White man hikes the black mountain

The following is the description of today from the tour company's info site:

"DAY 2 MACHAME GATE TO MACHAME CAMP,  Dec 8

Hiking Time: 6-7 hrs
Total Distance: 18km
Starting Altitude: 1490m
Final Altitude: 2980m
Habitat: Montane (rain) Forest
After breakfast, we drive approximately 1 hour drive to the village of Machame. Depending on the condition of the road, it may be possible to drive 3km further from the village to the Machame gate of the Mt. Kilimanjaro National Park (1815m). After registering at the gate office, you start your ascent and enter the lush rain forest. Here, you will listen to the sounds of many exotic birds, and may even see monkeys such as the black & white colobus - these monkeys are black with a long ‘cape’ of white hair and a flowing white tail.
Most of today’s day is spent in the gorgeous and fascinating forested slopes of Mt. Kilimanjaro, most of which is considered to be rainforest zone. It is very possible that we will see some rain today, or that at least the trail will be moist and soggy, and possibly muddy.
We cover a lot of distance today, though the gradient is gradual. We climb the lower slopes of the mountain, ending at the Machame Campsite, just beyond the rain forest and within the fascinating heath-land."

Before breakfast, Kili shows itself briefly again. The night is cold. We do not get much sleep. It will get colder as we ascend. Will my sleeping bag be warm enough?

We meet for breakfast around 7 o'clock in the morning. We all ask for eggs , but can not eat them. The yolks of the eggs are a weird color, more greenish black than the bright yellow we are all used to.  We are all very scared of getting a bad stomach on the mountain. We have all read all the blogs that previous climbers wrote, all the info available on the net about Machame route and how hard it is. So we are all full of anxiety about what is to come. Jo does not feel very well. She already has a bad stomach. Andrew is the only one that's not so worried. He has hiked to Everest basecamp (5,100 mt) only a few weeks ago. He is well-trained and acclamatized. He is convinced that if he eats A LOT, especially carbohydrates, he will make it to the top. He eats all our eggs .

We check out,. They load our bags on top of the bus and we leave civilization.

At the national park gate, we get off the bus
and register ourselves. We have to wait for a long time for the porters to get organized.

They look like an army from a distance. They are all lined up with their load. At one point, they take-off. That is our signal for take-off too. We start hiking and walk right into the rainforest with our daypacks on our backs and the porters, with the rest of our stuff, our tents, out "luggable" toilet tent, our dining tent, their kitchen tent, all the cooking stuff, big plastic bottles for water, chairs, tables, and guide's tent. I feel embarrased. An army of people are on the move and suffering for our "pleasure". OK we also suffer, but it is by choice and we suffer with only our day packs! On the other hand, my friends calm me down, they say being a porter is a very good job and that they make money to take back to their families.

An hour into the forest and rain starts. It is not rain as we know it. It is tropical rain. The trees are no use. It is not fun to have lunch out of lunch boxes in the rain so we eat quickly. Lunch packs have peanuts, a samosa or fried chicken, a boiled egg, a bun of bread, and a small cake.

It is also not fun to pee in the rain. You need to pull down a few layers of clothing and by the time you are ready to pee your skin is wet. You will need to pull all that back up on wet skin. You try to consume less water not to pee too many times, but you have been told many times to consume lots of water on the hike. Big dilemna.

We walk this way for 6 hours. Our spirit is high. We sing Tanzanian songs about Kilimanjaro which basically consist of two most popular Kili phrases and a combination of syllables that we try to memorize. We chat and laugh. Nobody complains but it is a long walk. I get friendly with Isa 2. We are both Muslims, but none of us know how to pray or or say prayers. I call us "light muslims". He whispers "salam alekum" in my ear as if it is something to hide, but this becomes our bonding point. He is a young kid, 

maybe 19 or 20. 

Halfway through the walk, my daypack starts feeling heavier and heavier. The heaviest thing in it is 4 litres of water that I am supposed to drink every day. I slow down and lag behind, but Isa 2 doesn't leave me. He says he would carry my water bottles if I wanted him to. I convince him to carry the whole bag. That's how my relations with the "back" team start and soon I learn to use it to my advantage. I go on walking with two questions on my mind. The first one is the question that you ask every day: when will we get to camp? The second one: Can I fight the disadvantage of the age gap by giving my daypack to Isa 2 every day? 

the tree of wet clothes

Six hours later, we arrive at our first camp at 3000 metres altitude. Everything I have on is wet. I make a "tree", a tree of wet clothes, but they don't dry. Sam finds a tick on his hand. We remove it.
The sun shows its face around sunset time. We see mountains of forests around us, but the clouds don't let us see any further. Maybe we have Moshi town under or the snowy peak above, but we will never know that.

At the dining tent, we are offered popcorn before dinner, popcorn and instant hot chocolate-Milo. On the table, we also have instant African coffee, peanut butter, honey, coffeemate, and what we call "carrot jam" (we don't really know what's in it), red gold brand tomato sauce , and chilli sauce. Whatever the occasion may be, these are always on the table.

Before dinner we go back to our tents. My boots are wet inside out and so are my socks. I duct tape a clean/dry pair of socks to make them water-proof so that I can wear the boots around camp. I hope the boots dry by next morning, but I really doubt it. I swear at myself for bringing an extra pair of shoes all the way to Moshi, but leaving them behind at the hotel to make my bag lighter.
Dinner is cucumber soup, vegetable curry sauce or meal, and rice. Morale is high. Andy, Anna, and Meg constantly break jokes and laugh. They are funny. Andrew eats all the left-over food. He thinks it was a nice walk and a nice day today. I disagree! We walked for a very long time in the rain and fog, wet all over, suffering from hunger and not being able to pee. 
The atmosphere is British. No personal questions are asked.
Girls have started a diary of Kili. We put our personal highlights and lowlights of the day.  My highlight, giving my day pack to Isa 2 and my lowlight, wet boots, wet socks, wet day bag, wet, wet, wet
Future is gloomy. Jo has not totally recovered. Sam may have fever because of the tick bite.
I use my personal relations with "the kitchen" and get hot water for my hot water bottle. The guy who brings me the water calls me "mama"! I don't believe it! When I investigate a little, I find out that in their culture, they call "older" women mama regardless of them having children or not. So I am in this category now, category of older women. I don't feel I belong there, but obviously I do, at least in Africa I do.