The Perils of Procrastination

Now for a dose of exam-time randomness - below is an article I wrote on effective time management.

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There’s a mountain of stuff you need to get done, and you’ve finally found the time to do it. But more often than not in a situation like this, you find yourself putting that work off until that precious time you had is gone.

 “Oh well,” you say with a small shrug of your shoulders. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Procrastination is the natural enemy of productivity.

It’s almost normal for us to turn to more enjoyable activities when we’re faced with something important to do, or something that requires a little bit of muscle flexing by the mind. 

Time is valuable, so in this article, I'll explore how you can get more value from your hours.  

The first step is to admit you have a problem. There’s nothing worse than fooling yourself by saying you know what you’re doing when really, you don’t.

Once you’ve pleaded guilty to procrastinating, the next step is to find the reasons behind your putting-off of tasks. Is it because I can’t stand the sight of paperwork? Or is it because I just don’t know where to start? Maybe it’s because I’m just not motivated to get these things done.

By identifying why you procrastinate, you can come up with the most effective strategies to kill the habit.

So now you know why do what you do, the next step is to adopt, with open arms, the best strategy:

If you struggle for motivation, tell yourself that after you finish a certain task, you will  treat yourself with a little incentive.

"I’ll eat the left overs of that butter chicken in the fridge if and only if I complete that sociology essay." Or I’ll only watch another episode of Breaking Bad after those forms are filled.   

Another useful strategy is to eat an elephant beetle first thing every morning. No, don’t worry. We’re not telling you to start feasting on exotic insects for breakfast just yet.

Eating an elephant beetle means to tackle your yuckiest, most difficult task first up. The philosophy is simple – once that’s out of the way, everything else will seem like a piece of cake.

And remember, the mind is freshest early in the morning, so take advantage of it!

If it's organization (or a lack of it) that’s making you procrastinate, then pull up your socks up and smarten up. Have a to-do list posted somewhere you can access easily and check things off with a flourish once you’ve got them out of the way.

Also, try to prioritize your tasks so know what needs to be done before what. Setting time-bound goals is another effective strategy. Tell yourself that by 3:00 PM, this inventory will be done and dusted – no excuses.

Finally, if you’re putting tasks off because you just don’t know where to start and are overwhelmed by the mountain that stands before you, try breaking things down into smaller, more digestible chunks, and then tackle each one as it comes.

The last time I tried, I failed miserably in my attempt to devour a twelve-inch sub in one bite.

If you don’t like the taste of elephant beetles, then start your day with something small and easy. That way you’ll feel like you’re getting things done, and you’ll carry momentum through your tasks.

Lastly, just think of how much better you’ll feel after you have finished something that’s been nagging you for weeks.

That ‘it’s-finally-off-my-chest’ feeling is pure magic, and you know it.

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References:

http://www.mindtools.com/

http://www.prioritytime.ca/

CURATORS OF SWEDEN @Sweden

Have you heard about Sweden's new social media initiative?

It's called Curators of Sweden, and it's pretty darn cool. Here's how it works:

Every week, a new citizen of the country get's handed the cyber keys to Sweden's official Twitter account, @Sweden. According to the project's website, the chosen candidate can tweet on just about anything - from things to do in Sweden, to their own diverse opinions and ideas.

"Every week, someone in Sweden is @Sweden: sole ruler of the world's most democratic Twitter account," the website cheekily explains.

The idea is the brainchild of VisitSweden, the government's official tourist agency, and the Swedish Institution, a public agency that seeks to promote the country to the world.

Of course, chosen curators have to abide by Twitter's wafer-thin posting rules and not post anything criminal in nature. But apart from that, curators can post whatever their hearts wishes.

To name a few, so far we've heard from a 60-year-old retired journalist, a high-school student, a Muslim woman who practices law, a bus driver from Stockholm, and others from very different walks of life.

In 140 characters at a time, we've gotten a glimpse of what their Sweden is like. They can post pictures and followers of @Sweden can ask questions to the current curator, leading to interesting public discussions.

I think it's a brilliant way to showcase a country's diversity. It shows that there really nothing really like a 'typical' resident of a country, and celebrates the diversity of a nation.

