Читать книгу Mt Kilimanjaro & Me - Annette Freeman - Страница 8

My training program powered on. April was the month that I participated in a community event organised by the charity Oxfam, a cheerful get-together called ‘Walk Against Want’. Oxfam, I learnt, organises these walks all the time. This one began in the beachside suburb of Manly and continued around the bushy coastline to another waterside hub called The Spit. If you walked back again, as I did, it was twenty kilometres. This seemed like a good workout for a Sunday morning, with the added bonus of some great views, and beaches and cafes at each end for picnicking or a latte.

It so happened that Oxfam and I were, at this time, getting to know each other. I had decided to use the impending ‘Great Kili Climb’ to raise some funds for Africa. Having already encountered the mixed and challenging feelings of an affluent Western traveller in a third world country, I knew I was likely to get to Tanzania and want very much to help. Handing out a few bucks to the nearest and shrillest beggar wasn’t going to cut it. So I came up with the idea of choosing an African cause before I even got to the continent, and doing what I could to raise a reasonable sum in advance of seeing the challenges up close.

So I Googled ‘African charities’ and was swamped with tens of thousands of extremely needy projects. Africa was daunting. Still, better to light a candle than curse the gloom and so on. I ended up choosing Oxfam Australia’s African Appeal, since I wanted my potential donors to be able to claim a tax break on the large sums I hoped they’d send to my appeal. Oxfam assured me that whatever I raised would be directed to Africa and whatever present need was most pressing when I handed the money over.

The ‘Walk Against Want’ was my first sponsored venture, thereby neatly covering two bases – training and fundraising. Several generous souls sponsored my walk, which I finished tired but satisfied. I also set up a small amateur website to explain the cause and the climb, which included pictures of Africa, Kilimanjaro and my training exploits.

Donations rolled in steadily if slowly. I emailed everyone I knew, pestered friends and colleagues, and invited my clients to support the cause. Some very generous gifts were given. I set a target of $10,000 and was well on the way to it by the time I left for Africa.

I also offered the inducement of a Summit Bonus. The idea was that a donor could pledge an amount which would be payable only if I reached the summit. If I didn’t, then I promised to contribute the same amount. This attracted a few sporting souls. My trainer at the gym, Steve, pledged a Summit Bonus and then paid it in advance anyway. He said that I had better make the top because his professional reputation was riding on it. I took this as a welcome vote of confidence.

I must admit that the fundraising was proving a bit of a burden as I spent time concentrating on training, as well as the usual busy round of life. I did, however, manage to drum up about twenty good folk for an African dinner, complete with kindly-donated South African wine. This we held at an East African eatery in Sydney named, appropriately enough, Le Kilimanjaro. Le Kilimanjaro was an unlikely sort of place. It was on King Street in Sydney’s Newtown, a funky neighbourhood full of dozens of ethnic eateries, but it was the only African one there; possibly the only one anywhere in Sydney. The hosts were from East Africa and dressed gorgeously in coloured, floating draperies. They were also exotically handsome and beautiful, with colourful turbans around their regal heads. The food, which they assured us was authentically East African, consisted mainly of meat and vegetable dishes.

I arrive early with my sister Sue, who was helping me out with this project. We had booked the upstairs room and Sue and I chose a selection of dishes for the table and set out the South African wine. (South Africa is a rather long way from Tanzania, but at least it’s the same continent.) My long-suffering friends, Kyle and Steve, arrived. Kyle had actually summitted Kili. I showed maps of Kili and the route my group was planning to take. Kyle gave us a little talk about what it was like on the mountain. I think most people were a bit sobered by his story of trekkers who weren’t able to make it to the summit. I certainly was. The dinner guests had a short moment of silence while they thought about failure. But we soon revived – thinking positive!

I indulged my penchant for making speeches too, and spoke about the overwhelming need in Africa, which I had been reading about on the internet and in Oxfam’s literature. I told my guests about literally millions of people in Africa facing a humanitarian crisis caused by drought, conflict, and rising food prices, and about the desperate need for clean water supplies, which can often be solved at relatively little cost. Sue and I had got hold of some cute African dolls made by Fair Trade artisans in Africa, through Oxfam, and I held a little quiz and gave them as prizes. By this time the South African wine had been flowing and my guests forgave me for all of this, and generously pledged their support for my cause.

Our African hosts plied us with more and more food, the tall ladies sweeping in and out of our party in vivid blue robes and golden cotton drapes on shining complexions. The whole evening was an exotic interlude in a Sydney ‘burb, and I felt I had begun my journey to Africa.

Quite a few others in my trekking group had come up with the same idea to fund-raise in advance, and I found that at least half-a-dozen projects were underway, helping a diverse collection of charities. A bit of a race developed, with the charity supporters trying to out-do each others’ totals. When it was all over, the group had raised an amazing US$85,000 for a selection of their favourite charities. As if climbing the mountain wasn’t enough.

Now back to the training – don’t even think about letting up.