A Economia das coisas

Faz hoje exatamente 2 meses que decidimos que independentemente da decisão do Governo em relação ao fecho das escolas, os nossos filhos não iriam continuar a ir.

Volvidos 61 dias continua a parecer-me a decisão mais acertada. Por isso vejo com apreensão a reabertura das creches e ATL.

Então, a primeira medida a ser implementada não é a última a ser levantada?

Estou-me a imaginar de máscara, luvas, gel desinfetante a deixar as crianças de 2 e 4 anos na escola, enquanto a de 6 tem que ficar confinada em casa. Porque haveria eu de por em risco a saúde de toda a família? Consigo compreender as questões economicistas por trás destas decisões. As famílias precisam de retomar o trabalho e o seu rendimento. Precisam de por a máquina financeira a funcionar.

Mas e então o que acontece às famílias com crianças entre os 6 e os 12 anos? Ficam em casa, pois claro.

E o que estamos a fazer não mover a economia? As compras na peixaria do bairro, no talho da esquina, na livraria que vem trazer os livros de biblioteca, na sr. Maria que faz máscaras para crianças, ou a D. Susana que vende flores e brócolos? Estas pessoas não fazem parte da economia? E todas as mães e pais que ficaram acantonados em casa, e que assim continuarão? Afinal não somos todos cuidadores informais? Somos, mas somos um pauzinho na engrenagem da finança.

Uma vez li um artigo de uma jornalista, que ao ser mãe se viu confrontada com a impossibilidade de trabalhar (nos EUA) e mais tarde com o facto de não ter poder económico para colocar a criança numa creche. Tendo a família decidido que ela seria a fiel depositária da educação da criança e dos cuidados da casa, calculou-se o valor horário do seu trabalho e ela passou a ser remunerada pela família pelas horas dedicadas ao cuidado dos filhos.

Gostaria de saber muito honestamente se nós, mães a tempo inteiro, damos valor ao nosso trabalho? E qual o valor desse trabalho?

Como dizia uma amiga, um destes dias: hoje já ninguém se pergunta o que faz uma mãe a tempo inteiro? Mas a pergunta é: quanto vale a tua hora?

As listas de coisas

As listas sempre me fascinaram, desde miúda.

Faço listas para tudo: compras, aniversários, multas para festas, coisas que faltam para casa… Qualquer pretexto é bom para fazer uma lista. Mas à moda antiga: num papel, nada de listas em aplicações nos telemóveis. O papel e a caneta/ lápis ainda têm aquela magia especial que me remete para outro espaço e tempo. É verdade que as listas me transportam.

O meu filho do meio parece ter a mesma compulsão que eu. Desde que estamos em quarentena faz um rol de pedidos diários. Alguns repetem-se, acho que os quer mesmo, como a máscara de tigre de dentes de sabre ou o ovo Kinder especial com não sei o quê lá dentro, mais o escorrega que transforma meninos em animais diferentes… E eu vou escrevendo tudo.

Um jogo engraçado que costumava brincar com a Dri era: “se te casares convidas-me?” E eu fazia a lista mental de todas as pessoas que convidaria para o meu casamento, na distante eventualidade de tal acontecer. E assim nos divertíamos a selar amizades com listas.

Enquanto lia “um homem de partes”, de David Lodge, em que se retrata a vida de H. G. Wells, o “maior escritor do seu tempo”, vi que H. G. Wells era obcecado por Obituários, queria saber o que diriam dele depois de morto. Este facto remeteu-me para uma lista que nunca acabava (que fazia sozinha) sobre: “se eu morresse quem iria ao meu funeral”.

Para a Dri o importante era saber quem estaria presente em vida, mas eu tal como o H.G. sempre me interessei mais por quem está lá quando nós não. Quem virá, sem precisar de ser visto. O que dirão de nós, quando já não podemos escutar.

Com a epidemia as listas continuam a acumular-se: número de pessoas infectadas, pessoas internadas, pessoas em estado crítico, número de mortes. Estas listas parecem-me intermináveis e pela primeira vez na vida, completamente desnecessárias. O esforço de achatamento da curva de repente tornou-se chato.

Prefiro continuar a fazer as listas do meu filho, com o seu papa-formigas e o fato especial com bico azul de pato que faz coisas assim. Essas sim, são especiais e fazem-me sentir que tenho um fiel seguidor.

Semana 3

Cumprimos a terceira semana de isolamento, 17 dias de estado de emergência, renovado por mais 2 semanas.
Sabe-se lá quando isto acabará.
Noutro dia um comentador-sabetudo-nãosabenada, dizia que o governo tem que nos dar respostas em relação ao fim da pandemia. Penso que muitas pessoas pensarão assim, que temos que saber quando tudo vai acabar, mas na verdade não sabemos. Ninguém sabe...
Por muito que queiramos passar a Páscoa com a minha mãe e as minhas irmãs, na verdade não sabemos quando poderemos voltar a beijar-nos. Já lá vão 4 semanas.
As crianças continuam em regime de home-schooling, não sei qual a eficácia deste método, mas pelos nossos lados será quase nula.
É aborrecido a mãe ser mãe, ser educadora, ser empregada de limpeza, ser polícia, ser tudo sem chegar a ser nada. Estranhos tempos estes.