A couple of days ago, 27-year-old Sonja Abrahamsson, this weeks custodian, raised some discussion about censorship when she Tweeted about Jews and gays.

Below is one of Sonja's Tweets. Here are a few more of her eyebrow-raising comments.

After receiving some disapproving messages from a few of her follows, she posted an apology and clarified that she didn't intend to offend anyone.

I'm guessing it's a pretty sizeable responsibility to represent your country on the international stage, and this little experiment is just that.

When asked by the Wall Street Journal in a phone interview, the social media manager of VisitSweden,  Tommy Sollen, said it was essential that the project gave everyone room to express their opinions.

"It's very important for us to let everyone take a unique viewpoint," Sullen said. "Every one of our curators is there with a different perspective."

Maybe introducing a little bit of censorship could make the project more professional, but it's kind of cool how it is right now - raw and original.

Overall, I think Curators of Sweden is a pretty neat initiative which is out-of-the-box and different.

OH RAMEEZ

I read the original article bashing the commentary of Rameez Raja on theunrealtimes.com, an Indian website known for publishing spoofs and parodies on cricket and politics.

Hats off to the author for a witty and thoroughly enjoyable piece of writing!

Below is my humble contribution to all those who are united in the belief that Rameez Raja is an awful, awful commentator.
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Commentator Rameez Raja was docked 50% of his salary on Monday after yet another painful stint of commentary during India's stunning win against Pakistan over the weekend.

As Virat Kohli waltzed to yet another splendid century against a high-quality Pakistani bowling attack, all Raja could conjure up on air was, "He's looking as Kohli as a cucumber," causing fellow commentator Sunil Gavaskar to bury his head in shame and not say another word for the rest of the match.

This is not the first time Raja has been penalized for his commentary. In 2007 he was officially warned by the ICC when his commentating of an India versus Sri Lanka encounter forced nearly half the viewers to switch to The Paint Grower's Channel.

But on Sunday, patience was running low for viewers at home as well. Pankaj Singh, a software engineer from Punjab, said he almost did damage to his television after listening to Raja rant about cucumbers and bullets on air.

"All I wanted to do was enjoy my weekend by staying home and watching some cricket," said a visibly distressed Singh, a father of two who retired from cricket after dropping the same batsman thrice in one over while fielding at long-on.

"I almost put a shoe through my TV when Raja started commentating - good thing my cousin was there to stop me or else I would have had to buy a new one."

Singh said he ended up muting his television set and left the commentating to his three-year-old daughter, who he said did a better job than Raja.

But with reports coming in that Raja is working extra hard on improving his commentary, things could be looking up.

While his fellow commentators enjoyed a round of golf at the scenic Kurmitola Golf Club in Dhaka on Monday, Raja opted to stay inside the media box at the Sher-e-Bangla Stadium and practice his commentating.

"How does Ravi Shastri sound so cool on air?" he was heard muttering furiously before attempting several versions of, "that went to the fence faster than a tracer bullet," eventually causing a smattering of crows on the outfield to scatter in alarm.

Aussie commentating king Richie Benaud said that Raja needed to focus on the basics of calling the game, and perhaps try saying it instead of spraying it.

"Commentating is like bowling," Benaud said in his trademark calm and reassuring voice. "You've got to maintain a consistent line and length that always keeps the batsman interested."

"Right now Rameez is all over the place - he's bowling wides and no-balls - perhaps he's just in the middle of a really bad spell."

With the IPL just around the corner, cricket fans can expect some relief to their ears as Ravi Shastri will once again grace the mic during the eight week cricket bonanza.

A Cobbler’s Tale

Cobbling. It’s a word that’s wouldn’t look out of place in a 17^th century Old English dictionary. But for 45-year-old Paul Lavigne, it’s what he does for a living.

Born and raised in the pocket-sized town of Mattawa near North Bay, Lavigne is the owner of Moneysworth and Best, a shoe repair service at the Billings Bridge shopping centre. 

Lavigne moved to Ottawa when he was 20 years old, and was introduced to cobbling when he found a job at a shoe repair store in Rideau Centre. 

