Bad joke?

An American, a Canadian, and a Briton are climbing up a mountain in Africa… sounds like the start of a bad joke doesn’t it? Well actually that was just my Saturday afternoon here in Iringa. Andrew, Paul and I decided to go for a hike this past weekend. The main difference between hiking in Canada versus Tanzania is the idea of a trail. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that there are not trails here; it’s just that they are few and far between, and they don’t tend to be continuous. You will find a nice set path and follow it for some time, but then it just disappears and you are left to the mercy of the cacti and thorn bushes. The astonishing thing is that the point we hiked to has a large concrete wall and bench that was built just this past March. I do not want to imagine the fellows who had to carry all the concrete, let alone the gallons and gallons of water from the river valley. To do this without forming a path seemed very strange to us. Nonetheless the view was staggering, with gorgeous ridges and valleys rising and collapsing all around us, dotted of course by granite boulders of all sizes formed through volcanic activity. Being there under the late afternoon sun brought a whispered voice of “I am actually here” to the depths my being. After having dreamt about experiencing the majestic landscape of Africa for the last couple of years, looking at this postcard perfect view, with the hot sun beating my brow and the cool breeze mercifully lifting drops of perspiration from my skin, I could not help but feel a sense of purpose in this world.