iNeed

I've probably said this before, because it's true: this (=living/working here) is the most selfish thing I've done in recent human history.

As a person I accept and admit it, but I've come to thinking lately whether “we” as a group are self-centered. It's hard to tell if it's me only, or I hang out with people who are similar to me in this regard, but sometimes I notice that I use this life, one I chose, and the conditions of it, as an excuse to make it all about myself.

As if living here - and the more time I spend here the more I know it's actually quite nice, as far as peacekeeping missions and humanitarian life go – would justify wanting all the fancy comfortable things my superficial self probably always would want. I need to go on holidays, I need to stay in a nice hotel with a pool, I need a drink (or five), I need to party it out, I need to be by myself, I need to get laid, I need to eat sushi, I need a massage, I need to binge-watch ER, I need to be in pyjamas all day.

But do I, really?

Clearly, most of the above are rather cases of “want” than they really are of “need”. Of course everybody would want that. And in all fairness, I would not pretend I don't want them in the other life either, I would get what I can, and I would say, if ever questioned (mainly by my own not-so-superficial self): “because I can”.

But the difference is, here I don't have to justify. I dramatically say “I need a pool, a book, and two days of not talking to anybody”, and it's okay. Some may ask how long it's been since my last holidays, or if it's been busy at work, but no further explanation is required.

And I'm not talking about traumatising experiences I need to recover from. I'm probably the only person who never ever leaves the office, and if I don't read or listen to the news, I can be perfectly ignorant in my little bubble of work-home-party-recover-repeat routine. This may as well be a post-war conflict zone, but I can reduce my troubles to “we're out of tonic” and “which part of 'please follow the attached instructions' did you not understand”. Yes, my hair is mess, even more so in the dry season, and I haven't been able to wear contact lenses for the past three days, but if I think about those objectively, I know they are annoyances but not major stress factors.

On the other hand, I've lived in a very safe, comfortable, rich, middle-class posh environment, where hair was healthy and electricity was permanent and yet, I have seen a little too many burnouts. Although I'm working on overcoming it, I think I still live by the rule that until I cry every day, or feel the urge to, it's not stress. It may be a little too much work and not enough sleep, but oh it's not stress. It's just life.

It would have sounded ridiculous and would have resulted in a few frowns in the other life if I pulled a dramatic “I need to get out of here” just as I do nowadays. Why would you need a break from your perfectly channeled routine life? Why would you acknowledge that sometimes your work gets on your nerves or simply exhausts you and all you need is a pool, a book, and two days of not talking to anybody? (Oh wait, have I said this before?) Why would you admit that something is missing, and especially, why would you admit that you're trying to substitute it with the closest thing available?

In that regard, it's actually not that bad to put ourselves first so often. It's a different way and level of awareness of our own needs, just as the awareness and sense of risk and danger is different here. You need to know when you need to get out, and I've always tried to train(? convince?) the people I work with to pay attention to when that point comes, because nobody is going to tell them they look like they need a break (I sometimes greet people with a friendly “you look awful”, but that's just my caring personality). At least, between the volcano and the lake, you are permanently monitoring your own needs. And voicing them.

On that note, I'm gonna get some cheese nans. I love my cheese nans.  

Mohamed and the mountain

So I came down the mountain, right? Dirty and with blisters and all that jazz. But that means that I first went up the mountain! I yet have to understand why... probably to find out whether I am a closet mountain person. Well, I am certainly not. Even though I love watching them (mountains, in general. Occasionally mountain people too.), there is admiration and some weird longing in there, wanting to be there, but then when I'm there, I constantly expect the Spirit of the Mountain to come tell me that they know I don't belong there, and I can try this hiking routine as much as I please, but let's set the record straight, I will always be an outsider.

Nevertheless, this is my first time over 4000 meters, so this is where you say yay! I didn't throw up, I wasn't too dizzy, and I only wanted to cry once, out of sheer frustration.

The Mountain is by the way called Karisimbi, which in the local language (kinyarwanda) means little white shell, apparently because it often has a white cap. The internet tells me the cap isn't necessarily of snow, but often hail or other frozen things. I had the honour of encountering those, and I was not particularly thrilled.