O que mais ouvimos nos últimos dias é: achatemos a curva, achatemos a curva, achatemos a curva, até à exaustão.
Mesmo assim, há quem não tenha entendido as recomendações e o significado de um estado de emergência.
A pergunta que todos queremos ver respondida não tem reposta: quando vamos estar bem?
Como vamos sair disto tudo? Será que seremos iguais ao que fomos?
Quando saio de casa, para o estritamente necessário como deitar fora o lixo, deparo-me, estupefacta, com o extraordinário número de pessoas que se passeiam na rua. Pessoas que caminham lado a lado, que para para conversar, que se demoram na  mercearia quando há uma fila cá fora à espera.
Será que vamos voltar a caminhar lado a lado nas ruas? Será que vamos voltar a partilhar o assento do metro, ou agarrarmo-nos com força ao casaco do utente do lado quando o autocarro pára inadvertidamente?
Os meus filhos parecem bastante felizes com este acontecimento. Têm a possibilidade de usufruir sem restrições da companhia dos pais, não têm responsabilidades de maior (além de fazer as actividades propostas pelas professoras). São muito novos ainda para sentirem as angústias das separação da família mais próxima, ou pensarem no que lhes reserva o futuro.
Preocupam-se em construir o seu barco feito de paus e telhas, adornado com folhas das árvores. Aí sentem-se seguros e divertidos, o resto são os escombros dos dias.
Vamos passando, colhendo os frutos que semeámos. Literalmente.
Vamos vivendo, à espera que amanhã esteja novamente sol e que estejamos todos bem. Aprendemos a pedir pouco, a esperar pouco.

segunda semana de isolamento

Esta semana, para acrescer às dificuldades que já sentimos e vivemos, foi decretada a fase de mitigação da doença. Significa isto que foi assumido que o contágio se dá a nível comunitário, sem seja possível identificar as cadeias de transmissão.
As restrições aumentam, porque se assume que o vírus está em toda a parte e todos são potencialmente portadores do mesmo.
A partir de agora as saídas de casa devem resumir-se ao estritamente necessário, compras, farmácia, abastecer o carro, mas tudo nas imediações da residência.
Com as crianças as coisas correm relativamente bem, uma vez que temos um jardim grande e eles divertem-se com as suas actividades. A relação mãe/ docente melhorou e conseguimos agora fazer os trabalhos com maior eficácia, mas com diminuído sucesso à medida que a semana passa. É difícil distinguir os dias da semana, pois são todos iguais. Se não fosse as actividades escolares nem sabíamos a quantas andávamos.
Coisas que descobri esta semana:
- que não preciso passar a roupa a ferro.
- que a balança está completamente descalibrada...

Mas em conclusão semanal, os dias vão-se levando. Como se diria na Tanzânia: Pole Pole.

Estado de Emergência

Dia 18 de Março de 2020 e o estado de emergência foi decretado.
E uma situação excepcional, que só ocorreu uma vez durante os anos de democracia. O que nos leva a querer que os nossos direitos sejam suspensos? O medo? o achar que os outros são menos que nós?
O quê?
Sabem o que significa?
Sabem que já não temos os mesmos direitos? Sabem que há países que dissolvem as suas democracias assim?
Sabem que dia 19 é o meu dia de aniversário e o estado de emergência começa nesse dia? que triste forma de celebrar.
O medo reina. As ruas estão vazias, apenas as filas habituais para os talhos, fruta, pão, mercearia e  farmácia.
Acho que já disse que parece um cenário de Mad Max. Será que estaremos prontos para a guerra?
Fico mais ansiosa a pensar no que nos vamos tornar, nós e o nosso mundo, do que a Pandemia em si.
Tenho medo da doença, sim claro. Tenho medo que morram as pessoas de quem gosto. Teqnho medo de ficar doente e deixar os meus filhos sozinhos.
tenho medo de não ter o que dar de comer aos meus filhos. Tenho medo de não ter dinheiro para pagar contas da água e da luz.
Tenho muito medo de como será o futuro. Será que ainda seremos iguais a nós próprios?
Certamente não irei esquecer o meu 43º aniversário.

Semana 1 - 16/03 - 22/03

Esta foi a primeira semana de isolamento social voluntário.
Por agora cessaram todos os contactos com familiares e amigos, mantemo-nos apenas os 5 em feliz cohabitação nesta casa.
Apesar da insistência da minha mãe, para ficarmos todos juntos optei por não o fazer por dois motivos:
1- A minha mãe, maior de 60 anos e hipertensa, é médica e continua a trabalhar. Está muito mais exposta que nós que estamos em teletrabalho a partir de casa. O mesmo com a minha irmã, embora tenha um risco mínimo de exposição, tem um risco maior que nós. Além dos mais , os miúdos são essencialmente vectores de transmissão, pelo que se estiveram em contacto com o vírus nos últimos dias, podem facilmente transmiti-lo, sem terem sintomas relevantes.
2. Temos um jardim. Ponto final. Ficar até fim de Maio (esperemos nós), com 3 crianças menores de 7 anos em casa fechados é um no-go.
E assim é, estamos isolados em casa, saindo apenas para fazer as compras do dia-a-dia e para apanhar algum ar. As crianças não saem de casa.
O João de todocriaçs, parece estar mais impaciente. É o único que pede para sair e para me acompanhar nas idas à pastelaria.
É dificil negar-lhes coisas pequenas: como um bolo de arroz ou um brigadeiro. Na medida do possível saio para satisfazer as suas necessidades, mesmo estes pedidos mais exigentes.
Ter um jardim ajuda muito, nomeadamente na execução de actividades ao ar livre com as crianças.
Antes de nos fecharmos fomos a um viveiro de plantas para nos abastecermos de plantas, para pormos as mãos na terra e daqui a umas semanas podermos colher alguns frutos.
Os miúdos não ficam muito excitados com esta actividade, mas a tenda Teppi e o ginásio do pai an garagem tem feito maravilhas pela sua sanidade mental.
O mais exigente é dar resposta aos requisitos educativos deles. Todos os dias recebo cerca de 5 emails com actividades a realizar, mais uns 3 de correcções. Obviamente alguma coisa tem que ficar para trás, e isso são as actividades dos mais novos.
Cada dia é uma luta para acordar, pequeno-almoço e preparar para os trabalhos de casa. É um esforço considerável conseguir que tudo isto aconteça de manhã, para poder fazer o almoço.
Esta primeira semana foi caótica: almoços às 15:00, jantares às 21:00. Estar em casa não é em definitivo ter tempo para casa, ou para estar com as crianças ou para estar a sós.
Estar em casa, fechada, não é proporcionalmente linear à frequência do curso de latim que o Frederico Loureço disponibilizou, ou para ler aqueles livros como se fosse adolescente ou para ver aquelas séries de quem todos falam.
Também não há tempo para por conversas em dia. Só por telefone. Carrego o telefone pelo menos 2 vezes ao dia.
As saudades crescem e ainda só passaram alguns dias.
Covid-19, faça o favor de passar e andar. Aqui ninguém te quer.

