For my first Kilimanjaro climb I was supported by a guide named Mohamed. He was soft spoken, when he spoke at all, but walked with confidence. He had an air about him that just made me trust him, feel safe in his care.
This become critical on my final push for the summit. By 17,000 feet I was suffering from pretty severe altitude sickness. I began to slur my words, my legs felt sluggish and my body simply wouldn’t respond to my commands. As I got more and more dizzy my balance began to falter and I fell.
Before I realized what had happened Mohamed was almost on top of me, pulling me to my feet with his powerful arms.
I took a deep breath, cleared my head and continued on. After a few minutes I felt dizzy again and slumped to the ground. Again Mohamed was on me, this time rubbing my legs to get the circulation back into them. He had realized my legs were shaking from the cold and hypothermia could become a problem.
He pulled me to my feet again and once more we continued on. As we marched up the trail my altitude sickness got worse and I fell again. Every time Mohamed’s powerful arms were there, wrapped around me and pulling me to my feet. Each time he offered me encouragement and support to go on, to go further than I thought I could.
In the end, I had to turn back at 18,000 feet and abandon my dream to reach the top of Kilimanjaro. However, Mohamed’s constant strength and support stuck with me long after I’d left the mountain.
Almost 3 years later I decided to go back and try once more. Mohamed was there with me again, helping and supporting me all the way to the top. It wasn’t much easier the second time. But with Mohamed’s help and support I made it. I reached the top of the African continent and the culmination of my dream. Thank you Mohamed, and thank you Tanzania.
By: Daniel DorrMohamed, the Strength of a Mountain, 4.0 out of 5 based on 1 rating