The small town of Emali seems like something of a bustling metropolis compared to the smaller villages that we have been passing. Our view of it, however, is the tree-shaded compound that provides a convenient tourist-oriented stop-over at the turn-off to Amboseli.

Here we finally leave the Mombasa Road and turn almost directly south, the settlements thinning out and the cultivation fading into vast open plains of wilderness. The view to the south is lost in the haze and there seems to be an increasing amount of cloud cover the further south we get.

Off to the east, dominating the view as we continue south, a line of what look like volcanic cones overlap each other in a riot of steep, barren slopes.

“Ian, are those volcanic,” I ask as we continue south, pointing off to the east.

“Oh, yes, that’s the Chyulu Hills. There’s a fascinating National Park on the other side and up into the cones. Kilometre-long lava tube caves to explore and plenty of wildlife. The roads are bloody awful though and almost nobody ever goes there as a tourist destination. Shame, really, as it is very interesting.”

“It’s fascinating,” I mutter. “I don’t exactly have any experience of volcanic landscapes. Well, none of us do, do we?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Brian tells me with a smile. “We’re heading to one of the biggest volcanoes on the planet. It’s right ahead.”

CHULYU PHOTO

I instinctively look forward, out through the windscreen to the skyline ahead. The now cloudy overcast seems to meet the land in the distance, but there’s a hint of an obvious upward slope to the ground in the distance.

“Where?”

“Oh, you’ll believe me if the clouds clear, trust me.”

“I’ve seen photos, you know?”

“Yes, so have I. I bet they don’t do it justice,” Brian continues.

“He’s right,” Ian adds. “Don’t get your hopes up too much. At this time of the year we will need some luck to see Kilimanjaro. If we do, it is truly magnificent.

“I’m crossing everything,” I tell him. “A nice photo of an elephant with the mountain in the background is all I need. That’s what we are here for, isn’t it.”

Brian and almost all the others start laughing. “What? What did I say?”

“I’m sorry, Mark,” Brian tells me with a light touch on my arm. “You know that’s not going to happen, right?”

“Of course it is,” I tell him. “That’s what the visitors come here for, isn’t it?” I’ve the feeling that I said something wrong, but can’t quite see what it is.

“Yes, Mark, it is.” Ian is a little gentler with me than my laughing fellow travellers. “Unfortunately, most of them go away without such a photo. I don’t want you to get your hopes up too much. Look at the weather.”

“It’s okay, Mark,” Mary adds in a conciliatory tone. “It is what we all hope for as well. You’re just a little more optimistic than the rest of us.

“Sometimes, hope is all you have,” I tell them solemnly as I fall into silence.

The next hour of our journey is fairly quiet. I’ve managed to get myself into a somewhat melancholic state of mind over something that, at first glance is pretty insignificant. Deep down, I know that I only have a slim chance of seeing Kilimanjaro. We’re going to spend basically three nights in sight of it, on both sides of the border, but that may not be enough. Having my dream somehow shattered by my companions, is, however, sobering and a little depressing.

I sit in my corner at the back, ignoring the short conversations taking part around me. It’s sometimes difficult to remain focussed on the positives and I can sense myself struggling to be positive.

“Hey,” Brian whispers as we turn off the main road south and start to head west. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Just trying to make more out of the dream than is really there, I suppose.”

“Well, I wish I could tell you it was a rubbish view anyway, but…”

“I know. It’s an unrealistic approach to have, but I’ve had a bad couple of years and have built this whole trip up in my head. I’ll be fine, honestly. Just…”

“What?”

“Just talk to me if I get like this, okay?”

“Sure. I know what a hard time is like, believe me.”

 

Our arrival at the lodge is quick, organised and efficient. Most guests apparently arrive later in the day and there are plenty of staff on-hand to get us into our chalets with alacrity. We’ve made pretty good time, all things considered, and even managed to stay together as a group.

The cloud cover is relentless, but there is now a very obvious rise to the ground south of us. I can’t see that there’s much more than a slope, but it is very clear that much is hidden.

“Right,” Peter tells us when we have all found seats and food at the buffet for lunch. “It’s still early. Let’s relax around the lodge and meet back at reception at about three. We’ll go and spend a few hours in the park.”

“I think I saw a sign for a pool,” Brian tells me as we head towards our room. “Do you fancy a quick swim?”

“Sure, but I’ll need help with more sunscreen.”

It takes us only a couple of minutes to get our swim gear on and walk back to the pool area. Brian locates a couple of loungers that are free – many of them are, as it is a quiet part of the day – while I grab a couple of towels from the counter. By the time I come back with the towels, Brian has ordered a couple of cokes for us.

“Did you say sunscreen, earlier,” he asks as I take a seat on a now spread-out towel.

“Oh, yes please,” I agree, handing him my bottle of sunscreen and lifting my loose t-shirt up over my head. “I know it is overcast, but I don’t trust it to be enough.”

I can’t help but notice that he does more of the work with his left hand, clearly favouring the right one. His touch is firm, yet gentle. It’s a little difficult to resist the urge to lean into the pressure.

“Do you want some?” I ask once he has finished.

“Well, I wasn’t going to bother – I usually tan nicely – but I can feel the sting in the sun even through this cloud. Can I use a little of yours? Just my shoulders, really.”

“Of course you can. Take your shirt off and turn round.”

I squirt a generous dollop of the creamy liquid onto my hand and start to spread it across his back and shoulders. That scar on his shoulder is rough and tight and I’m trying my best to be gentle.

“Can I ask about this?” I murmur as I brush gently across the scar. “I’m sorry, is it a bullet wound?”

Unconsciously, Brian lifts a hand to touch my fingertips on his shoulder in reassurance. “It’s fine. It’s not a secret, well, not really. Yes, it’s a bullet wound. Actually, an AK-47 bullet.”

“You don’t mind talking about it?”

“No, it’s just one of those things. I have to live with it and I can’t exactly hide it and live a normal life.” He shrugs his shoulders briefly and turns to face me a little more directly.

“So, do you mind if I ask what happened? I’ve never seen anyone who has been shot before, except people on the television.”

“I was in Afghanistan,” he tells me. “I was getting close to the end of my second six-month tour and we were on a routine patrol. There was just a single spray of machinegun fire as we walked through the village. I was just unlucky. The bullet managed to find a gap in my body-armour and this is the result.”

“You were in the army?”

“Yes, almost ten years. This,” he adds with a shrug of the affected shoulder, “put an end to my service, though.”

“It looks quite bad. Is it?”

“Maybe not as bad as it looks, but it has taken some of the strength and range of motion out of that side. Enough to make me unfit to continue to serve. Well, I really couldn’t do what I did before the injury at all now.”

“Is it okay to ask what you did, in the army, I mean?”

“Yes, I don’t think I’m giving out any official secrets to the enemy. I was a designated marksman in the infantry.”

“You mean a sniper?”

“I’m not particularly fond of the term. It makes me sound like something out of a video game, but yes.”

“Did you ever…” I let my words trail off, leaving that ultimate question unsaid.

“Yes, Mark, I did. Several times.”

“Sorry…”

“It’s fine. Sometimes you just have to do your duty, you know.”

“Yeah. We’re just all so detached from the whole thing most of the time. We don’t think about it. Hell, I even play video games and pretend to do what you’ve done for real.”

“I know. It’s fine. It is just nothing like a video game in real life.”

“Well, Brian, thank you for telling me about it.”

“No problem. Come on, let’s go for that swim.”