With no experience and a lot of enthusiasm, Chris Criminale decided to climb Mount Kilimanjaro in Africa to raise funds to build a school in Ethiopia. Having lost his mother to cancer, naming the  school after Nirvana Azzopardi, who also died of cancer, resonated. He tells of his experience

 

Our journey did not start in Tanzania, Africa but here in Malta.  One day, back in April of last year, I was browsing after a particularly hard day at work and happened upon a post about Kilimanjaro Challenge. The article was about previous expeditions, the projects it had helped fund raise in Ethiopia, Kenya and Brazil and how an eighth team was being put together for a new project, this time a Kindergarten school in Gambella, Ethipioa to be named in honour of the recently passed, Nirvana Azzopardi.

This came at a time when I felt that life was a bit lacking. I was in a bit of a rut so to speak. I decided there and then to get in touch with Keith Marshall, organiser and head honcho of Kilimanjaro Challenge. We chatted online for a while and set a date to go round his place to get a full briefing.

One would expect that, at this point, Keith would try to paint a pretty picture and try to cajole any prospective participants into joining. That he did not. In fact, quite the opposite occurred. What he did do is scare the living daylights out of us by firstly explaining the ordeal of climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro and the difficulties that lie in front of us and how, even if fully fit and prepared, there is every chance we could still fail.

He informed us about the costs to book the trip and the gear we would need, considering that we would begin in tropical weather and end up in arctic temperatures by the time we reached the summit. And finally, he hammered home the topic of the fundraising for the charity and the responsibility that lay on our shoulders should we choose to accept the challenge.

Admittedly, I had a few second thoughts at this stage but decided to carry on and, at least, meet some of my potential team mates, as Kilimanjaro Challenge 8, or KC8, had been formed months before. So, I went on my first trek, a meet and greet if you will. This happened to be a four and a half hour walk, simply putting one foot in front of the other. I considered myself to be a fairly fit person and a spot of walking would be easy. All I will say is that for the next two days following this trek, I was sore from head to toe.

I am going to skip forward and tell you that the next eight months were a whirlwind of training, members leaving the group and others joining, organising fundraising events, attending and helping out with others’ and team events, bonding with my team mates and generally preparing for the trip ahead. By December of last year, we were all ready to go and, more importantly, we had reached our target of €65,000 to build the Nirvana Azzopardi Kindergarten. On December 27th, the KC8 team departed from Malta on what was going to be the journey of our lives.

After one day travelling and another day at Marangu Hotel in Tanzania where we received a full briefing from the directors and were allowed some time to get to grips with our new and unfamiliar surroundings, it was time to start the climb. Now, if I perhaps was not clear before, here it is: What lie ahead of us was a mountain, literally a mountain, Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest point in Africa, the highest free standing mountain on Earth, standing proud at 5,895 metres. Let me put that into perspective for you; Dingli Cliffs, the highest point in Malta comes in at a not-so-staggering 253 metres. Enough said.

There we were, at Machame Gate, 18 proud, intrepid Maltese men and women, all in high spirits, all smiles and quips, all of us deep in thought, pondering the journey ahead. Once we had registered and had a quick bite to eat, we were raring to go…. And then, it started to rain.

We were, of course, prepared for this and had been forewarned of and guaranteed precipitation and nothing was going to dampen our spirits now. We quickly donned our rain gear and we were off, up a steep and steady incline, in the rain forest surrounding a goliath. Upwards and forward we went, chatting and joking amongst ourselves as we went and after a couple of hours, the rain dissipated and we were only too happy to shed the extra layers of waterproof clothes off of us considering the climate was also very warm. Lo and behold, not an hour went by when the downpour returned, this time heavier and angrier than before. By the time we reached our first overnight campsite, albeit with the best waterproof gear one could buy, we were all soaked through and covered in mud.

