19,341 feet in the air lies the roof of Africa. When I first envisioned myself standing at that spot, I was a freshman in high school, inspired by “No Summit Out of Sight” by Jordan Romero, the (then) youngest person in the world to climb the seven summits: the tallest point on each content. Growing up in a family of adventure-seekers and parents who inspire healthy living, I was even more invigorated by the concept of peaking, figuratively and literary, on Mount Kilimanjaro.

Dreams often feel lofty right until they come true. For me, the privilege of summiting this beautiful mountain, enriched with local culture, centuries of history, and five diverse climate zones, was an opportunity so joy-filled I convinced myself almost every day on the mountain that I was in a video game. My Jumanji-inspired attitude made minor discomforts, like a blister on my toe, or the fact that I was 8,000 miles from home, obsolete. I realized that, while Kilimanjaro had sparked this in-the-moment euphoria, it wasn’t dependent on my surroundings. Despite the high altitude wreaking havoc on my blood oxygen levels, I knew that the beauty, adventure, and pure joy of the mountain and its people were spread across the world, in my own family, and wherever I go in my life.

On our last day climbing – after 13 hours on our feet the day before, spent summiting at 6:20 am and “skiing” on loose dirt for 6,000 feet down the mountain – my family of four was beaming at our group of porters and guides that had been one of the biggest reasons for our success on the mountain. They were singing a collection of local songs in Swahili – Tanzania’s official language – in perfect harmony, accompanied by carefree dancing and chanting. A few porters of the group who were training to be guides had sung the same songs to us over 24 hours earlier when we were three-and-a-half hours from summiting mighty Kilimanjaro at the break of dawn. Something about the very first chant “jambo, jambo sana,” or “hello, hello sir,” in Swahili, made me feel like my family, the porters and I were the only people in the world. Somehow, I also felt an overwhelming sense of global community – if anyone can join together in song and be happy for five minutes – then anything if possible.

It is painful to understand how different people’s lives are that you become so close with over seven days. Hard to believe that two guides and dozens of porters you meet on a mountain that is their home can’t come with you back to Atlanta and share your life experiences with them, as they selflessly did with you. Our guides poured their hearts and souls into making our trip the most pure, exciting, and memorable experience of our lives. With 27 years of experience on Kilimanjaro between the two of them, and their motto “safety, then summit,” I felt more ready each day to conquer once what they had done more than 200 times. Their joy, for us and for being able to work on the mountain – despite the array of challenges that come with being a guide on the tallest mountain in Africa – and for having hiked the route I was seeing for the first time so many times before me, made me feel invincible. When other people show you day in and day out what it looks like to work hard, through the good, bad, and ugly, in every condition, you feel empowered to do the same in your own life. You learn that every moment has joy in it – you just have to see it for what it already is. 

Ella Kaufman served as editor-in-chief of the Warrior Wire during the 2022-23 school year. She will attend the University of California, Berkeley in the fall.