He worked there for five years before becoming the regional manager of Moneysworth & Best in Eastern Ontario, whose head office was in Toronto. But two years later the opportunity arose to buy a store in Ottawa, and Lavigne took the chance with both hands. 

“The company was downsizing and that’s when I purchased this store here,” he said “I’ve been working in my own business now for almost 15 years.”

Lavigne said it’s been an exciting journey for him, and that business is flourishing for his shop in this small, yet bustling mall.

“It’s different every day, we’re always getting something different so it’s a challenge – it’s not boring,” Lavigne said.  “I think we’re very lucky, being in a small shopping mall that the business is doing very well.”

Married for the better part of 17 years, Lavigne has no children but is the proud owner of two cats.

“Cats are cheaper,” he explained. “They listen and don’t talk back,” he added with a laugh.

Some family tree searching by Lavigne’s father found that footwear related professions seem to run in their blood - at least distantly.

“It’s funny, my dad did some family history research on our family and he found that our great-great-great grandfather came from France, and he was a shoemaker there,” Lavigne said.

With the help of Roeun Luy, his lone trusty assistant, Lavigne said the store easily treats 300-400 pairs of shoes every week, with the most common kind of mending being done to heels.

In his 20 odd years of cobbling, Lavigne has encountered many odd things, not the least of which was changing the colour of a piece of lingerie for an adventurous party-goer.

“I’ve dyed a corset for a woman a long time ago for a Halloween costume,” Lavigne said with a small chuckle. “That’s been the strangest thing I’ve ever done.”

Lavigne feels that in this day and age, technology adds to the challenge of mending shoes.

“It’s a little harder,” he said. “You got to really adapt to the new stuff that’s coming out and be more open-minded when you’re fixing stuff.”

“It’s not as easy as it used to be 20 years ago, the shoes are not made the same, the quality is not the same so you got to figure out ways around it.”

According to Lavigne the business of mending shoes is going to continue to strive, seeing that consumers have pulled their purse strings just that little bit tighter.

“I think it’s going to stay strong because people seem to be watching their money more,” Lavigne said. “I find that people come to check to see what it would cost to fix their stuff before they go out and buy new things.”

He feels it wouldn’t be a bad idea if post-secondary schools started introducing cobbling into their programs.

“It would be nice to see a college come out with the trade to teach people how to do this,” Lavigne said.

“I have customers who complain all the time that there’s not enough shoe repair and there aren’t enough people who know how to do it.”

So what’s the secret to keeping that favourite pair of shoes in tip-top shape?

“Make sure they’re always clean, protected, and polished,” Lavigne said. “Just making sure the soles and the heels are always maintained - you do that you can keep them forever.”

As Lavigne pours glue into the heels of a pair of Uggs, a woman hustles into the store, clutching a bag with three pairs of shoes crammed into it. 

THE SHAWARMA GUY

Despite its rather dingy ambiance, the Shawarma Byte restaurant found on the corner of King Edward Street has a certain liveliness about it.

A few minutes inside and the reason becomes apparent – employee Hassan Hannoon rushes busily back and forth behind the counter, serving hungry students from neighbouring OttawaU fresh shawarmas, a traditional Arabic sandwich.

“And what can I get you, amigo?” he asks a customer, holding his hands out over a sumptuous looking array of pickles, tomatoes, garlic sauce and the like, while a massive mountain of meat roasts merrily on a spit behind him.

The better part of 29 years of age, Hannoon moved to Ottawa eight years ago from his hometown of Nablus, on the West Bank in Palestine.

“I came here to get myself educated and start a new life,” he says. Hannoon got a bachelor’s degree in computer science from Carleton University before going on to get himself a master’s in biomedical engineering, graduating earlier this year.

Currently he works as a software tester at Optimal Payments, a money transfer services firm, and also works part-time at Shawarma Byte.

Hannoon says that it’s all about presentation when it comes to making shawarmas.

“We have a saying in Arabic that goes like, ‘It is the eyes that are going to eat before the mouth,’” he says with a broad smile.

“If the food looks good then really, it doesn’t matter how tasty it’s going to be. But if it looks bad from the start, then even if it tastes good no one is going to like it!”

As is the case with many immigrants like himself, moving to Canada was a big decision for Hannoon. He came here alone, without his family, but with hopes of getting educated, finding work, and settling down.

