Mount Kilimanjaro is 19,341 Feet

Peaks and Valleys

Mount Kilimanjaro is the highest single free-standing mountain in the world. The dormant volcano juts out of the African plateau from the bushland of northern Tanzania.

My duty serving post-genocide Rwanda was finishing. I was shattered and exhausted. Our WFP work fed thousands in desperate need. It was time to leave Rwanda. My role of a psychologist and funeral director was ending.

Rwanda suffered a total genocide. Directing the clearance of corpses out of a well to acquire our water supply was not easy. Fifty hungry kids assaulting you while carrying a box of high protein biscuits taught a lesson. Sadness wept while watching zebra gazing in grass fields amidst dead bodies at a national park. An artillery shot turned up short while loading a truck. A stop by CNN roadside interview shined out to the world.

Goodbye, Rwanda

There were unusual occasions like providing Harry Belafonte and his wife drinking water; obtaining beer for the Order of Malta doctors; and enjoying a sit-down candlelight dinner with chinaware and silverware in a jungle house with a Rwanda general.

I said goodbye to my colleagues and drove to Kigali airport in early evening. Since I ran airport operations, I knew the sergeant commanding US military aircraft movements. Sarah came from the southern USA. The shattered Kigali airport only operated humanitarian and military cargo. No passenger flights flew.

Sarah with her sweet southern accent told me, I think I can get a “bird” for you tonight but lamented:

‍sorry Douglas, I don’t know where to. It could be Frankfort, Nairobi, Entebbe or Addis Ababa.‍

I told her OK, so I napped on an empty cot in the main terminal. My bag was my pillow. She said she would wake me if anything interesting flew in.

I slept. Sarah woke me up after midnight. A bird just arrived from Addis Abba flying to Mombasa. She asked me if that was OK. I had no choice and agreed.

She told me that she needed to talk to the pilot to get his OK to travel on the C-141, a large Air Force cargo plane. She returned and informed me the pilot agreed.

I walked on the tarmac. The loadmaster greeted me. They just discharged cargo. He welcomed me to the empty plane. He closed up the rear ramp.

He gave me a safety briefing showing exits and fire procedures. I buckled into the side bench. That was it.

Flight Without Fanfare

No ticket. No boarding cards. No lounge. No stewardess. No menu. No champagne. No peanuts. No movies.

The plane took off like a bat out of hell. The four turbojets powered us beyond ground-to-air missiles. I jolted back from the climb.

The loadmaster was moving about doing his checks in the cavernous cargo bay. I sat alone. It was strange being in a huge plane with no one. The toilet was in the front of the plane on the cargo floor.

The pilot climbed down from the cockpit and said hello to me. He used the bathroom. He exited and exclaimed to me,

‍No one flies alone in my plane. Come with me.‍

I stepped up the ladder to the cockpit behind him. He sat me on seat partition just above the throttles and over his right shoulder. The 180-degree cockpit view stunned me. Early morning sunlight was entering.

We chatted. He was asking me about the UN and conditions in Rwanda. The plane flew on autopilot. We keep talking. I was worried about distracting him.

Asleep at the Wheel

Gradually, I realized the rest of the cockpit crew was sleeping. The co-pilot was snoring. The flight engineer was napping. I suddenly realized these military pilots had been flying over 14 hours. The flight flew from Frankfort to Addis Abba to refuel; then moving to unload humanitarian cargo in Kigali and now we were flying to Mombasa. It was a day-night-day transition. I better continue talking to keep the pilot awake.

He did point out far in the distance Mount Kilimanjaro. It is a navigation waypoint. He showed me on the aeronautical map of two flight airways which intersected our route near Mount Kilimanjaro. Did I become part of the flight crew?

Natural Beauty and Danger

Mount Kilimanjaro majestically rose. It was jutting out from our planet amidst the brown plains. The white capped strato-volcano began to enter the cockpit. It was a crystal-clear African Sunday. Not a cloud in the sky and clear visibility forever. No turbulence shook us. My life transcended from Rwanda darkness to African blue-sky light.

Its snowcapped peak amidst the dry African plateau displayed beauty. I visualized roaming wildlife. I worshipped the view. It was not a time to go back and grab my camera. It was the most amazing geographic feature protruding from the earth’s crust.

Playing Chicken with A Volcano

I was turning a bit nervous. Checking the altimeter, we were cruising at 21,000 feet. The 28 November 1979 Air New Zealand crash with Mount Erebus crash entered my mind. I knew Mount Kilimanjaro was around 19,000 feet or so.

The mountain touched closer. I began to view landscape features on the mountain. Should I say something? What was going on? Do I dare broach our closeness?

Calmly, the pilot turned around with a big smile. He asked me,

‍should I go from 21(000) to 25(000)?

‍I immediately replied,

‍Yes, sir.‍

We continued our magical carpet journey through African fairytale skies. We crossed Mount Kilimanjaro looking down on the three volcanic cones and admiring its majestic might. The day created a moment to appreciate the magnificent beauty and wonders of our planet.