Those of you who have already noticed that I have been linking half of Wikipedia here probably ave already read up on climate, flora and fauna. For the others I can tell that I had not seen a proper jungle before. But now. Picture will follow to show that it is indeed thick and green and lush with a whole bunch of plants or trees or, well, vegetation that is entirely unknown to me. Any time I stopped to catch my breath or to have a slice of cold pizza, I was looking around in awe, thinking wow. The first day of the hike is rather friendly, there are not too many very steep parts so there is time and space for looking around. The famous mountain gorillas also live in the neighbourhood but they didn't come around when we were on the path. I think they usually do though, we have experienced some gorilla poo (some visually, some in a more tactile way).

The second day on the other hand (overnight camp is at 3600) is a lot less user-friendly in the difficulty department. But the forest goes completely wild and my idea of a jungle is now forever changed. I had to stop a lot more to breath, and I spent most of those breaks staring at my surroundings.

Unfortunately we had a lovely and loyal cloud following us all the way. First it just added to the mystical feeling of it all, but at some point it started bothering me that here I am up at 4000 and can't see the neighbouring mountains or anything in general, while everybody was telling me how gorgeous the view is. Oh, and it gets quite humide inside a cloud.

The higher you go the less vegetation you see, but the wind gets stronger, and that, together with the humide cloud quickly decreases the comfort level of the naiv hiker. Me. And they also increase their disappointment level – there came a point when even I had to accept that this cloud is not going anywhere and the most I'm going to see is the volcanic ash/dust under my feet. That made me a tad bit cranky, my face was freezing, 4500 was approaching, meaning the air was getting thinner but tthe cloud was getting thicker. I think I mentioned a few times that I really don't give a damn about what's up there, I'm sure it's not any different from what I already can't see where I am, but the evil wind is certainly stronger, I've had it. By then I'd been through all kinds of plants and mud up to my ankles at times; I was neither particularly patient nor ver nice.

At the end of course I kicked myself up there, the last push was when those coming down told me there is a hut where I can warm up for a few minutes. And to take pictures like the below, for documentation purposes.

(I also have a summit-selfie taken in the hut, but I keep it for the moments of doubt when I need to remind myself just how I felt there. It's not a recommended sight for the weak at heart anyway.)

Then at the border I met half the town and got dragged back to daily life and my flatmate ony called my Robocop for two days.

Birds flying high

So we came down the mountain, me, my dirty little body and my thirteen blisters, and all I wanted was a shower, but immediately, and then there was a whole bunch of people at the border (it was Sunday of a long weekend, everybody was heading home), and half of them started saying hello and being impressed that I actually have a face and not only an email address, and then there was a girl who had troubles with her visa/ID and would have needed my help and didn't quite notice that I was off duty, and my boss didn't answer his phone, and so I was not much of a help for the girl, five minutes before border closing, when I didn't even have my house keys with me, and of course the line on the congolese side was slower than a dead snail, but at least they didn't bother me with the usual „which country is this passport from” type of questions, and I had a bit of a headache and my knees hurt quite a bit and my face was burning from the wind, but.

But there and then it suddenly felt good. That yep, this is the way it usually is, and yeah, I probably look like garbage, but I will soon have a shower and will look better tomorrow (although I will move like a rusty robot), and it's absolutely normal in this life that on the Sunday of the long weekend we stand in line on the border, and on Monday we will discuss who did what, like we used to in the dorm, where „are you going home this weekend” would replace most sorts of hello.

And then I have two new colleagues (yeiiii), and other new faces, and at times I get questions I actually know the answer to, and in general, in a sneaky and unnoticed way the moment came, when there are things that I know better, or at least I've been trying to understand longer. I've asked many people many times, and nobody could really tell me, when do they stop feeling like complete aliens; now I think I maybe understand why. Because we are always very much aliens, but there are moments of clarity when we, or I, feel that I almost know what I'm doing and why, and for the rest of the time I practice being and alien, and I have actually gained quite some experience in doing so.

And then there is the dry season, so it may or may not rain once a week for a bit, and then suddenly colours and lights and smells just get out of control and shout in your face „life! Air! Nature!” and then Kata beholds that it is very good.

(I'll tell you about the mountain later. It deserves its own post.)