“What I love about Canada is that you can write your own future here,” Hannoon says.

“You know what’s out there so you can plan a future for yourself and work towards it. Sometimes even if you don’t get 100% there, you get close,” he adds.

He attributes the common phenomenon of ‘culture shock’ as the biggest hurdle in settling down to his new life in Canada.

“For me the hardest part about getting used to life here was adapting to the culture,” Hannoon says, glancing outside at the direction of a nearby bar where the sounds of a promising party seem to be brewing

“For example back home in Palestine drinking alcohol is not a very common thing to do. But over here it is almost like a norm. Everybody is doing it and it is all around you.”

He says language too was an obstacle.

“Learning the language was tough as well. When I came here I knew only a little bit of English and it took some time to learn it fully. Although I still have a pretty strong accent!” Hannoon says, his rich Arab accent more obvious than ever.

The burly Palestinian admits he is still momma’s boy, saying that his mother is what he misses most about home.

“Cooking and food and all of that you can get by. But your mother, you know, you can never forget - that’s what I miss the most,” Hannoon says, his voice faltering ever so slightly.

Hannoon dreams of moving back to Nablus one day, but for now, he feels he is not yet ready.

“I want to make sure I have something to go back to,” he says.

“I’m planning on getting a house there and things like that so when I go back, I have something ready there for myself.”

Are there any plans for a Mrs. Hannoon in his life any time soon, and maybe a few junior Hannoons?

He laughs softly, saying, “Soon inshallah (Arabic for ‘God willing’).”

“Hopefully in the next year or two I plan on getting married and starting a family.”

As Hannoon returns to the counter to serve another customer, a rugged looking youth with extra baggy jeans, he smiles genuinely and asks, “Good evening sir, mutton or chicken?”

KILIMANJARO '11

June 27 - July 2, 2011

Looking back at the trip of a lifetime - climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro with a group of nine cousins, aunts, uncles, mums, and brothers. We won't forget these six days in a hurry.

NOTE: There are a whole bunch of video blogs at the bottom of this post so if you're not much of a reader, I officially give you permission to skip to those now :)

Remember, if there's a text that happens to be dark brown-reddish in colour then there's a really good chance that when you click on it, a new tab will open on your web browser. It could be a wiki page. Or perhaps a photo. It could even be a video or piece of audio!

If you're impatient to see the pictures, here's my Kilimanjaro '11 photo album.

At the foot of the mountain

Day 1 - Marangu Gate to Mandara Huts

7.9 kilometers of tropical rain forest. Waterfalls, lush green vegetation, and the odd jaguar. OK maybe no jaguars.

The first leg of our climb was easy enough. Not too steep, beautiful scenery, and everyone was in good spirits, excited and rearing to go.

We reached Mandara Huts (2750 meters above sea level) at 5 in the evening and had dinner in the dining hall before getting into our sleeping bags and hitting the bunks.

The mist in Mandara is blinding. After sundown you'd be lucky to see anything ten feet in front of you.

Saw plenty of colobus monkeys in the trees around the huts before the mist set in. Beautiful creatures. Awfully vocal as well.

I wouldn't be doing a blog post on Mt. Kilimanjaro any kind of justice if I failed to mention the stars. Hundreds of millions of them, winking at you cheerfully with the occasional one flying past the others. Spellbinding.

We would walk 11.7 kilometers the next day to Horombo Huts.

Day 2- Mandara Huts to Horombo Huts

20 minutes into our hike to Horombo we left the South America-like terrain of the previous day behind and entered more open, airy conditions.

Less trees meant lesser protection from wind, bringing blowing dust into the equation.

A little while later Mawenzi Peak (5149 meters above sea level) was visible on our right and directly in front of us, albeit in the distance, we got our first sight of Uhuru Peak - the snow-capped summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro. Although it was playing hide and seek behind the clouds, it was a good feeling seeing our ultimate goal as we trudged on.

Three hours in we stopped at a picnic spot for lunch. At this point we were virtually above the clouds.