Amor nos tempos do Corona

O título é bastante óbvio e até gasto, diriam muitos de vós, mas não me ocorre melhor para descrever os tempos que vivemos.
Não acredito que seja o amor que nos vá salvar desta catástrofe, mas sim a ciência. Não haverá alinhamento de xakras, ou rezas e mezinhas tradicionais que resolvam o problema. Seria mais fácil acreditar que sim. 

Nunca pensei viver um cenário tão apocalíptico e descabido, não estava preparada. Mesmo com a ameaça das alterações climáticas, com resultados tão devastadores e já aí à porta, sempre fui empurrando com a barriga e pensando que a Humanidade encontraria a sua ordem.

Em meados de Janeiro começámos a ouvir falar do novo Corona Virus, uma epidemia que se alastrava na China e países limítrofes, mas contudo longe daqui. Depois, foi chegando mais próximo e no final de Janeiro começamos a contar os casos na Europa. Agora damos-lhe um nome próprio, porque a sua impostância é merecedora de tal: é o Covid-19. Os números foram-se amontoando, enquanto em Portugal continuavamos à espera, como a nêspera que algo acontecesse.

Entretanto em Itália a epidemia alastra-se e os números e mortos acumulam-se. 

Começamos a reflectir e a perceber que agora a pandemia estava demasiado próxima, e eis que, sem apelo nem agaravo, depois do Carnaval começam a aparacer em grande escala os casos suspeitos em Portugal, quase todos importados de Itália. O medo começa a interiorizar-se e a fazer parte da nossa rotina: será que conheço alguém que tenha ido a Itália? Será que estive nalgum local onde esteve um infectado, será que é seguro as crianças voltarem à escola depois da pausa, quando há tantos alunos que viajaram para países onde há casos confirmados? As perguntas acumulavam-se e sem uma resposta sensata à vista.

Nos dias que antecederam o início das aulas, que ocorreu 09 de Março, começo a receber notificações em catadupa sobre em grupos das redes sociais sobre os primeiros casos de Covid-19 e sobre a razoabilidade de a escola reabrir. Nós optámos por tentar manter uma rotina normal, mas observando a evolução do que se estava a passar. Não obstante a tentativa de manter a normalidade, abandonámos a realização de actividade física em espaços fechados e decidimos que a Catarina não iria à natação. Todas as saídas a cafés seriam as estritamente necessárias, a partir de agora.

Na escola, os número de crianças ausentes aumentava de dia para dia, enquanto aguardávamos expectantes alguma informação sobre a continuidades das aulas. A escola mantinha-se vigilante mas respeitando as decisões da OMS, DGS e da embaixada de França em Portugal. No fundo, ansiavamos que fechasse.

Nas notícias víamos: universidades a fechar (uma a uma), unidades de entretenimento a cancelarem actividades, cinemas a fecharem, enquanto enviávamos calmamento os nossos filhos para a escola. Já não podiamos ignorar que algo se passava, bem perto de nós. O que me parecia mais surreal era que as decisões estavam a ser tomadas unilateralmente, sem concertação, mas todas no mesmo sentido.

Entre nós a ansiedade foi aumentando, comprimindo o meu coração de mãe, até que decidimos que não voltariam à escola no dia seguinte. Isto porque um colega da minha filha tinha estado em Floresça nas férias. Aí senti o pânico a apertar-me o estômago e na Sexta-feira, dia 13/03, iniciámos o isolamento social voluntário, e permanecemos vigilantes em relação ao avanço da doença. Nesse mesmo dia, o Governo declara o Estado de Alerta, preconizando o encerramento de todas as escolas e estabelecimentos de ensino a partir de dia 16/03. Estamos oficialmente preocupados e aterrorizados com o que se ouve de Itália e mais concretamente de Itália.

Começámos aí a fazer planos para o que prevíamos que poderia acontecer, mas não ao ponto de ir a correr comprar papel-higienico. Por isso fiquei chocada quando numa primeira tentativa de comprar papel-higienico online, recebiamos mensagens de que artio estava esgotado. Porquê papel-higiénico? Porque não sabão para lavar as mãos.