We were all shown to our tents, these little two-man homes where we would be residing for the next 8 days.  Personally, this was one of the most trying ordeals on the mountain. Living out of a duffel bag, keeping the mud and dirt out, cleansing yourself with the smallest rations of water and wet wipes, preparing sleeping quarters for the night ahead and readying gear for the next day and simply living in such a confined amount of space. 

One more item which hit hard, the cold. After our trek on Day 2, which I have to say was, for lack of better words, fun. Just enjoyable walking, climbing and very importantly, not so much rain. We arrived at our next camp and this is when the temperature dropped. All of us were simply unprepared for this sudden change of weather. I recall, with an amused smile on my face now, the entire team huddled closely together in the mess tent, shivering uncontrollably, chugging down tea and soup just to try and keep warm … we failed. Following our very quick goodnights, interrupted only by the sound of chattering teeth, we all retired to the solace of our sleeping quarters.

 

Days 3 through 6 were very much of the same but as we climbed higher and higher, we became more accustomed to our surroundings and our living conditions. I do feel I am selling this part short as I can honestly say, as a team, we were getting close. The jokes, the anecdotes, the ordeals, the difficulties, the toilet situations, the friendships being formed and the memories forged.

Following our trek on Day 6, we had made it to Barafu Camp at approximately 4pm. We had lunch and were sent to our tents to prepare for Summit Night and to get some rest considering that this last push to the top of the mountain would start at midnight. I didn’t rest.

We all met up at the preordained time, all of us virtually unrecognisable armed from top to bottom in our summit gear. But for a gracious full moon, the night was dark and each of us could not see past the beam of light from our head torches which rested on the person directly in front of you. And so we climbed and for the first couple of hours I was feeling pumped, my tired legs were willing me on. By the third hour my tired legs had changed their minds and were now simply tired legs and my whole body followed suit. We were walking beyond slowly, barely six inches per step but each step was a challenge as we had now reached altitudes that left us consistently breathless. After each hour, we stopped for a break but this did not help. The cold was nearly unbearable and each time we rested, we were hit immediately by frigid winds and simply staying stationery for a few minutes, taking off your gloves so you can rehydrate and have a quick bite of chocolate, was an unpleasant and freezing ordeal.

But we kept going. All 18 of us, each member of Kilimanjaro Challenge 8, all of us together, one team. At about 7:30am we all made it together to Stella Point, approximately 100 metres in altitude away from our final destination. Now, I consider myself a person that does not show emotions, always bottling up my feelings but when we reached this target, everything just came gushing out. I was laughing, crying, hugging and congratulating each and every one of my brothers and sisters (they cannot be classified as solely friends anymore) and screaming at the top of my voice, ‘We Made It!’ But we hadn’t quite made it yet.

A few minutes later, we all had to pick ourselves up once more and continue onwards and upwards. We were told previously that once you get to Stella Point, the next bit is easy. It is not. Dragging our feet in the snow, barely a few inches at a time, it took another hour to get to the actual summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro, Uhuru Peak, standing at 5,895 metres. Having gushed like a 5 year old girl that just lost her favourite doll at Stella Point, I thought that getting to this final stage would be anti-climactic … oh, how wrong I was. When I finally put that one last foot forward and reached the top of the mountain, it was the happiest, proudest, most wonderful feeling I have ever felt. I would put it into words but I do not think that is possible. And this is not a feeling that was just mine but one I could share with 17 men and women, my compadres, my partners in crime, my family, KC8.

KC8 Team in alphabetical order -Lara Barbuto , Karl Bartolo, StefaniaBuhagiar, Austin Cachia, Annalisa Cauchi, Brian Cremona, Chris Criminale, Keith Debattista, AlishiaDimech, Daniel Farrugia, Samantha Galea, Natasha Livori, Justine Mangion, Juan EllulPirotta, GraziellaSant, Nikita Taliana, Owen Vassallo and MartheseZerafa.

 

Donations can still be sent to tel: 5150 2084 (€5), 5160 2028 (€10), 5180 2095 (€25) SMS 5061 7389 (€2.33) 50618062 (€4.66)