Metaphorically speaking, climbing a mountain may be used in context to describe the process of conquering a challenging goal, or enduring a difficult situation. This metaphor is relevant, due to the extreme conditions one encounters in approaching a grandiose mountain in nature, and facing the natural elements, fueled by endurance to climb its rocks, hike its sides, blaze trails through its growth, and reach its peak. Once on top of the mountain, the vantage point affords mental clarity and a broad vision to see the “big picture.”
Today I climbed a mountain; literally and figuratively speaking.
For some time now, Mr. Ndubane and I have bonded together through a series of day excursions outside of the village. From frequent trips to Champayne (a village about 50 km away) to collect baby chicks for his business once a month, to running errands, and even Kruger National Park, our friendship has flourished. We speak openly and endlessly about any topic. We are carefree, act silly, laugh, tell jokes, and all in all enjoy life. Our time together is filled with fun and laughter.
During a recent trip to a neighboring village, we passed the mountains that reside behind Nduksi’s house. The sun was setting, and a cascade of overflowing hues of orange, yellow, and pink lit up the dusk sky. I commented on the beautiful landscape, and made a passing comment about my desire to hike the mountainside and take photos of the horizon. Nduksi surprisingly responded, “Really? That is my favorite special place to be.”
It turns out, a few years back Nduksi was desolate and out of work. He was slowly withering away and deteriorating. He set on a journey to his mountain, which lied just 2 km in the distance beyond his front yard (he is the last home built to the East of his village: Agincourt). He was determined to climb and gain a different perspective on his life. Upon creating his own way through the vastly undiscovered bush, he crawled through holes, knocked down branches, and pulled his way up steep inclines to finally reach the top. He found exactly what he was looking for in a small special hole, where he shared his concerns with the rocks that engulfed him, and prayed for hours. He fought the biting desire of hunger as he was fasting, and he maintained his focus on prayer until sunset, when he made his descent down the mountain. He told me, “There are some things that you can tell the rocks that you cannot tell a man. The rocks; they listen.” Within weeks, he became employed at Hlanganani Primary School, where he has ambitiously worked for the past three years.
Last week, I visited Mr. Ndubane to greet his family and see his newly added businesses. He is extremely driven, and is an motivated entrepreneur. We frequently speak about the people’s needs in the village, and his desire to acquire new trades and businesses to satisfy the community’s needs. He is a visionary leader and a self starter. In addition to selling chickens (he currently has 550 chickens which will be fully mature a week before Christmas), he will be selling wooden poles for building houses, and has arranged a well organized display in his front yard attract customers. While at his home, enjoying the company of his three daughters, we gazed into the sunset and had a similar conversation about the mountains, as we had many times earlier. We went for a walk into the distance to get a closer glimpse of the mountains. Given the time of the day, we decided we would leave our adventure for another day. We agreed upon Wednesday. The day was set and the rest was history. Fast forward to the present…
When Mr. Ndubane greeted me in the middle of the road, I was glistening with sweat, and my back was drenched where my heavy backpack rested. I had been walking the entire morning (making an early morning trip to and from the post office from my house, which is about 4.5 km total), then I walked from the Taxi rank in Nduksi’s village Agincourt to the halfway point to his house (another 2 km). I lost interest in the warm water in my Nalgene bottle, and my throat was parched. Already my legs were heavy, and the prospect of mountain climbing concerned me. I didn’t share these thoughts with my excited friend who was eager to embark on our journey and packed a few refreshments in flimsy plastic bags, while I entertained small talk with his family. Within a few brief moments we departed for our final destination. Unable to catch my breath, dry off my saturated shirt, or restore all moisture to my dehydrated mouth, we began to walk eastward, mountain bound.
From Nduksi’s house, the mountains looked near, perhaps only a few hundred meters off. However, once we started our trek along narrow walking paths (used for cattle herding into the bush for grazing during the day) through the valley (lowveld) I quickly realized how far 2 km would be before we reached the base of the mighty mountain. The first few hundred km raced by as we encountered one fruit bearing tree after another. First we stumbled across a maquaqua tree, which grows predominantly in the arid bush. This seasonal fruit sports a protective outer shell which can be cracked with a stone, or better yet, another maquaqua. Given that the season for this fruit ended a month ago, few were edible, as most had rotted. We set our sights on the tree’s top branches, and successfully knocked a yellowish green fruit from the above with an airborne stone. The flavorful meat found sparingly on each seed provided soothing refreshment to my thirst. My mouth foamed for more. We pressed on.
Only a few meters further and we came across a bush berry tree. We hastily plucked one after another of these sour grape shaped berries and popped them into our mouths, outer skin and all. I quickly learned that if you leave the berry in your mouth for more than a few moments, it quickly turns bitter. The art of eating this fruit involves biting, sucking, and spitting the pits outs within five seconds to fill your mouth with a sweet and sour flavor. Snatching a few for the road, we continued.
Only a few meters further and we came across a bush berry tree. We hastily plucked one after another of these sour grape shaped berries and popped them into our mouths, outer skin and all. I quickly learned that if you leave the berry in your mouth for more than a few moments, it quickly turns bitter. The art of eating this fruit involves biting, sucking, and spitting the pits outs within five seconds to fill your mouth with a sweet and sour flavor. Snatching a few for the road, we continued.
Nduksi shared stories of his cattle herding days, where he respectfully earned the distinguished head boy position in a group of several adolescent boys. His keen sense of direction, ability to detect poisonous plants, and edible fruits, vegetables, and roots, not to mention his fearlessness of snakes, were all ideal prerequisites for the job. He proudly led the cattle daily through the bush in search of water and open fields for grazing. He shared stories of times of drought, plants that he would eat, and his fond memories of spending countless hours roaming the bush.