As compras online que tinhamos feito a meio da semana, estavam confirmadas (incluindo o belo do papel-higienico e o atum em lata) e iríamos buscá-las na segunda feira, dia 16. Entretanto reforçámos a despensa, um bocadinho mais que o habitual, mas muito menos que uma família normal de 5 pessoas. Somos apologistas de minimizar o desperdício e comprar unicamente o que precisamos, mas atendendo à excepcionalidade do momento comprámos mais carne e peixe, vegetais e pão, considerando que as compras grandes estavam feitas.

Talvez nos achem loucos, mas embora tenhamos decidido fazer isolamento social voluntário, fomos passar um fim-de-semana há muito marcado na Régua.

Deixámos as crianças com a minha mãe e a minha tia e partimos.

O cenário que encontrámos foi desolador. Embora o hotel estivesse ainda bem composto na sexta-feira, não havia gente na rua nem nos restaurantes. Jantámos sozinhos, num restaurante só para nós, mas doía-me o desalento do jovem dono e dos funcionários. Aqui tive um primeiro vislumbre do que poderia estar para vir.

Já no hotel, muita gente a desmarcar e muitas de prevenção implementadas, para dar cobro às instruções da DGS.

Depois de voltarmos, fechamo-nos em casa à espera do pior. Ainda não sabemos o que será, mas sinto um nervoso miudinho em crescendo.

Como será o amanhã? É sempre a pergunta que deixámos para ser respondida no dia seguinte.

Day 6 and 7 (17 and 18/07) - Kili trek

Here we are, at Karanga Camp. One camp away from the summit night. On my side I start feeling a bit anxious, both by not feeling any symptoms of HAS and by not knowing if it’s going to strike me right in the Summit night. the plan is to leave at midnight and arrive at Uhuru Peak by dawn.

It seems impossible we reached this far with no prior physical preparation, not feeling tired and above all without HAS symptoms. So, let’s move onward.

Once again, they woke us up at 6:00AM, and tonight I managed to sleep for a few hours. The routine is always the same: dress up, go to the toilet, and wash myself as good as I can (it’s getting colder and colder), and we pack our bags just in time for breakfast. I am starting to be fed up with breakfast, as I dislike the porridge, it’s became quite monotonous: toasted bread slices with jam and tea. We get our measurements before heading off and everything is good. The heart rate increased a bit (now is 77 BPM) and SO2 95%.

We left the camp at 7:15 AM, later than planned, what doesn’t please Jonas our lead guide at all.

It is a very steep and rocky track: looks like we have landed on the moon. NO leaving creatures around, just rocks and debris probably from an eruption.

I got some small stones on the way, so I can show it to the kids when I get back home. One is a shale flat and mossy stone and the second one is dark shiny black one.

Beside a few porters, we walked most of the time alone, we didn’t see any other tourists. It was so comforting and calming. All that silence.

We arrived Barafu (by the way it means ice in Kiswahili), in 2,5 hours. It was quite fast and as we arrive we realize that most people didn’t leave the camp yet. We are now at 4.600m ASL.

As we walk further inside the camp site, we can see people coming down. It’s overwhelming: most people are overly tired, faces are disfigured because of all the effort, the cold and the altitude. Some people look happy though. SO it’s around 10:00AM and people are still coming down from Uhuru Peak.

After a quick rest for a snack, Jonas mobilizes us for an acclimatization walk (up to 4.920m) and for us to get used to the trek, as we will walk during the night. The trek is extremely steep and the rocks are slippery.

As we go up, hundreds of people come down. We don’t even dare to ask how it was. Some can’t even walk, and they are literally being carried by guides, porters and partners, looking extenuated.

It is a very demanding climb, namely because of all the people crossing us, there is not much safe space left for us to walk on the rocks.

We made it successfully up to 4.920 m and we were coming down when we met the Mexican girls, who is doing it on her own (with no partner), and it felt like we've met an old friend. 

We greeted each other, exchanged points of view and experiences and wished each other best of luck for the following day. Maybe we will meet again sometime.

We got back to the camp site in about 40 minutes and we had a nice rest. In Barafu Camp there is no water, therefore porters need to carry it all the way up from Karanga Camp, that’s why we see porters carrying buckets on their heads all the time, back and forth. It is quite demanding, and we are not allowed to waste any water. All the water is reused: for instance, the water we used to wash ourselves is reused in the toilet.

We are located in a magnificent spot, and we can see Mawenzi peak perfectly.

Paula can see the weather forecast (-2ºC, real feel -1ºC), don’t know how it will be tonight at midnight, as we leave the camp, but by now is cold and misty.

After having our veggie lunch (remember we can not eat meat anymore), is time to check our gear and make tonight’s plans.

I took a walk around the camp looking for a good soul to lend me the phone charging cord, and I met Rudi.

After we are allowed to have a siesta but it is not very comforting as most teams are dismantling the camps, and I can hardly sleep because of all the noise.

 After waking up, I am off again to look for Rudi so I can charge my phone for tonight. On my way I met a family (father and 2 kids), climbing together. I wish I could do it with my kids, but by the time they are old enough to do it there will be no snows or glaciers.

We had a light dinner and went back to bed. It’s 7 PM and I can’t keep my eyes closed, I think it’s anxiety. The tent is also leaning into Paula’s side, and I am constantly sliding towards her and trying not to smash her. She is sleeping like a baby, as always.

Finally, it’s 11 PM, time to rise and shine.

We dress up quickly: 3 layers on the body plus insulated jacket, 2 pairs of socks, 2 pairs of leggings plus the sky pants, 2 pairs of gloves, balaclava, warm hat... I feel like a snow man, overly dressed.

Jonas made the decision yesterday that him and Isaac would carry our backpacks, to make it easier for us.

