"Kemal's Last Laugh"

Three faces stare down on an old, yellowed map. Their eyes stop at Africa. They imagine the scene:

Icy......... cold Africa. The sun is busily playing basketball, bouncing passes off the snow-covered mountains. The rebounds rebound ... and rebound.......... and rebound. This is 17,000-foot Africa - fluffy white – seen by few from this close an angle; the 3 men are closely observing sleeping Mt. Kenya. In Africa, only the mighty Kilimanjaro is higher.

"That's it! The second tallest mountain this side of darkest Africa!" Americus Barton, the blond American speaks. The three white men, all tall, muscular, and good looking, are seated around a table intently reviewing a map tracing a climbing route of Mt. Kenya.

"Right there, the Nelion Peak," Americus rants on, "located in Central Kenya, East Africa. Approximately 70 miles north-northeast of Nairobi. Smack-dab in the middle of 300 square-mile national park. It has twin summits, called Bation and the famous Nelion. Nanyuki of the northwest side is the chief base for ascents and is connected to Nairobi by railway!" Americus points hard, slams his fast heavily on the table, stands up, and walks around the expensively furnished den with its walls covered with dead stuffed game heads, souvenirs, etc. "That's the one I want. I want to conquer Africa!" he says as he lifts his brandy snifter and engages in a haughty sip.

"He's always wanted Africa, this one has," laughs a gap-toothed Ellery Gent, the Englishman of the group. "Ee's done his blimey homework, too. We've climbed some of the best; the Matter horn, and Pikes Peak...... but this bloody bastard has always wanted Africa."

"I vo. ... vo. ... vote Africa too," says the younger, bearded stutterer Pye Spencer - known as Young Pye. "Wh..... wh..... why not."

"Then it is!" shouts a joyous Americus, "the triumvirate will conquer Africa and we will stand tall on the Dark Continent. A toast is in order, what say Ellery?"

"Jolly good man – we will tackle Africa. What say Pye," says Ellery.

"Africa – he. ... he. ... here we come!" says Young Pye.

The three men gleefully stand over the map, click their glasses, and in unison down the remaining brandy.

Americus is the first to de-plane as the Air Africa aircraft finally lands. The men are quickly picked up by a taxi and are soon in their hotel room with enough luggage for 10 people. There are hooded parkas in one corner, boots with shining crampons in another. The entire room is strewn with packs, sacks, socks, clocks, belts, pelts, dried food and drink, cameras and even a small sink. Ice-pick axes, nylon rope, and other expensive climbing equipment have been unpacked to be checked one last time. A half empty bottle of Remy Martin sits on the coffee table.

"Tight..... ugh......... pull the bitch tight!" grunts Americus as the three sit in a straight single file line, preparing the rope. Ellery checks Americus, Young Pye checks Ellery, and Americus re-checks Pye and Ellery, etc..etc.

"When do we meet this guide you've hired," a sweating Ellery says through clenched teeth.

"Tomorrow – he will meet us at the base of the mountain," Americus answers.

"Any go....... good?" Pye asks, as he untangles some rope and ties a knot faster than Jack Robinson.

"The best in Africa. He was recommended by the park ranger, an Englishman by the way, who was a good friend of my father's," says Americus.

"Better be bloody good, that's all I can say," says Ellery as the three continue the ritual of checking rope, relaying knots down the line.......... down the line....... down the line.

Next day.

The group arrives at the base of the mountain and meets their guide – Kemal- for the first time.

"I am Kemal, your guide," the jet-black African opens his mouth wide and smiles his pearly teeth, his reflection gleaming in Americus' mirrored sunglasses. In the background, behind the base of the mountain, one can glimpse picture perfect white capped mountains.

Kemal is wearing a tribal, traditional dashiki wrapped around his skinny upper torso; a tribal necklace around his bony neck. He is holding a spear-like walking stick in his right hand; and..... most curiously...... he is not wearing any shoes?

Americus, Ellery, and Young Pye walk around Kemal, carefully sizing him up as if prey.

"You ready?" says an unsmiling and serious Americus...... "no shoes or jacket in this cold weather...... won't you freeze to death?"

"I'm ready anytime you say, sir...... and I need no shoes or jacket – my ancestors were guides. My tribe is used to the cold, sir," Kemal's English is pretty good, with an African accent, as his words rise in a puff as they meet-n-greet the chilly cold air.

"Well – if you say so. Let's get on with it," Americus says.

The four men begin their journey, walking up the trail, the mounds of expensive gear hanging from their backs piggy style. They walk past a differing terrain every few miles, or so it seems - snow-spotted woods and trees for one mile; barren rock and dirt another. At days end they have traveled close to some 8,000 feet, and decide to set up camp on a snowless covered clearing. Soon, a crackling fire and the smell of frying steaks whiff the air. The three men are seated around a campfire, warming their bodies through brandy; Kemal off to the side, out of hearing distance, staring into the starring sky.

"Did I tell you men about the first man to climb this magnificent mountain?" says a swaggering Americus.

"Another one of ee's stories to brighten the evening, what say guvnor," says a chucking Ellery to Young Pye.

