Discoveries and Musings on Mount Longido

On Saturday morning, we packed up the car and began the short drive to Longido, the third town on my itinerary. Unlike Kiserian, Longido was a proper thoroughfair for tourists and locals in Tanzania. The town, I was told, had its roots in colonial times as a home base for the German occupiers. Thus, remnants of colonial structures and old wagon trails could be found in corners of the village, if you knew where to look. Now, Longido was situated on one of the most travelled routes in Northern Tanzania, linking the trade centers of Arusha and Nairobi, and the last major rest stop for truckers before entering Kenya. But by far the most distinctive aspect of Longido is its mountain, a 2,600 meter lump of earth rising dramatically from the savanna, a popular hiking destination in the area. Although I was no ordinary tourist, the mountain also held significance for me; as warm moisture rises, it tends to collect on the higher points and allow for a more lush ecosystem than the underlying savanna. These unique trees were then, of course, used by the local population as medicine. 

Beginning the climb of Mt. Longido from the savanna below

I embarked on two separate hikes in Longido. The first was a thorough examination of the surrounding flatlands for medicinal plants, ending in a short hike up the mountain to a cave historically used for rituals and medicine preparation. Already I was amazed at the wonders the extra moisture worked on the land-- around the cave grew huge sycamores, enormous arpande, and even several willow trees who’s roots tried their best to trip us as we made our way up the rugged path. The trunks of these trees were large, green, and thick with capillary veins, transporting gallons of water to the flashing green canopy above. These trees were the well-fed counterparts of their cousins on the savanna below, their privilege on the mountain gaining them amounts of water that the thirsty acacias could never dream of. 

Maasai name: Orkolili. The abundance of water allows for the production of bigger and greener leaves for easier sunlight access.

All this water created perfect conditions for the production of sap, a resource used copiously by the Maasai of Longido. When we reached a tree, my guide would slash it open with his machete, exposing the red, white, or green interior. Soon after, the sap would begin to pour; to be used as a substitute for water, as a healing ointment, or as a chewable gum. Whereas sap medicine must often be cut from the water-storing roots of savanna plants, on Mt. Longido the trunks yielded this crucial liquid instead. On the second day, we travelled further up the mountain until we reached a proper waterfall. This time of year it yielded little more than a trickle. But in the rainy season, I could easily see how the water would be transformed into a roaring torrent which would sate the thirst of the plants on and off the mountain, filling the many thousands of now-empty streambeds in the red African bush. 

If embarking on a trip into Africa, there is no tool I recommend more than a LifeStraw. It was only now that I truly appreciated possessing such an item, and as we relaxed near the waterfall, I amazed my guides as I slurped freely from even the most algae-ridden pools. As my three friends enjoyed themselves experimenting with the magical straw, I ventured up the waterfall on a short expedition alone. 

Osumateki sap, used for the treatment of cuts and wounds.

The whole of Africa seemed to stretch out before me as I neared the top. Previously my views always ended in the hills of Mount Kilimanjaro, or Meru. But here, on this cloudless day, I imagined I could see all the way to Kenya, to the Sahara, to the great pyramids of Egypt. On a windless day like this one, I could hear the cowbells and the shouting of children down below, like little ants. Standing at such a vantage point, it was easy to see how the ordinary foreigner might believe Africa a place lacking in diversity. Many of the trees shared long thorns, small leaves, and flat tops to protect from the elements and from the beasts that roamed these lands. But if this trip had taught me anything, It was that every single tree, bush, and shrub was vastly different from the next. All one had to do was crush the leaves to smell the scent, boil the bark to extract the juice, or cut the trunk of an ordinary tree to watch the serum of life and health burst from within. 

Even the most unassuming plant can hold great medicinal importance for locals, such as this Armargirigiriani leaf used for cleaning blood.