KILIMANJARO SAVED MY LIFE
“Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.”
-Gary Snyder
Not a lot of people discuss what it’s like after you attempt suicide. The road to recovery is quite a bit like the coquihalla highway; oftentimes treacherous, nerve racking, ever bending, but breathtakingly beautiful. It’s not so much that I’ve arrived at a destination, but that I've arrived at enjoying the journey.
I remember sitting in my outpatient Day Program trying to control my own trigger responses to one of my fellow participants discussing her cats. Again. I had already had an outburst towards her earlier in the week, so it was imperative that I employ one of the coping strategies I had been spending the last four weeks learning. As per Wendy, our trusty Day Program Leader and Registered Psychiatric Nurse, I prompted myself to recall a time when I felt the strongest. What was I doing? Who was I with? Where was I? How did I feel?
People have told me I’m strong all of my life. I thought about these people a lot throughout the Day Program. About their silence, lack of support and inability to reach out. I didn’t know it then, but I know now, what others perceived as strength was actually resilience. I quite literally shouldn’t be here- a black, jewish, queer woman; systematically exterminated, ensalved, and senselessly murderered. To this very day. Hence, why it was so difficult to recall my strength, as I felt it was often confused for resilience.
But, more than resilience got me to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, Tanzania in 2015. That was strength. I was alone. I was hopeful. I was terrified. I was desperate to show up for myself. And I did. I did THAT! I summited Mount Kilimanjaro on March 8th, International Women’s Day.
When I returned home from traversing East Africa, I still wasn’t ready to show up for myself in the way I wanted, needed or deserved. I still had so much trauma to work through and self to uncover. Two years after I returned home, two years after I had one of the most come to G-d moments in Tanzania, is when I attempted suicide. It’s also when I decided I was going to actually start living again.
The Universe works in divine ways because had I not hiked Kilimanjaro, had I not had every exact experience I had on that journey, I wouldn’t have been able to make it through one of the darkest times of my life. After I completed my 6-week mental health outpatient Day Program (and continued with other therapies), I started getting outside and hiking again. Day hikes, weekend hiking trips, long walks with the dog, camping. Even though I was almost always the only Black person in most of these spaces, I kept showing up anyways. How could something that felt so organic to me not reflect me?
I thought back to Kili; looked through old photos and read the daily journal I kept. While I saw myself reflected in the guides and porters; especially my own guide who was trying to begin his own expedition business with me as his first customer, I realized no other trekkers were Black. I learnt so much about myself and my culture while on Mount Kilimanjaro. I learnt about how we as Black people work together, look out for one another, take care of each other, build together and dream together.
When I hike I give myself the permission to go ‘pole, pole’ (slowy, slowly in swahili). It’s something that Chuwa said to me in particularly precarious times, but in moments where I didn’t even know I needed to be reminded. ‘Pole, pole, Dada. Breathe. Take it all in. Think about who you are. Keep going’. Every time I step outside and begin a hike, I think about this. And, I think about how I want other Black folks like me to experience this too. I think about creating more reach and visibility and accessibility for BIPOC folks who are looking for outlets to connect to their highest selves. If we are not connected to the land; caring for ourselves, our people and the communities in which we hike, ski, snowboard, kayak, canoe, bike, surf, run, dance, play, create and grow, we won’t truly be able to find peace.
We are living in a time that begs us to be activists; for injustice, for the environment, for supporting marginalized folks. We must not be naive enough to shy away from the fact these things are all intrinsically linked. My time in the outdoors- whether it was Kilimanjaro, or Ha Ling Peak in Canmore, Alberta or The Chief in Squamish, BC- always provides time of profound rejuvenation, enlightenment and hope for a more colorful world.
Trekking Mount Kilimanjaro saved my life. I listened to my ancestors, trusted the land and found a strength within myself that helps me navigate my purpose, the type of community I am cultivating and the legacy I hope to create.
I would like to dedicate this article to one of my surrogate fathers, Evan Quick. Your love, humor and encouragement has been a guiding force in this life. On and off of the mountain. I love you. #KiliKlub4Lyfe