I am African to the core, but my second life happened in Aotearoa/New Zealand. Though financially harsh, it was easily the most wondrous years the Greenie and I have spend anywhere.
The death of mountain slayer, Edmund Hillary, this week reminded me how I first heard of him. When we announced to family we were emigrating to New Zealand 1999, the first thing my mum said was:" It is a New Zealander who was the first man to climb Mt Everest to the top. I think he was something Hillary." We all looked at her in amazement. New Zealand was pretty much All Blacks and sheep and a female prime minister at that stage!
What did I know of Everest? Apart from the fact that it was the highest mountain in the world? Sweet fanny blow all. My closest encounter with snow capped mountains was the movie Alive. Best not to say anything about that movie - you watch it yourself and then decide what your moral judgement will be about survival at all costs. The rugby team on the Andes was stuck, Hillary went because he could.
His death is a massive loss for New Zealand, as ambassador, as ordinary man who did extraordinary things. His death could be a fatal blow for Nepal. The country, already on the edge of the political cliff heading into full blown democracy, without a monarchy for the first time in 240 years, cannot afford to lose one single friend. And Hillary was the best friend of all.
This week I also finished reading Inés of my Soul, Isabel Allende's book about the conquest and founding of Chile. Looking forward while looking back is never easy. Combined with the suffocating Aussie heat, I had endless bad dreams and nightmares, struggling along through the jungles of South America for the last few weeks. Nearly dead, disoriented and utterly lost. All round very exhausting. And sad. Because conquest always brings loss. Let's be thankful no one lost their life during Sir Ed's assault and conquest in 1953.
Arohanui to your family and friends, Edmund Hillary.
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