It's time to leave, the last health checks, saturation measurements are being done. Unfortunately, two ladies cannot come with us, as the guides estimated that the altitude sickness threatens to seriously endanger their health, and they order them to go down to the base camp immediately. As soon as their body gets oxygen, they will be better, he assures us. We hug, say our goodbyes, they encourage us, tell us to climb the mountain for them too. There are 12 of us now, and it is time to tackle this giant.
Night. Cold sharp air. Nothing is heard but our slow, sluggish steps and deep breathing. The column was formed, which we can only know by following the lights of the forehead lamps. I am alone with my thoughts. I repeat to myself "just move and breathe deeply". "One step at the time", our guides repeat, as they run around us, give us water, and monitor our condition. After two hours of climbing, fighting with ourselves, fighting for breaths - it's time for the first break. I observe the people around me. Many are feeling nauseous, with blue mouths, sitting and trying to gather strength for the next part of the ascent. I'm fine, I'm on my feet, I add juice and sweets to those who find it difficult to even open their backpack. Three people are already taking oxygen support to help them move on. During this break, two more hikers leave us. This time the mountain did not allow them to go further, they could not catch their breath.
The ten of us continue on to the top. Guides help us, carry things. And most importantly, they constantly repeat as a mantra:
“You are stronger then this!”
“So far so good”,
"One step at the time",
"You are almost there, keep going!"
These affirmative beliefs enter the consciousness, the subconscious, and feed our will everywhere. It is impossible to give up with these words that resonate in our ears. Suddenly the song of the guide begins, while we stumble up the slope of the ascent, they sing, almost meditatively, applauding - the song encourages us and we all, somehow strengthened, continue through the rocks.
At each break, someone receives oxygen, someone is massaged, some guides are carrying people to the top.
Branko, Bleča and I are on our feet. We move, step by step. Bleča takes oxygen at every break, overcoming covid and pneumonia have left a mark, but he does not give up. It's another hour to the top, we have to endure. In my head, I just think of my children and how I promised them that I would sing at the top. All messages of support pass before my eyes, my friends, family, participants in my trainings - all those who believe in me and who I teach that everything is possible and that our personal boundaries do not exist, that they are where we decide to be. We have decided that there are no boundaries that will separate us from the top.
Branko and I arrive first, without oxygen, on our feet. When I saw the board so many emotions in me and tears just welled up. An indescribable feeling, I don't even want to try to clarify, it has to be experienced. Bleča arrives slowly, followed by the rest of the team. Many are so exhausted that they can't get up to take photos. As many as four are sitting under the board, fainting from fatigue, they are receiving oxygen, an indescribable sight of human will and victory over themselves and over the mountain.
I take the microphone and, as I promised, sing "Midnight" from the movie “Toma”. The Mountain smiles to us. Kilimanjaro rewards us for all our efforts with the most beautiful scene of dawn that will forever remain imprinted in our memory.
Uhuru means freedom. Uhuru is the name of the highest peak in Africa. We won freedom, at least for a moment. I have proved that everything I believe in and teach other people makes sense - human possibilities are inconceivable and there is no peak that is unconquerable when there is a clear decision, a great motive and the right support.