Another three hours and many hills later, the green-tinned roofs of Horombo Huts (3700 meters above sea level) were a welcome sight. Horombo would be our home for the next two nights, with one extra day for acclimatizing to the altitude.

My Taazim khaala (aunt) calls Horombo "a piece of heaven." Indeed with the clouds blanketing the horizon on one side, and the peak of Kilimanjaro looming over us on the other, Horombo is a special place.

At night, the lights of Moshi shine like tiny luminescent ants down below us.

Day 3- Acclimatising at Horombo with a day trip to Zebra Rocks

The extra day at Horombo was for our bodies to get used to the thin air we'd be breathing for the next 48 hours.

An optional trek to Zebra Rocks (4000 meters above sea level) was open to us if we were up to it. The rocks are about 1.5 kilometers from Horombo. As its name suggests, Zebra Rocks are a series of rocks that are coloured like the stripes of a zebra.

Five of us decided to go, while the rest opted to chill at the huts.

Me and my mum were feeling good so at 10 AM, we joined the others to go see the only zebra on the mountain. It was a good workout getting to the Rocks and photo opportunities were aplenty once there.

Back in time for lunch at Horombo ("Zucchini soup!"), the rest of the day was spent relaxing and playing Uno in the huts. My cousins can testify that I am the most consistent Uno player on the planet. I finished fifth in virtually every game we played.

There were always five players playing.

Day 4- Horombo Huts to Kibo Huts

Refreshed and ready to go, we set out for the last hut on our route early in the morning.

The nine point something kilometers from Horombo to Kibo Huts (4750 meters above sea level) is characterized by a patch known as The Saddle. This is a long, barren stretch of land that leads us into Kibo's huts.

The Saddle is so long it can be seen from space.

It's almost as if you're walking on another planet. There is no vegetation (stuff can't grow this high up), and the bone dry, desert-like surroundings drains you of any happy thoughts that may have been swimming in your mind. There's lots of blowing dust as well, so balaclavas are a help on The Saddle.

On either side, the barren land goes on as far as the eye can see. Probably the best thing to do is to keep your eyes on the snowy summit ahead of you. Or, as my Yassir mamu (uncle) would say, "Keep looking at the boots of the person in front of you."

This is his third climb up Kili and he has successfully reached Uhuru on both of his previous attempts.

An hour after we stopped for some lunch (served on a few boulders with rats scuttling around us), we could see Kibo Huts in the distance. It was one, long, silver roofed hut which lay right at the foot of the final accent passage.

But the problem is that Kibo just does not come. You can see it, its right there, but it doesn't look closer no matter how long you think you've walked. After a while one of us asked a guide how much longer to Kibo.

"Oh about an hour more," he replied with a completely straight face.

At long last, we reached Kibo. Since we passed the Last Water Point on our way, there is no running water here.

"Depressing," is what many people describe the place as. For me, Kibo will be etched into my memory by one noise and one noise only: the sound of vomit hitting the bottom of a plastic bowl.

We're only in Kibo for a handful of hours in which we're supposed to rest before the final accent at midnight, but a few of us decided to spend those precious seven or so hours vomiting like there's no tomorrow.

At 4750 meters above sea level, altitude was beginning to take its toll on us. You lose your appetite, and only feel like eating fruits. Even water is hard to drink at Kibo.

I wasn't feeling sick. But rather, I was a touch nervous for the final accent which we would embark on in a few hours time. Would I be able to make it? Would we be able to make it?

My thoughts went to a scene we had witnessed on day two of our trip. We were on the way to Horombo when some commotion ahead of us caught our attention. A climber, not much older than myself, was being rushed down by a bunch of porters on a rickety stretcher.

He looked dea- OK, maybe not that, but he seemed awfully clammy. The only cure for altitude sickness is, quite simply, to come down to lower grounds.

I wasn't sure how my body would take to the thinness of the air I was breathing. So far, I hadn't thrown up or felt sick during the climb. But the final accent is supposed to be super steep, and we're going much higher as well.

Sleep doesn't come easy on Kibo either. Our porters would wake us at 11 PM to serve us tea and biscuits before we leave for the summit.

Its hard to rest when there are so many thoughts going through your mind. It doesn't help either when theres the constant noise of retching, followed by sick hitting plastic echoing around the cold hut.

