Berkley Center

The scenery of Kilimanjaro creates the atmosphere of otherworldliness that is rarely outside of magazines and movies. The shifting ecosystems flow between the rocks and over hills that seem to have no end in sight, especially for the aching feet of those, like myself, that have to conquer them to achieve the ultimate goal: reaching Uhuru Peak, 19,340 ft above the Tanzanian soil. During the seven day journey, it is very easy to be overwhelmed by the environment that never ceases in surprising the hiker and seeks to enlighten the traveler to the beauty of nature and her unmistakable force. Mount Kilimanjaro demands respect, not because of its awesome height or magnificence, but because of the significance of the mountain to the entirety of the nation and to its people.

Kilimanjaro, and the tourism that surrounds the mountain, anchors the economy of not one, but several cities in the vicinity of the mountain and the national park that encircles it. When entering the city of Moshi, the town closest to the various routes up Kilimanjaro, the dependence upon tourists and the money they bring from abroad become apparent. The poor call for US dollars from every conceivable corner, often sporting discarded t-shirts from championships of a forgotten era. The storefronts call to future hikers to buy their equipment or their special herbs that guarantee summiting the impressive mountain. The bus terminal is rife with young Tanzanian men looking for the newest tour group to secure a job in an otherwise economically desolate town.

Unlike Arusha, a city also dependent on European and American tourists and the business they promote, Moshi seems stagnant, caught in a limbo that refuses progress but fosters profit and moneymaking. Signs for new tour outfits, promising luxury in the wild, spring up overnight, and come down just as quickly. Outside hotels aimed at people climbing Kilimanjaro, poverty is rampant. Children scrounging for food in the gutter are positioned next to the wealthiest hotel in the area. After seeing the child outside the guarded gate of our hotel, I asked him where his parents were, with the boy quipping back, “Where you just were—the mountains." Kilimanjaro dominates the physical, social, and economic landscape of Moshi and surrounding cities, providing a glimpse at the unstable infrastructure of Tanzania’s economy at the foot of Africa’s most stable landmark.

The mountain itself provides no relief from the economic throes that Tanzania faces in a globalized economy. When arriving at the Machame Gate, the starting point of our seven day hike, hoards of young Tanzanian men congregate outside the park’s entrance, hoping that today would be the day that they are chosen as a porter for a crew. Others sell Tanzanian, American, and British flags. These porters carry 25 kilograms everyday, for seven days, up a mountain in order to have a stable job and a way to provide for their families in the off-season.

But these salaries do not provide the proper equipment or clothing to weather the harsh and variable Kilimanjaro climate. The crew of porters can be seen in some of the most random t-shirts, ranging from a 1996 NFC Championship shirt, to a Ramones concert shirt, to an “I Bleed Hoya Blue” shirt (my contribution). Although humorous and oddly comforting and homey, these shirts show the dependence that these men have on the tourists that pass through these companies. It is a sobering fact that these men, largely uneducated, live and die by the mountain, and those who dare climb up it. Few regulations for the care of porters are carried out by the Tanzanian government, leaving hundreds of citizens at the mercy of tourists from far away lands and their pocketbooks. However, on Kilimanjaro, these economic woes do not seem to impact the joy that the men have for their mountain, their offices, as they call it. Kilimanjaro is an escape from the realities of the faltering Tanzanian economy, an oasis that soothes the wounds of Tanzanians, while fueling the problems that encompass the impoverished country.

Climbing and summiting Kilimanjaro was that hardest physical and mental test that I have and probably will ever do. The beauty and power of nature resounds throughout the landscapes of the deceptively serene mountain, enticing people from afar to witness the awesomeness of Kilimanjaro. Physically, the uniqueness of the Tanzanian vista spans from rain forests to the driest desert. Economically however, Tanzania seems content in its status as a single commodity economy, even though tourism is arguably the most volatile commodity. But the question remains: what happens if no one wants to come anymore? What happens if Kilimanjaro loses its aura of mystery and adventure, halting the flow of tourists that support towns like Moshi and Arusha?