"I ... en. ... en ... joy his stories," stammers Pye. "besides, who..... who. ... else are we going to listen to way. ... way up here." The three men laugh.

"Sir Harold Mackinder, a countryman of yours Ellery, was the first man to claim the Nelion peak back in 1899. And, you can bet old man Mackinder didn't have the luxuries of a good piton or the new strength of a steel carabiner then, but it was his will power and daring that got him to the top of this damn mountain." Americus rises and begins to walk around the campfire ... becoming enthralled with his own story. "And you want to talk obstacles...... shit! He not only had to fight night and day the crevices and the cracks, but he was constantly being harassed by the savage, hostile tribes that lived in this region of the woods during that particular time. I'm talking real headhunters and cannibals."

"Come off it man," says Ellery, "I'm sure it wasn't that big a thing with the tribes."

"The hell it wasn't!" Americus jaunts/jumps over the fire and puts his big head between the two men. "You think those tribes understood the white man's thirst for adventure – or the God given right to explore the unknown and make it known? We're talking about people who saw the white man and only visualized light thigh sandwiches and white meat stew."

The abrupt/loud laughter causes Kemal to turn half-around and stare suspiciously into each man's eyes. ... as if he knew what they were talking about. Time stops for a moment. Kemal then turns back around and resumes his study of the sky above.

"Yes, Mackinder and his two guides were eventually successful. They embodied the spirit the lives in every good climber, every good great thinker, every good explorer – from Columbus to Lewis and Clark. ... from Leakey to Einstein. ... from Jonas Salk to Chuck Yeager," says Americus – nearing drunk from the brandy - but caught up in his soliloquy; as he stretches his arms outward to full length and beats a drum thump on his chest King Kong style while letting out a wicked, earsplitting Tarzan yell:

"AHHHHHH AH AH AH AH AH AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH."

Ellery and Young Pye, moved by Americus' spirit, rise-up heroically and join in the Tarzan yell. They then stop – join their glasses in the middle for the nights last toast – clink their glasses, and down the remaining brandy.

Next day. The four men, with Kemal leading, continue the rugged climb up the mountain. The terrain now is all snow-covered, no more barren earth. The only sounds arising out of the cold crisp air is the breathing of the four men; the pounding of pitons; the clicking sounds of the carabiners being snapped into place; and the eerie sounds of their spiked boots, scratching for all its worth as they make their way up the steep mountain.

They have made great progress – and it is nearing dusk, but instead of looking for a clearing to set up camp, there is a collective spirit to push on. It usually takes most climbers 2 and 1/2 to 3 days to climb Mt. Kenya. An unending array of sparkling stars, shining as bright as the brightest diamond, begin popping on in the velvet sky like street lights at 7pm. in the urban city.

"It's like a damned sixth sense, it is" Ellery finally speaks. "I tell you, I can fill the summit nearing."

"I fee...... feel it to," says an exhausted Young Pye.

"I feel it too my faithful comrades (breathing heavily). ... let's not stop and camp now (breathing heavily)....... I just know we are nearing our greatest destination – let's make it to the top in 2 days. ... push on!," says Americus up front as he turns to exhort his companions behind him.

"Yes. I feel it. I believe you are all correct," Kemal finally speaks. Kemal is now in the rear, being ordered there by Americus when the group first felt the sensation of reaching their destination.

From afar, the four climbers resemble an earthworm inching up a molehill. They in unison work each other up the mountain. The pace quickens......... the breathing shortens...... anxiously, as a conquering satisfaction begins to overtake the all of the men's faces.

"EUREKA!" shouts Americus as he is the first to reach the top. He pulls himself up on a flat clearing and quickly helps the other three up; first Ellery, then Young Pye, and lastly Kemal. The men quickly throw their backpacks off, and fall – exhausted - to mother earth. While on their knees, there is not a word uttered. The men gaze into the great evening sky before the night totally darkens. The stars are so close, Young Pye reaches up as if to grab a star and examine it more closely! It is like looking into the clearest blue ocean and being able to see all the starfish affixed to the bottom.

"My god....................."

"Bloody amazing..........."

"Beau....... beautiful........"

They stumble around each other, none able to take their eyes off the sky and pure heavens above. They have never seen such a sight.

"It's like being on the top of the world, yeah it is" Ellery says.

"And only a few have ever witnessed such sights -be proud my friends," says Americus.

As the three men search upward, throwing adjectives into the night air, completely ignoring Kemal in their own delight....... Kemal is the first to notice an unusual mist coming from behind a huge, hanging rock near the edge of the summit? Strange? Although there is a constant light mist in the air bouncing off the snowy ground all around - from beyond the hanging rock there is an ominous spiral smoke ring rising from behind the great rock?

"Look!" Kemal grabs the arm of Americus and points toward the spiraling smoke. Ellery and Young Pye quit their stargazing and they all look in the direction of the rock.

"It.............. it...... it looks like smoke for a fire" Young Pye finally gets it out.