We leave the camp a bit later than expected (00:18) but we get a beautiful view of the people going up the mountain. It looks like thousands of stars are dancing around, as it’s pitch black up there, you can only see the light from the head lamps. I think it is one of strongest feeling I got from this journey, thousands of fireflies dancing around my eyes.

We walk slowly among many others tourists. As we’re not carrying our backpacks we walk slightly faster than others, plus Jonas is possessed by some kind of inner force, and wants to overtake everyone else. We need to remind him that we just want to arrive to Uhuru peak, we don’t need to be the first to do it.

Some groups are really slow, mainly because people have different paces and determine the group’s pace, also some people feel sick already and make their groups slowing down or even come to a complete stop. Some groups are very large, and have as many as 20 people. Being just the 2 of us is a huge advantage. This should be a selection item, as the bigger the group, the smaller the success rate.

So pole pole we overtake several large groups, but it’s an outstanding work, as we need to forge our way in between the rocks. We get tired quickly.

My feet are completely frozen; there is no way they are getting warmer. Hands and body is warm by now, but it’s so cold and I can’t breathe through my balaclava. It gets wet and my nose is dripping so badly, and I don’t have where to clean it anymore. I take the balaclava of and it’s too cold, I put it back and can’t breathe. I look to Paula and I see ice crystals around the place where her mouth is. It’s so interesting.

We stop from time to time to get our strength back and to warm up with some hot tea. Going to the toilet is now harder, as it’s freezing cold and there are hundreds of people everywhere. Jonas dislikes the fact that we want to stop so often, but we need to pull ourselves together.

It’s getting colder, and although I have already opened my jacket and removed one pair of gloves, my feet don’t get any warmer. Suddenly we realize something wrong going on with Jonas. He is trembling, his legs are shaking and he can’t walk straight. Despite our concern, he stands that he he’s fine. We can clearly see that the backpack is far too heavy and it’s causing him pain and feeling unease. Finally, we managed to stop for a hot tea and re-distribute the weight. At this point the wind is so cold, that I need to put my second pair of gloves on and I close my jacket again. Paula is feeling more comfortable than me, but the cold is disturbing me a lot.

Jonas is getting worse and worse, and regardless our suggestions to stop or to exchange backpacks, they keep on moving.

We are now at Stela Point, it’s still pitch black and it’s crazy cold here. As you turn the mountain, the cold wind strikes me and almost throws me on the ground. It doesn’t help being so light and short, it’s been a huge advantage so far, but now I am felling very very uncomfortable. There is no way I can warm my hands and feet up. According with Jonas, we still have 45 minutes to go to reach Uhuru Peak. I am feeling sleepy and frozen, so I ask Isaac to hold my poles, and I put my hands inside my pocket. It gets better, but I need to keep one hand hanging downs to reactivate the blood stream. I wonder if this is normal, or I am a bit hypothermic, and Isaac just says it’s normal…

These last 45 minutes seem to last forever. It’s pure torture to me. I made it easily up to here to find that I can actually give up due to the cold. My face is frozen, I can feel the wind through my insulated jacket… but I keep on going. Finally, we see Uhuru Peak and the glaciers and it’s astoundingly beautiful. I almost cry when I see the sun rising and Uhuru peak in behind. So, I just keep on going. I feel so peaceful now and sure I will make it, that I almost don’t feel cold anymore.

After a while, we join the dozens of people standing around Uhuru peak, trying to get the perfect shot. I can’t believe we made it!

You will stand there 5 min maximum, it’s so cold that you don’t want to stand there. You just take your perfect shot and leave straight to Barafu camp. That’s all you get after 6h walk!

Jonas tells us that it’s -10ºC, I have never been in such a low temperature before in my life. Another record set.

As we start coming back, the sun is rising and it’s warmer than before. Even so, I can’t remove my gloves. We stop here and there to make some pictures and record the moment. Don’t really want to miss it. It was so special.

I can barely believe that I’ve actually made it to Uhuru Peak. After all the sad stories Ia heard, seeing those people coming down yesterday, I never really rely on myself and deep down inside I’ve always thought that this was going to be one of the greatest adventures, even if I didn’t reach the summit. I kept in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t make it, and in the end I did. Maybe it was the absence of expectations that keep me going, knowing that if I didn’t make it, it would be ok as well.

Coming down is a lot easier and warmer. You start to peel out your clothes and can barely stand the heat, thus it is still cold walking under the sun and getting the heat from the stones just keeps you warm.

If I’d known I would have put on leggings so I could remove my insulated pants.

One of the things that shocked me the most was the number of people coming down by alternative paths. People step everywhere, liter wherever, and it has a tremendous environmental impact. I could not stop thinking about that, and even now that I am far from the scene I keep on thinking if I made the right decision when I decided to climb Kili.

It never crossed my mind that this would have such an enormous footprint.                 

On the way down you see people been carried out, people taking oxygen, people waiting to be recued by helicopter. Don’t think it’s a piece of cake, is one of the toughest experiences in your life. For me, coming down was very hard because of the heat, the dust (my god there is so much dust in the air, and last but not the least, I needed to urge to the toilet, and that was hours away.

Anyway, we came down to Barafu (another 4 h walk) and we arrived around 10:30 AM. Honestly, I just wanted to sleep, I was so tired that I barely could keep my eyes opened. They didn’t let us sleep, because we need to come downs as quick as possible to Mweka camp.

We had a light meal and we longed so much for a bath that we decided to come all the way down to Mweka gate, and skip another night in the mountain.

