: the Masai of Kenya.Il my trip so it was programmed to a total experience Masai. The real Africa. What we feel and know that deep down in our country. If we say Masai, say Kenya. I got out of the matatu I also blocked the legs, over his eyes. I was there, in front of that mountain snow. I was in front of Kilimanjaro. I felt a shiver and I shook the recall of John (my husband). I realized that I had all the looks of the country on me. All in front of the barracks that looked at me like I was a strange animal. Mah .. I do not know. Some children were scared of my presence. Someone even screamed as I passed. Was afraid? I felt embarrassed. I tried to be indifferent, but whenever I passed a woman heard the word Mzungu circling in the air. About me. Not sure of my dress. Yet I tried to be like them. I wear a loincloth Masai. On a colored shirt trying to get me to mix with their colorful clothes. I knew that I was mocked. My clothes made them smile. A Mzungu with clothes Masai. Ridiculous. John was always more 'indifferent to the glances of women. The Masai, the men, we were meeting. Someone mentioned a word of English. Someone else I smiled and handed me a hand with a simple Jambo.Altri, stopped with John. WHAT 'life with a white woman? And like kissing? E 'as our women? Questions about questions. Even the most 'children assurde.Alcuni slowly trying to approach. Others walked past me and, pretending to beat, tapped me with his elbow. Who knows' that feeling will be felt. Them that a white had not ever seen, now they could even touch her, touch her. And do not tell those who try to understand if my hair was fake or had extension. Yes, the Masai women have all their hair shaved off. And I have long hair and well clear. How odd. But let's go to my Monte! Arriving at the hut of her mother started saying goodbye. Pleasantries that make these people the best guests in the world. Their house and 'yours. Everything stops to greet and to fit better the new host arrivato.E think if the guest and 'a white man. Even the neighbors arrive to lend benvenuto.Dopo festive greetings and the classic cup of Chai (milk and you ') John and I decided to go for a trip to savannah. Besides with a Masai dangers that they run?! (unconscious!). We headed for the bush. You can not imagine how many km. I had to walk. But you can not even imagine that feeling you have walking and not meet a bike, not a car or a motorcycle, but rather 'a beautiful giraffe. We encountered 6 that day. All very high. Never seen so 'high. And gazelles, dik dik then, then zebras, wildebeest then, and finally, NO! .. Fortunately we have not encountered the lion. I am scared, I admit, I dreaded the idea of being able to meet dangerous animals, but I felt protected. I was with my warrior. The man in the bush. I could not be afraid. But I guarantee you that today I realize what I was unconscious. I think it's the air of the bush, the smells, the colors, its sounds. I think it is a whole set of feelings that can make you feel strong and make you feel secure even a fearful man. And then he was there .. majestic. Impressive. Front of us. He: Kilimanjaro. We had dinner with his family. Women on one side and men from another. How and 'Masai culture. I, the Mzungu guest, I could jump from one place to another without problem. I was allowed to eat with men. But a Masai woman, a woman circumcised, can not 'see a man eating Masai. E 'so' that in fact they are always men who cook meat and bring the part due to women at the hut. Others expect that everything is ready, away dgli prying eyes of women (do not ask why '.. after all even they do not know write a custom spiagazione this .. but it' so 'you do!) And when the food and 'ready to dip their hands together in large pot. Single dish for the whole company. To me that day was given a plate of rice and meat. Gave me the seat of honor as a special guest. A large boulder that was usually offered to the old group. But that day, even the old man was transferred to a woman his seat. What an honor. After the meal, the warriors slowly disappeared among the trees of the savanna. A small group made their way to their huts. And everyone came to give a salute to the elderly group and the Mzungu. I felt like a prima donna, but at the same time embarrassed. But it was the feeling that I hoped to try. Was not the usual journey among common people in common places. I was among the Masai. I was among the people who still manages to kill the lion nude.John hands from time to time I watched and smiled. Knew that I was thrilled to be close to the bush. He knew that my eyes from time to time he got up to look he knew I was there for the people and for the Kilimanjaro. Vocii felt in the darkness of the African night. We heard the sound of silenzio.Gli animals, even the most 'small, seemed to animate the most of the nightlife. One could see small outbreaks. All with a kerosene lantern. Hut full of vita.Vite to tell! Found ourselves with other warriors in front of a hut. No electricity. The torch was inside the backpack. For John was better without. And then there was light on us. Were the bulbs Kilimanjaro. Millions of stars so as to illuminate the entire village. The moon rising. I greet 'em departures in its heyday. And the stars that night were sparite.La moon was now lamp Kilimanjaro. I must return. You can not 'not rtornare in paradise. Donatella