“I will be ready to go as soon as I put my cold feet into my wet sock, then into my wet shoes.” For those whose minds are overreading the ‘wet,’ oh yeah, at one point we had to either put off our boots to go through a dry flooding river or brave our inexpensive boots to go through it.
A tale of dogs turned guides, 7-inch-tall grass, a drone (winks), a pool of water, a man who shifted (snatched) his woman from a different close, bitter huge oranges, an extemporaneous politician, and a HORN.
Did you know that humans were always outdoorsy? We evolved with the scent of the trees and the blossoms, the clean air, and the sunshine upon our skin. Perhaps it should be an idyll we make an effort to regain.
It was a long and never-to-be-forgotten trip of our lifetime because the money will not spend itself. We were caught up in a rush hour to catch up with the ferry, and this made the party bus go silent (for the first time). They claim they had no refill, so they didn’t want to waste it.
This was the largest tourist event to ever happen in Moyo; we were told it was a big deal for everyone involved, and I am still happy we were part of the process of exposing more remote parts of the country to tourism. Unfortunately, we got caught up in some local politics and a clash of cultures.
People have dreams, and I want to believe this particular weekend was to fulfill someone’s dream. A dear friend of mine one time hoped to plan a hiking event, but he said, “I will give you an experience you will never forget; I do not want people to forget me.”
For fear of being forgotten, one Acholi and his wonderful team made us forget that we were in an abusive marriage with our government and the effects of covid-19. Despite everyone being time conscious, we still left late, and that’s how we ended up playing catch-up with the ferry at the Laropi landing site.
Upon reaching the camping grounds, we received a VIP welcome cultural dance to an unbothered crowd. As people were conquering land titles, there was a scuffle over a pool of water and latrines under construction. As for me, I always enjoy my bush showers; however, this time I had a tent veranda shower.
At the crack of the next morning, the sun peeked out from behind the surrounding hills, and we could see the first rays of the sun grace the earth. Before our eyes, the clouds became lit with a fabulous, warm light as the rising sun announced the coming of the new (suffering) day.
The greens of the grass rose to so many high notes of color as any good classical piece will do. The grass moved as a heaven-weaved quilt of the earth, as if by root and stem it stood in protection of us. This grass made me realize that I’m not as tall as I considered myself to be; it was shadowing our sight and hindering swift movement.
Our boots met the rocky path as if eager to morse-code their way as the perfect angels gave me soothing sounds for my ears. Cheers to you, my choir that sounded overwhelmingly beautiful (at that time). We need to test your cords again.
If you do not feel important amongst your people, just try and travel to Moyo; you will find yourself in a clash to be owned by locals. As soon as locals received reports of tourists flocking to climb Mount Otce, the locals from two sub-counties didn’t take it lightly.
The entitled Otce community threatened to frustrate the tourists if they did not honor their plea to camp in Otce sub-county. While the locals in Dufile Sub-county were working tooth and nail to impress the tourists.
As the trail came to an end, the local police hijacked us to what we can describe as a community day. We ended up attending a political party, speech day, and an exhibition of crafts (the best part), and me being me, of course, I participated in the cultural dance that I did not pay attention to my tired limbs. Most of my group members sat in disbelief, agony, anger, fury, and viperous and inhospitable, while I was having a time of my life dancing to unknown songs; now here I am having new followers from the Madi region.
The most memorable part of the night was the party in the wild: neon lights, face painting, glowing wrist bands, glowing birthday cake, the DJ that enslaved us on the dancefloor,
One gentleman couldn’t handle what God had blessed him with and escaped to his tent to watch something (we hope and pray that he didn’t get any muscle pains). Then some pretended to wait for sunrise on the dance floor, yet they were timing someone’s happiness.
As if the DJ got this memo: Be my air, be my sweetness, be my tumble into giddy darkness—be the sort that brings the most ridiculous joy. Let’s melt into this party, melt into the best, and sweat until our hearts call for the luxury of bed and the chaos of our entwined dreams.
The mountain has absorbed the essence of my soul and returns it so purified.