That was the most stupid decision to make. It’s a very long walk, too long in fact. The path is very winding and lots of steps. My legs were so trembling and tired that I couldn’t walk straight. Plus, we had to rush nearly the end because our crew forgot to tell us that we needed to get out of the Park until 6PM at 5:30. This in fact was the most difficult thing I have ever done. Not the 6 days walking plus the night, this endeavor was the craziest of my life, we walked 27 km, for 18 hours in a row. Not easy my friends.

After, I couldn’t step into the car to get us to Arusha… I won’t even mention the following days.

Anyway, it was worth it, every minute and every penny!

Day 5 of 8 (16th July 2010), Kili Trek

Believe it or not, dawn is rising again. It’s 5:45 AM, and we hear the bell ringing and again I didn’t sleep much. My mouth was so dry so I drank lots of water that I had to go to the toilet in the middle of the night (around 00:40), and this is when I fell thankful for having that little tent with a toilet inside. Actually, the toilet is just a seat with 2 deposits: one with clean water and a second one where the waste water is stoked. I can’t stop feeling sorry for Arnold who needs to clean and carry the toilet from camp to camp. Don’t think that he's carrying it behind us while we walk, outside the camps you’re free to choose your own pee-spot.

Getting back to the sleepless nights, I now start getting used to it and apparently, it doesn’t affect my performance. I am feeling good, no symptoms of altitude sickness, I feel physically fit (I mean I hardly get tired or short of breath), and my signals are OK.

The dawn it’s very very cold, I can fell the wind striking through my bones. This morning I put my gloves on to keep our hands warm and a wool beanie, but Jonas doesn’t let us overdress thus when you walk you start warming up and then you need to peel off lots of stuff and carry it.

We have our breakfast at 6:15 and at 6:45 we are ready to leave the Barranco camp. I am still looking at the that big wall and feel a bit uncomfortable about climbing it. As we usually say: quem não arrisca, não petisca (kind of: no guts, no glory). Barranco is a scarp 300 high, around 9 story building: it’s rather impressive to look at it. If others made it before we can do it as well.

Today we leave our trekking poles behind, as Jonas clearly explained we will do mostly “Goat Climbing” and we won’t need them for the Barranco itself.

We were the second group to leave the camp, we were very happy and proud of ourselves. The trekking isn’t that hard, as you walk with your hands and feet on the floor. It’s tiresome e and physically demanding in the sense that you need to support your weight in the hands when you pull yourself and legs when you need to propel. One advice: look where you put your hands!! There is lots of spit and sputum everywhere, it’s disgusting.

We keep on climbing until we reach the “Kissing Stone”. I kissed her good, but I found she is too cold for me, so I just kept on going. Up to this point has been 20 minutes walk, we still have another 40 minutes to go to reach the top of Barranco.

Reaching the top is overwhelming. The view is so beautiful, we are above the clouds and it looks like an endless cotton candy cloth. Here you can have a sparkle of what infinity means.

We stopped for a few minutes for a rest and to admire the scenario, and then we left. Lots of people are now arriving and it’s getting crowded.

From Barranco we descend into a valley and there is a brutal change in the landscape once again: semi-Alpine desert. Some trees here and there, with some spots of lichens, meaning that we still have a good air quality. Unfortunately, going down means we will go high again.

Once again, Jonas picks the garbage other groups left. It’s a noble attitude.

In some places we cross water streams that are still frozen, this is how cold it is today, regardless of the sun.

After 3:40h we reached Karanga Camp and, once again, we were the firsts to arrive to the camp site, according to camp’s records. Perfect timing for a “shower”: wash hands, armpits and feet, and change underwear and socks. That’s all we get, and we are thankful for that.

In this Camp there is plenty of signal, so I can call home and talk with kids and husband.

After some rest, we had a wonder lunch: Celery soup, chicken with fries, sauteed vegetables, lots of different fruit (watermelon, oranges and tangerine) to supply us the required nutrients for us to keep fit for the trek.

Beatus, the cook, makes wonders with the scarce resources available in the mountain and Jonas is very careful when it comes to choose the ingredients and nutrients for our daily meals.

After lunch we can finally have some rest, read some pages of my book and had a nice nap. They never let us sleep too long, as they want us to have a nice rest during the night. I have been having problems to sleep during the nights: the mattress and the cold make it very difficult to find a good position to sleep.

The afternoons are endless…most of the times we arrive early to the camps, after the trek, and we have lots of free time. Just don’t forget to bring your book, your sketch book, whatever keeps you busy.

We gave a nice walk through the camp site expecting to find some familiar faces. Here and there we get to meet some nice people, from all over the globe. It’s incredible how these camps look like a Babel.

By misfortune, my phone cord doesn’t work anymore, what makes go around the camp looking for people who are willing to share their charging cord with a perfect stranger. Luckily enough our neighbors (a father and daughter from Australia traveling together since Rwanda), are willing to lend me their cord, if I allow the girl to use our toilet. Seems a fair trade to me. After some easy talk, we agreed to stick together so they can use our toilet and I can charge my phone. It’s a nice symbiosis.

Today Jonas gave us a small stone, very dark from volcanic origin as a gift and souvenir. I am going to label it so I don’t forget my Kilimanjaro experience.

Dinner was vegetable stew, rice and green peas. Seems like we can’t have meet any longer, as after a certain height our body doesn’t tolerate it anymore.

Our heart rate and SO2 are very good and no symptoms of HAS. I am amazed. Having listened to all the experiences of friends I was expecting to feel some kind of unconformable, like headache or bellyache, but I am feeling surprisingly good.

