MOSHI, TANZANIA
My name is Siwema Hamisi Kilyenyi. I am a young woman who is visually impaired. For a long time, I dreamed of participating in tourism, but the high costs always seemed like an insurmountable barrier given my financial situation. That changed when I heard about an opportunity from Action for Persons with Disability (APD), an organization dedicated to helping people with disabilities experience tourism.
On August 24th, I received an invitation to apply for a sponsored trip. I filled out the form, treating it almost like a joke, not truly believing it would lead to anything. To my surprise, my application was accepted. My first trip was to Ngorongoro Crater on October 23rd. Soon after, another offer came: a chance to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. Again, I applied, and by God’s grace, I was chosen.
I prepared myself mentally for the challenge, ready to face whatever obstacles lay ahead.
The Expedition Begins
On December 2nd, our group gathered in Dar es Salaam and boarded a bus bound for the Kilimanjaro region. This expedition was a special part of the nation’s 63rd Independence Day celebrations, bringing together a diverse group of individuals from government institutions, private organizations, renowned artists, and esteemed ambassadors.
Before we began, we received a detailed briefing about the climb, including the potential for altitude sickness and other challenges. I listened intently, absorbing everything to prepare my mind. On the third day, we were given our official gear and special backpacks. On December 4th, government officials held a farewell ceremony for all 250 of us at Marangu Gate, and at around 1:00 PM, our journey began.
Day 1: Trial by Rain and Roots
I was thrilled, dressed in my climbing gear, with my own personal guide by my side. But just thirty minutes into the trek, the heavens opened. A heavy downpour began, lasting for nearly two hours as we hiked through the dense forest. Fear crept in. I worried about my health, as I often get sick after being soaked by rain. I wondered if I would even be strong enough to wake up the next day.
But then I looked around. Despite the rain, every single person was pushing forward, determined. Their spirit gave me a surge of strength and courage. The trail was a web of massive tree roots, which slowed me down but also forced me to be more careful and focused with every step. We finally reached the first stop, Mandara Hut, at 7:00 PM. I was exhausted but incredibly proud to have made it.
Day 2 & 3: Finding a Rhythm to Horombo
The next morning, after a medical check-up, we set off for Horombo Hut. The fatigue from the previous day had vanished. We soon left the forest behind, entering an open moorland of grass and shrubs. The path was clearer, without the tangled roots, and I found the walk much easier. The main challenge here was the rocky terrain and streams of water, but I saw it all as part of the adventure.
The journey was filled with stories and laughter. Whenever I felt tired, I remembered my goal: to reach the summit. That thought alone refuelled my determination. We reached Horombo Hut around 3:00 PM. The service was excellent; we were welcomed with hot tea before dinner. The doctors checked our vitals again, and I was relieved to hear that my heart rate and oxygen levels were much better than they had been at Mandara. My body was adapting.
We spent the next day acclimatizing. We didn’t climb higher but took a four-kilometre hike to Zebra Rocks, a stunning rock formation resembling a zebra’s stripes. It was a beautiful sight and helped prepare our bodies for the lower oxygen levels ahead.
Day 4: The Final Push to Kibo
The fourth day was the trek to Kibo Hut, the final base camp before the summit. We were warned that this is where many climbers give up. The landscape transformed into an alpine desert—a vast, empty expanse of sand and rock with no vegetation. The trek was long and gruelling. You could see the huts in the distance for hours, but they never seemed to get any closer.
Fatigue was immense, and breathing became difficult as the oxygen thinned. I saw some people turn back. But then I saw my fellow climbers with disabilities pressing on, their spirits unbroken. If they could do it, so could I. We arrived at Kibo Hut in the evening, exhausted. We were served a quick meal and told to rest from 6:00 PM until 11:00 PM, when the final ascent would begin. Sleep didn’t come easily. My mind was racing, wondering what secrets the summit push held. Why did we have to climb through the night?
Summit Night: The Longest Walk
At 11:00 PM, we were woken up. We bundled ourselves in our heaviest gear, switched on our headlamps, and began the final ascent into the darkness. We moved at an incredibly slow pace. At first, I was bewildered, thinking, “At this speed, when will we ever reach the top?”
I soon understood why. The climb was steep, following a zigzag path up the scree slope. Despite the slow pace, my body screamed with exhaustion. Nausea washed over me, and every step was a struggle. I had to ask my guide to stop and rest every five minutes. The moment I sat down, sleep would instantly overcome me, and I’d start to dream. My guide was patient but firm. “We can’t stop for long,” he’d say. “It’s dangerous. Your body will get too cold, and you won’t be able to continue.”
I prayed silently, asking God for the strength to keep going.
Uhuru Peak: The Roof of Africa
As dawn began to break, I could see the majestic glaciers sparkling in the first light. It was breathtaking. We navigated a section of large boulders where some climbers were practically crawling. My guide skilfully led me through, and we made it. I thought we had reached the top, but he told me to rest for a moment while he sorted out chains for our boots to grip the ice. The person carrying them was far behind.
Thinking quickly, my guide improvised, wrapping extra socks around my boots for traction. “We have to keep moving,” he urged. “Just forty more minutes.” That forty minutes felt like an hour, but we reached Stella Point. “Just twenty-five more minutes,” he promised. That felt like another hour and a half.
And then, finally, we were there. I had reached Uhuru Peak.
I stood at the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, the very place where the flag of a newly independent Tanganyika was first raised in 1961. I was overwhelmed with a mix of exhaustion and pure joy. I looked at the vast crater and the endless sea of ice. We are only allowed 15 minutes at the summit due to the harsh, unforgiving weather. A fine, frozen mist, like an icy rain, filled the air. We took our photos and began our descent.
A Triumphant Return and a New Beginning
The journey down was fast but painful on the toes. We descended from the summit all the way past Kibo to Horombo Hut in a single day. The next morning, we completed the final stretch back to Marangu Gate.
A huge crowd was waiting for us, including the climbers who hadn’t made it to the summit. We were received by government officials with songs and celebration. I looked at the cheering crowd and realized I was now one of them—one of the heroes who had brought pride to Tanzania. We were awarded medals at a grand ceremony.
Reflecting on the journey, on the moments of doubt and pain, I returned a changed person. I came back alive and strong, without needing any medication. Through this climb, I have gained a new name, new friends, and new connections.
I share this story not to boast, but to inspire. If I could do it, so can you. I want to encourage you to visit the wonders of our country Kilimanjaro, Ngorongoro, Serengeti.
Thank you.