CHAPTER 22
“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.” – Mother Teresa
After I return from Kilimanjaro everyone has the same question on their lips.
“Did your trip bring you closure?”
“No,” I tell them. “But it brought me more peace.”
These conversations often leave me wondering what is meant by “closure”. Nothing is “closed” for me. It’s not as if I can just forget about the past and move on. In fact, I’ve done precisely the opposite. I’ve opened myself up to all of life’s experiences, including my personal process of dealing with my loss. In doing so, I’ve increasingly found greater peace and created the space for joy, excitement, wonder and love.
What I did gain from my return trip to Tanzania was a sense of completion with regard to Kilimanjaro and a greater ability to continue living my life to the full.
On 18 July 2017, exactly a year after the tragedy, when I removed my wedding ring, I had to accept that I am no longer married to Gugu Zulu. I still love him, and I always will. He will always have a special place in my heart – there’s a reason the wedding vows stipulate “till death do us part”. Whatever hand you’re dealt, the clock keeps ticking and life does go on.
These thoughts take me back to an encounter I had with a Home Affairs official in Randburg a few weeks after Gugs passed. I had gone in to request a copy of our marriage certificate and he asked where my husband was. I proceeded to tell him Gugs had passed away. His response was, “But then you’re not married any more. You don’t need this certificate.” At the time, the words cut through my heart like a jagged knife. Now, in retrospect, I completely understand what he meant. Gugs’s passing meant that our marriage is null and void. It’s exactly what “till death do us part” means.
Three years on, despite how far I’ve come, I still have moments when I battle to make sense of my changed life. I don’t often visit Gugs’s grave, because I know that he’s not there. He is with us wherever we go, in pictures, in conversation, in memories, in spirit. In a way, this makes it easier to deal with his absence.
During my brief speech at his funeral, I made a plea and a pledge to do something about reducing the number of annual deaths due to altitude sickness on Kilimanjaro (roughly 10 climbers a year) by helping to set up a mini healthcare unit on the mountain in memory of Gugs. After brainstorming the plan with various others and unsuccessful attempts to communicate with those in charge at Kilimanjaro National Park, one meeting in particular changed my mind. I met with my friend Dr Mathews Phosa and Dr Imtiaz Sooliman of Gift of the Givers to discuss how this problem of continued deaths could be targeted. In this meeting, it was Dr Sooliman who opened my eyes to the fact that Kilimanjaro has an estimated 35 000–50 000 visitors annually and the Park earns roughly $50 million a year. With that said, if the Park is concerned about the number of deaths on the mountain, it should be their duty to utilise a small portion of funds generated to perhaps convert one hut on each route, midway up the mountain, into a small medical unit. This would create jobs for young doctors in the country who could work on rotation during peak seasons. Climbers could even be charged a nominal fee as an added extra.
In our meeting, Dr Sooliman also helped me realise that if climbers are able to cover the costs of this bucket-list adventure they are not poverty-stricken. With that said, I accepted that it was unfortunate that Gugs passed away due to high-altitude pulmonary edema (HAPE) while climbing, that there was no facility on the mountain to stabilise him, no vehicle to take him down and no helicopter to assist with evacuation. I realised that the world has many other problems. Poverty, hunger and disease are dire calamities. And so I decided to focus my energies on helping the less fortunate. As a way of doing my bit and extending a hand, I have given my time to various initiatives, campaigns and organisations for those in need, among them Kids Kicking Cancer South Africa, Special Olympics South Africa, Caring For Girls (sanitary towels to underprivileged girls), Redbull Wings for Life (spinal cord research) and Clover Krush School Shoe Donations to children in poverty-stricken areas.
Death be not proud, so I do hope that one day Kilimanjaro National Park finds a solution to reduce the number of deaths on the mountain. We lost Gugs and many other climbers, but I truly hope that other families are spared this tragedy.
As milestones come and go, it hits me little by little, and I realise more and more that he isn’t physically by my side. The day I received Lelethu’s first pre-school report, he wasn’t there to share my excitement; on tough days, when she isn’t in the mood to co-operate, I tear up knowing that if he were still here we would share the responsibilities. I think the first time it might fully sink in will be the day I move on and settle down with a new life partner, God willing.
The fact, however, remains that I only have one life. My grieving is a part of this life, but it does not have to consume all of it. The truth is that his passing was the full stop to the end of our love story. It’s my choice to either stay on that page, staring at the dot, or turn the page and accept my new life without his physical presence.
When people ask, “What is life about? Why are we here?” I often wonder why they don’t see what is apparent in plain sight. Life is, by definition, experience. Said another way, anything you can experience is what life is about. So, in order to live a full and meaningful life, we need to immerse ourselves in experiences and open ourselves up to enjoying them in the ways that are unique to each one of us.
We don’t live once – we live every day. We die once. So, until then, I have chosen to engage with life in a way that creates my inner bliss.
Since my beloved Gugs passed, countless people have asked me what my secret is to getting my life back on track and thriving in the face of tragedy and adversity. It’s very simple: I choose to live. And in choosing life, I am becoming stronger than I ever thought possible.