Diamox made me go to the loo thrice that night. With the aid of a headlight, I crept outside into the freezing cold to go answer several calls from nature.

Oh, and just for the record, on a scale of 1 to 10 -with 1 being the dirtiest and 10 being the cleanest - I would rate the bathrooms of Kibo Hut somewhere between -30 and -45.

At long last, 11 PM came. Head cook Peter knocked on our door before coming in with a steaming thermos and a platter of Mary biscuits.

We dressed in silence, putting on layer upon layer. It gets cold on the peak, around -20 Celsius cold.

Day 5- Final accent at midnight to the summit

At exactly midnight, we began climbing. Under the cover of darkness and a brilliantly starlit sky, we made our way up through sand and volcanic scree.

Head guide John was at the front while assistant guides Fustin and Seyyedi flanked our sides. Assistant guide Tom held the anchor.

If any of us were to come down early, we would be accompanied all the way back to Kibo by a guide.

It's around five hours to Gilman's Point (5681 meters above sea level), which is the first real landmark en-route to Uhuru Peak. You get a certificate for reaching Gilman's, and it's where most climbers reach before turning back.

I would divide the climb to Gilman's into two parts: strenuous climbing up steep sand dunes (one-way sand dunes that is), and tricky, potentially dangerous climbing through jagged rocks.

Since The Scree is so steep, we move upwards by zig-zagging through the sand instead of going straight up. It's always a demoralizing sight when you see the headlights of climbers high above you. Better to keep your head down and focus on the task at hand.

As a group, we tried to keep eachothers morales up by chirping encouragement like we had done all trip long. But on the final accent, its much harder. Everyone's already breathless and wasting valuable energy in opening your mouth seems pointless.

Me and Kumayl (my cousin) managed to keep a conversation afloat for two whole minutes before it gradually evaporated into the thin mountain air.

This is where the guides come into play. John began singing classical swahili tourist songs on the top of his voice. The Jambo Bwana song seemed to be a personal favorite of his.

At Kibo, we divided all the chocolate we had into nine so that each of us had enough sugar going around for the final accent. Its recommended to carry something that can give you a quick energy boost while climbing through the last stretch. We had chocolate and peanut butter flavored PowerBars, pieces of pure milk Cadbury, and Snicker bars in our arsenal.

Williams Point was the first landmark we passed. No idea how high up that is but it was about an hour after we left Kibo. Then we passed what is known as the halfway point to Gilman's: Handsmeyer's Cave, notoriously known as Muhindi's (Indian's) Point. It's called Indian's point because apparently, all Indians come this far before turning back to Kibo.

This group of Indians weren't stopping here. No sir we weren't.

The guides served us lemon tea a little while after Handsmeyer's. I only had a couple of sips before devouring a peanut butter PowerBar.

So once the sand bit was done, our group got divided into two. Since our pace was good, me, my brother, and two of our cousins went ahead with assistant guide Fustin while my mum and the others stayed back and advanced at a more slow rate with head guide John and Seyedee.

I began hallucinating once we were started the rock climbing. I could have sworn I saw gloves and scarves lying on nearby rocks and on a couple of occasions, I would tell my brother ahead of me, "Ammar, you left your mittens he- never mind."

My cousin claims he forgot the name of our guide for ten full minutes.

Fustin was superb. He guided us expertly up the steep rocks, placing each step carefully. He would scold us if we took a step that wasn't following his.

This is where most of the deaths on the mountain take place. Rock slides and people falling over the cliffs. You can see the cliffs above you, where Gilman's Point is, but just like Kibo, it just does not come.

We reached Gilman's exactly at fajr time - 5:20 AM. Fustin gave us rough handshakes and quick one armed hugs in congratulations.

My cousin Maytham suggested we pray fajr at Gilman's. I told him kindly, in a fatherly sort of way, that he was delusional and that he should perhaps smash his head on one of the nearby boulders.

Thinking back, we could have prayed our salaat. In conditions like that, we need not have removed our boots and in the absence of water, tayyummum (ablution on earth when no water is available) could have been done on the sand.

But instead we took a three minute breather and some chocolate before telling Fustin, "Piga Uhuru Peak bwana!"

