FRANÇAIS

Promise land:

Author: Gerry Annand

Student, French

In July, 2007 I went to Tunisia to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.  The ascent was physically challenging due to the increasing cold and decreasing levels of oxygen the higher we went each day.  After five days of steady climbing, I was elated to find myself standing on the "roof of Africa" just as the sun was rising with breath-taking splendor over the plains of the Serengeti.  I will never forget that moment.  I had devoted a great deal of time, money and energy over the past several months making preparations and following a disciplined training regime.  Finally I had reached my goal: ‘my promise land’ for the moment.  Getting there, however, required the assistance of the local Africans – three guides and twenty-four porters, a veritable army to care for just six Canadian trekkers!  We were treated like royalty.  The porters carried everything: 20 kg each balanced on their heads most of the time – our gear, tons of fresh food (no such thing as freeze-dried here), even a table and patio chairs!  And they did everything – set up camp each evening, prepared all the meals which were served on the table bedecked with a table cloth and candles.  They even brought us hot water to wash up with before each meal.  But everything was done with a seemingly ingrained attitude of abasement, as if it was completely normal and right for Africans to serve ‘the whites’.  Our guides would not even eat with us.  This display of servitude troubled me greatly.  I had prepared myself for the physical challenges I would meet on the mountain but not for the psychological ones.  I detested feeling like I was a pampered British colonial.  (I much preferred the Canadian style of backpacking where guides and their clients are on the same level socially.)  Our guides did talk with us, however.  They especially liked to question us about Canada – their image of the promise land where one can enter the world of modernity,  a life of ease, comfort and incredible luxury.  We found it everywhere we went – this desire to come to Canada.  Even, Kenneth, our safari guide, who had an opportunity to advance in Nairobi’s tourism industry, asked if we could help him come to Canada.  At the same time, he was very proud of his Maasai roots and had chosen to live part of the time back at his native village where the traditional way of life has not changed for hundreds of years.  For a treat, he took us to visit a typical Maasai village.  I was astonished to find that they still lived in mud huts, without electricity or furniture. These dwellings enclosed their herds of cattle, around which their lives turned.  Black flies were everywhere.  Even so, one could easily perceive the strong ties of community and sense of belonging.  I remarked to Kenneth that he would risk losing this intangible treasure if he moved to Canada.  "I’ll take that risk," he shrugged.  His desire for the golden life was obvious.  He wanted to possess the promise land, whatever the cost....to taste the milk and honey.

Maassai women singing a welcome song for us