As we reached the base of the mountain, it finally dawned on me that the mountain was not groomed for visitors. In fact, few have even ventured up to this point, due to the large concentration of poisonous snakes in the bush where we stood, and in the thick brush and undergrowth that lied ahead of us, up the mountain. Nduksi personally had seen two black Mambas on the mountain before. As I looked up, I could see no path. The mountain was covered with an intensely matted carpet of shrubs, tangled vines, poisonous plants, gnarled trees, and any other imaginable growth. I was having second thoughts. Still, we pressed on.
The harsh, unforgiving nature of the mountain was revealed when we stumbled across the perfect remains of a cow that perished in the absence of water during the dry season. The entire skeleton was lined up in precise order meticulously cleaned of every single fiber of existence. The sight was sobering. We pressed on.
It was now well after midday and we had been welcomed by an intense heat during the hottest part of the day. The sun seared our skin. It was difficult to take breaths into your lungs in the stifling heat. My clothing was saturated with sweat, my bag was sodden, and my eyes burned.
Maintaining a steady pace, we ascended higher at a brisk pace. We were more than three hours into our expedition. Nduks bent branches with his hands, pointed out thorny bushes, poisonous plants, thistles, and other hazardous undergrowth. I was consumed by a closterphobic feeling, as I was swallowed up by green shrubbery well beyond my hips on both sides. No matter what plants Nduks pointed to, at times it was hard to avoid, and I grabbed a handful of a poisonous plant that caused me to scream, holler, and curse loudly to the heavens. The burning, stinging sensations soon subsided and we pressed onwards.
By the midway point, I was exasperated. The view was simply stunning, but I could not appreciate its beauty as I had folded over, with my hands resting on my knees, and sweat pouring off my face onto a thick collection of plants below. Perched on a rock above, Nduks asked if we should take a break. In my mind, I begged for a break, only the lump in my throat, did not allow me to articulate the words aloud. We continued. After only 20 more meters, we stopped. I doubled over in pain, handing my backpack to Silence, who up to this point had lived up to his name. He hadn’t uttered more than a dozen words since we set out a few hours before. I buried my head in my hands. I gagged and dry heaved a few times. My mouth was filled with a spoiled flavor of the maquaqua which I had eaten at the base of the mountain. I gagged again. My belly ached. My vision blurred as I looked out onto the horizon and the few hundred meters we had already traveled. Nduksi instinctively poured a glass of water to rehydrate my body. The ice water revitalized my esophagus, providing life and moisture to my throat, and bringing me back to my senses. Color returned to my face. As the head boy, Nduks sensed it was time to make our way down. I obediently agreed, and we began our descent. Less than one hundred meters lied ahead, till we made it to the top. I contemplated the prospect of failure in my mind. I had not conquered the mountain, it in turn, was defeating me.
After ten minutes we decided to setup camp. Silence began to prepare our food, opening the cans with a knife and mixing the ingredients his plastic carrying bag. Nduks and I ventured off to snap a few photographs of the lush landscapes in the distance. Sharing a few laughs and crazy poses, we returned. Hands reached in for pieces of bread which were just as quickly dunked into the spaghetti, bean, and mayonnaise mixture. Each mushy bite revived me. I felt energy surging through me. We sat in the bushy overgrowth in the shade. It was significantly cooler, and we were welcomed by a soothing breeze. The sweat on my brow finally evaporated. In between mouthfuls of food, and a new lease on the journey that the rejuvenating food provided, we discussed pressing onwards, and returning towards the peak. Unanimously we agreed to climb, providing that we leave our foodstuff and gear behind. We continued.Backtracking was easy, because we recalled places to step, grip, hold, and clutch and areas to avoid. We finally made it to the point where I rested nearly forty-five minutes earlier. Looking up, I noticed that the climb above would be the most technically challenging activity of the afternoon. The steep incline rose at a steady 87 or 88 degree angle. I lost my footing on a lose rock, and nearly plummeted hundreds of meters below. Still we pressed on in single line format, scaling the rock faces and trampling on undergrowth as we trekked on.
Less than thirty minutes elapsed, (most of which we spent talking about the Mamba that Nduks stumbled across in the precise spot we had passed on the way), when Nduks interrupted himself and exclaimed, “We have arrived!” Initially I wasn’t impressed by the view. I surveyed the scenery, and had somehow expected more. When I turned my head back towards the mountain, I realized that Nduks was gone. He had ascended a few steps further. I followed. It was there, on the collection of boulders on the mountain peak that I was humbled by one of the most beautiful views of my life. I was leveled by the painted canvas of colors blended across the horizon. Deep shades of blue and green filled a collage of natural scenery. I was so grateful to be alive and witness such raw beauty.
A few steps further and we reached Nduksi’s secret spot. A gash within two boulders provided a concave hollow area where he quickly crawled. Once inside, a look of serenity overcame Nduksi’s face. He was at ease in his praying place.
Locating a few flat boulders with a skyward face area the size of a king sized mattress, we laid down and looked upwards. My eyes scanned the panorama vista of mountains, valleys, bush, and distant villages. We soaked in the drafty, gentle wind rustling the leaves and creating a song that interrupted the peaceful silence. The hour that we lied motionless dozing in and out of daydreams stretched on for what seemed like days.By five o’clock we began our downward decline, although I was feeling higher than ever. My energy mounted, as a rush of adrenaline filled my bloodstream and goose bumps fluttered across my skin.
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