The four apprehensively head toward the rock, each holding on to each other. Once they reach the great rock......... they slowly poke their heads to the top and peer over.

There.................... they can't believe their eyes........ but there..... hovering over a small fire............ is a barefoot, small black man, scrunched over the fire warming himself..... squatting...... oblivious that others are watching him? The little man is clad in only a light, woolen pullover cloth similar to Kemal's - with a satchel draped over his shoulder. He has a pot hanging over the fire, hanging on a crudely built barbeque made from tree branches. He is stirring the contents of the pot with a tree branch.

"NO...... NO!" moans Americus.

"Shi........ shi............. shit! I don't believe it...." stutters Young Pye.

The jet black, mousy man finally hears the squabble behind him and looks over his shoulder – never straightening from his haunches – at the white men and Kemal. His eyes are big as saucers, but he says nothing and continues stirring.

"Who is ee?" Ellery finally asks the definitive question.

"Wha....... what's he cooking?" Young Pye offers as he pinches his nose at the offensive odor.

"Who the hell is the son-of-a-bitch, and how in Jesus' name did he get up here!" says an angering Americus.

The little man continues his stirring.

Americus, Young Pye, and Ellery continue peering over the rock, but Kemal has now climbed over the rock and is walking toward the man. When he reaches him, he squats down next to him in similar fashion – and the others can see there is dialogue commencing. Kemal says something to the man in an African dialect and the little jet-black man soon flashes a huge smile – his pearly teeth as white as the stars above. The little man then mumbles one word ... then two. Kemal appears to answer affirmatively. Now comfortable, the little man lets loose with a barrage of rapid-fire dialogue. The two men banter back and forth for 1/2 an hour – as the three white men sit there with an increasing impatience.

Finally............ Kemal and the man stop talking, and appear to laugh.

Kemal heads back toward the men.

"What the f$#@!@$%$#* was all that mumbo jumbo about!" Americus demands.

"Very interesting," says a calm Kemal as he gets back to the group. "It seems that our friend here is what you westerners might call a ... let me see if I can think of the right word............. I believe you would refer to him as a religious "zealot" ... if that is the right word?"

"Give me more," an irritated and impatient Americus demands.

"Well........ it is really quite simple.......... the black African man is here to pray to his god ... the Kikuyu god of En-gai."

The three men, already ashen, turn and once again observe the little man stirring over his pot.

"WHAT?" Americus says incredulously.

"He came to pray to his god," Kemal answers calmly.

"Well.... I'll be bloody damned!" Ellery says.

"BUT THE BASTARD DOESN'T HAVE ON ANY GODAMMED CLOTHES – NO ROPES-NO CLIMBING EQUIPMENT LIKE WE USED - LET ALONE CLIMBING BOOTS, NOTHING. ... GODAMITT KEMAL – QUIT PLAYING AROUND. ... HOW THE HELL DID HE GET UP HERE!" Americus shouts with veins popping out the sides of his neck.

"He says that the spirit showed him the way ... that it was Kikuyu's will," Kemal says.

"A bunch of shit," an angry Americus says as he kicks up some snow.

Americus then struts around uneasily, as if in deep thought.

"Well......... he can't do anything about learning the truth now. Leave the man to his pot and let's set up camp and get a fire going ... it's freezing out here!" Americus is the first to break away as he throws his arms around his chest to warm himself. The other men follow him back toward the gear.

The three men quickly set up camp and soon the brandy snifters come out and the steaks are on the skillet. Kemal is over talking to the little black man. The glow of the fire illuminates in the fresh, now dark, brisk air as the three men rally around the campfire.

"I..... I..... I.... still can't believe it ... amazing," laughs Pye.

"I don't see anything funny about it at all," says Americus as he empties another stiff shot of brandy into his snifter.

"Admit it old chum ... it is truly unbelievable...... and funny, I might add," chuckles Ellery as he and Young Pye poke each other.

"Funny? What the hell is funny? We've each brought up here over $10,000 worth of sophisticated equipment ... the latest stuff..... we've spent four months planning this one trip. ... paid for a damn guide....... only to get to the top and what do we find? An old, bent-over little African with nothing on but a skimpy loin cloth. That's not what I would call funny, and I for one don't believe that bullshit about some spirit showing him the way up here!" Americus yells in disgust.

"Ho ... how........ how else could he have gotten up here?" stammers Young Pye.

"He bloody flew like a bird," Ellery says as he flaps his arms, winks at Pye, and both men break into a stifled laugh.

"Well, it's good to see the stuttering ass and his sidekick – the gaptoothed mule – are having such a grand time," Americus says, "maybe when we reach civilization again you two can team up as a comedy team."

The two men eye Americus coldly.

"I just bet that the park ranger had something to do with this," says Americus. "If I remember correctly, my father said the ranger was a good man but had a warped sense of humor............ a bit off like all Englishmen – what say Ellery?"

Ellery stares menacingly at Americus.

"Nothing intended old chap," says Americus sarcastically as he turns away from the group and gulps down his brandy.

Kemal walks over to join the men.

"Did you get any more information from our religious fanatic," asks Ellery eagerly.