And here we are, ready for some rest again.

day 4/8, Kili trek

It's already wake up time again. It's 6 AM, and as usual they bring us some hot water to wash ourselves. I won’t lie, but my hair is so dirty and greasy that I can’t remove my beanie anymore. At least my feet aren’t that smelly, but by now I am already missing a good bath. Although I almost didn’t sleep, I know I did it as I dreamed. Can't remember anymore.

I need to share with you that the best thing we did was renting our own private toilet. It’s so much more comfortable and hygienic, and I would pay every cent again. I see that the tourist who didn’t rent one don’t use the public toilets, that are shared by hundreds of people, rather they go behind the bushes. Now, this is something you will quickly learn: people don’t respect the Park rules, and you can find toilet paper everywhere. That's not the worse part of it, as toilet paper is biodegradable: you can find old batteries, toiletry items, tea bags, cigarette butts (which aren’t allowed in the park at all), juice pack's, and so on and so forth. All this trash isn't left behind by the crews, but by the tourists themselves and it’s starting to disturb me lot. To see to which extent our presence damages the Park and how big our environmental footprint is, is making me think if i did a good choice by coming here.

Regardless of that, Jonas our leading guide, picks litter from the ground every day. By the end of everyday trek he arrives at the camps with a handful of waste. So let me ask you dear tourist: would you litter in your own country? Can you please behave as if you were in the US or any where else? I know you can do better than this.

 Now that i have pointed it out, it’s time to get back to my diary. 

The dawn isn’t as cold as yesterday, but I can feel the cold getting into my bones. I am wearing a long sleeve shirt, a light fleece and a jacket, and my hands were cold. I had very good socks (my friends take my advice and buy good socks so that your feet don't freeze, burn or hurt your feet), my friend Tiziana amazing boots, so my feet were comfortable all the way through the 8 days.

Unfortunately, we always leave the camp later than planned, and our guide it's starting to be upset with us. He likes to leave early, to walk slowly and arrive early, so we can have proper rest. Our heart rate and SO2 are still quite good.

Today is a very long day: we will do an acclimatization walk for 4 to 5h up to Lava tower (4.600m ASL), and then descend for 2 to 3 h to Barranco Camp at 3.900m ASL. It's one of the longest days, where we will walk approximately 10 km, for 6 to 8 hours. Long, hard day, in an Alpine Desert landscape.

It's exiting to see how the landscape changes, it looks like we've landed on the moon, and it’s full of volcanic rocks and debris. Here and there you will find some proofs that we are in fact in an habitable planet.

 Hundreds of porters cross our way, and as we get a bit closer to Lava Tower, people from Machame route join us. Now we are now a much bigger group than the one coming from Lemosho, number of tourists and porters is impressive. As Lemosho is one of the longest trails, therefore more expensive most people just choose between Machame and Marangu routes. 

There we are ate Lava Tower, and I have a headache that comes and goes, specially when I bend. It can be a mix between altitude sickness, hunger and sleepless nights.

I forgot to mention that both me and Paula we are taking the Diamox, as recommended by both doctors and most of our friends. I didn’t feel much of the effects, except for the tangling in the fingers, which i felt throughout the whole journey. In fact I also recommend you to take it, and don’t forget to start a few days ahead you get in the mountain.

Getting back to Lava Tower. The place is in fact impressive: it’s a huge rock that stands alone in a small plateau. The place is amazing. What i also find astonishing is the amount of people gathered in this small space. All people coming from Machame, Lemosho and Shira routes come together in this point. From now on we will be a lot of people. According to Jonas, last year 50.000 tourists visited the park. knowing that each tourist has in average 4 crew members, this means that in total around 250.000 people climbed the mountain.

The effects of the over-crowded is obvious: lots of garbage everywhere, lots of people walking everywhere (meaning outside the trails), lots of open air toilets... don't imagine just the solid wast, imagine as well the smell you are able to feel.. This is outrageous, and as you pass by Senecio forest you can understand the dimension of the impact. There is not much left of the so called "forest" and lots of the trees are dying, because tourists are overtaking the territory by stepping and depleting the soil, because people want to take some souvenirs home and take parts of the trees, because and because and because. Please, bear in mind this is an unique ecosystem: you won't find it anywhere else. That's why it's a World Heritage Site.

While we pass by Senecio Forest, we cross several stream, the water is freezing by the way, and we have Kibu Point on our left hand side. The weather is cold, and gets colder everyday. 

We finally arrive to Barranco Camp, after 6:02h of trekking, longest trail so far.

After registration and taking the usual photos, we head to our camp site. The weather here isn't as bad as in Shira I but it's very very cloudy, thus you can not warm up at any moment. 

1. 

This is one of the dirtiest camps we been so far. Lots of food leftovers (bones and horrible stuff), tea bags, juice packs, batteries... just pick something, you will find it here.

To enable me to have some rest I decide to have some ipobrufen, and I get much better. 

We walk around the camp, as usual, trying to find some signal. After several trials i can finally reach out to my family and talk to the kids, and i am so much happier.
You don't know how lonely you can feel in the mountain. It can be either bad or good, as you have the chance not to think in anything else, or you can think about everything thus you have lots of free time.
The days are always the same and time goes by so slowly... we had diner at 6:30. It used to be my afternoon tea break time, look at me now. We had some soup with lentil balls, past and minced meet and veggies.
we had our briefing for the next day as we were about to cross the daunting Barranco Wall. as we get some explanation i start to get really anxious and scared. I hear lots of heights and danger and crawling, and start wandering why i decided to do this in first place. I didn't remember anyone mentioning that Barranco wall was that scary and dangerous. Why could that be.
Jonas wants us to be the firsts to leave the camp to avoid getting jammed... You see, lots of technicalities that i wasn't expecting at all.
We explained Jonas that Barranco (written with 2 R) is a Portuguese word, that means exactly ravine, so the word wall is a bit redundant here.
Before getting to sleep we packed our stuff and had some reading. after a short while we shut down the light. this is the end of day 4.

Kili trek: day 3/8

We follow the same routine everyday: wake up at 6:00 AM, wash yourself, get dressed, pack your bag, head for breakfast (where we had again some porridge, which we couldn’t eat), have a morning briefing, measure your heart rate (67bpm) and SO2 (95%), and leave.

When we woke up this morning everything was frozen, literally frozen: the ground, our tent, it was very very cold. Everything was covered in a white crystal cloth, and we are not even close to the summit.

We took a last glance at Kibu point before leaving, and that gave us the strength to keep on going and face the new day ahead. Although it was a very cold morning, it was splendid. The sky was clear and blue, we were above the clouds and we could see mount Meru above the clouds. As it was so early in the morning, we could still see the moon and some stars bordering Kibu point.

Today we walked from Shira 1 camp to Shira 2 camp, towards Shira Cathedral, through the Shira Plateau. We crossed the small water stream that borders the camp, which barely had any water, and started our course leaving the camp behind. Most trekkers head straight to Shira 2, but Jonas planned an acclimatization walk, meaning we will walk higher (3.872 m), then walk down, and them climb go higher again to Shira II (3.850m ASL). The next 3 days we will have small increase in altitude (from 3.610m in Shira I Camp to 3.900 in Barranco Camp), but will climb higher during the day to have a better acclimatization. While in Shira Plateau we will find Mount Kibu on our felt hand side, for most of the trek. It's beautiful, although you can see there is not much snow left.

The Shira plateau is one of the highest plateaus on Earth, and it is beautiful, it is a combination if moorland and grassland. The Plateau is actually a caldera from what was the smallest of the 3 volcanoes (4.005m) on Kilimanjaro, that collapsed. As we walk, we are stepping on the lava of the last eruption of this extinct volcano and we can see the remaining rims of the caldera.

We were lucky enough to see a Dick Dick, but that was all. Jonas explained us that before we could find herds of elephants, buffaloes, but due to the increasingly human presence in the area they were chased away.

We were walking for a while when we started to see trees and bushes that were ripped off. Jonas explained that these were maintenance works, to keep the road passable for tourists, but it seemed like was being done randomly, without any supervision or planning. Men were working to widen the trek, but we couldn’t find any reason to do so. It’s a small path, that is not taken by many people and it should be left as it is in order to ensure the renovation of the ecosystems. We asked a few of them what were they doing and they didn’t know. It was heartbreaking to see how the mountain is being devastated and ripped off for no reason.

here and there we stop for picture, rest and for fun, as you can see...

We started climbing, and it was steep, till we get to the base of the cathedral. We took a short break for snacks and toilet. Up to now we were alone, but a big group joined us to climb to Shira Cathedral. The place was busy now, and they were much faster than us. As you can see, i didn't take of my light fleece of, plus the base layer and a Tshirt.

For this particular trail the trekking poles were of no use, so Isaac kindly carried ours so we could use our hands and find the balance to climb the rocks till we made it to the top (3.872m ASL). The sight is beautiful, we can clearly see Mount Meru, and the landscape is shaped by big monoliths covered in green. It’s completely different from what we saw until now. After taking the pictures that testify we made it, we started descending, and headed Shira 2 camp.

Here the landscape changes again, is drier with many rocks and fewer greenery and it is warmer than before. We kept Pole Pole, the trail is very rough and after the heliport, I was feeling so hungry and tired due to hungry that I had to ask Jonas to stop.

Sometimes, is hard to deal with the Guides, because they want to stick to their plans and routines, and we have different needs. We had a rest and I ate a snack close to some caves (that worked as toilet and it was disgusting), thus I was feeling stronger we got back on track.

We keep on climbing, and after 6:02h of walking, we arrived to Shira 2 camp where as usual, we made our registration and headed to our campsite for lunch. 

We are in between Mount Meru and Kibu point, and this is one of the most beautiful and scenic camps of all. We can see mount Meru with its cloth made of clouds, and Kibu point with its snows. It’s astounding.

Beatus prepared us a beautiful lunch: chicken with sweet and sour sauce, chips and avocado salad. For dessert we had an ultra-sweet pineapple, that gave us enough sugar to compensate our tiredness. After lunch it’s nap time, and I use it the best I can. I slept until 4PM. We walked around the camp, trying to find a signal spot to call home and to see the sight. We watched a beautiful sunset over Mount Meru and we went for lunch at 6:30 PM. We had a delicious pumpkin soup with croutons, for main we had a meet and vegetable goulash with sautéed potatoes and for desert pineapple again. I can’t recommend enough Beatus and Jonas, they kept us very well fed and were able to keep the diversity. Many others just have potatoes for all the trek. They couldn’t stop surprising me with the quality and diversity of the food.

Jonas came to render us some company, to explain us tomorrow’s trek and measure heart rate (77bpm) and SO2 (93%). Still OK, but we can see it’s slowly changing.

At around 7 PM we went to our tent and try to have some rest. Whereas Paula falls asleep in 3 minutes, I have to role from one side to the other and wait for the tiredness to come. I continue to struggle with sleep. The nights are getting colder and it also contributes to worse resting nights.