The two kilometer climb from Gilman's to Uhuru Peak (5895 meters above sea level) is much easier than pre-Gilman's. It's less steep and we're mainly navigating through large alpine rocks up a gentle slope.

Fustin started quickly, darting through the rocks. We actually had to tell him to slow down a bit but little did we know that he had a plan in mind - he wanted to get us to the peak for sunrise.

An hour later we saw our first set of glaciers -an awe-inspiring sight. Massive houses of ice, rising hundreds of feet into the air on a backdrop of cotton-candy-like clouds.

200 feet from Uhuru we got the sunrise Fustin wanted to us to see. It was a stunning moment, seeing the sun, a fiery ball of light, rising slowly from the clouds below us.

Ammar and Kumayl were the first to reach Africa's highest point. I was slow because I was having trouble breathing. Every ten steps I would stop, breathing deeply through my nose and exhaling from my mouth. I had a guide with me, asking me if I had a headache or felt like throwing up - common symptoms of altitude sickness - but I didn't feel any of that. I was just a little out of breath, which is normal when you're this high up.

But all of that is worth it once you reach that famous black and yellow signboard. The view from Uhuru Peak is, quite simply, magical.

We took pictures with the signboard - individual shots, pictures as a group, with our guides. There were other climbers there as well, those who had made it before us and others were still on their way.

View from the summit

We hoped that mum and the others were amongst those still on their way. It's not recommended to stay more than 20 minutes on the peak, due to the lack of oxygen up there, but we dawdled as long as we could, looking for a sign from the rest.

Finally, we decided to start coming down. But just as we had come to this decision, we saw my mum in the distance with a guide for company. Shortly behind her was my Taazim khala with Yassir mamu and another one of my cousins, who had been super sick from Kibo, not too far behind them.

We cheered them on all the way to the signboard, enveloping them in big hugs on the way. After pictures and video blogs, we began going down.

It had been nearly 40 minutes on Africa's rooftop for us four who had made it early. We were out of breath all the way down, occasionally sitting down on the rocks and gasping for air.

The way down to Kibo is a pain. Its steep, you're already so tired, and the sun is mercilessly beating down on you.

We literally ran down the sand dune part - its so steep you cant just walk down the way you came up.

Finally back at Kibo at round 9 AM, Peter greeted us with an ice cold glass of pineapple juice. God bless that guy. We were so tired that as soon as we reached Kibo, we just took off our shoes and went to sleep in our bunks.

That sleep you get at Kibo... its as if you're knocked out cold. Literally, your head hits the pillow and you're gone.

So the plan was that the porters would let us sleep for a couple of hours before waking us up for lunch, and then starting our trek back down to Horombo Huts.

Being well above 4000 meters above sea level, its not suggested that you sleep at Kibo Hut for too long. You'll go to sleep "moja ka moja" (one way, straight), the guides and porters will tell you.

At 1 PM we began our descent to Horombo. The Saddle on the way back is much easier because you're rested to a certain extent and more importantly, the group was in high spirits. Everyone was making fun of each other, cracking jokes and reminding each other how we used to barf .

We reached Horombo at 4 PM and had an early dinner before going to sleep. We would go all the way back down to Marangu Gate the next day.

Day 6- Whatever goes up must come down!

Jogging is probably the best way to go down the mountain. It's steep, and theres no point testing your knees by braking regularly.

We passed Mandara Huts at 11 AMish and stopped for lunch halfway to Marangu Gate. At 3 PM, we were back where it all started five eventful days ago.

Had it really been five days already? It seemed like just a couple of hours ago that we were all huddling around the Marangu Route sign for our first group picture.

Back at the Kilimanjaro National Park parking lot, we said our final goodbyes to the porters, cooks, and guides, who had served us magnificently during our climb. We tipped them each a decent amount before they sang us the famous Kilimanjaro Song (see video blog Day Six).

VLOGS (video blogs)

Day One -unarguably my worst vlog of the trip. i actually said "mandara route" instead of "marangu route." atrocious to the point of repulsive.

Day Two -getting there, but i held my ipod the wrong way!

Day Three -not bad, not bad at all. maybe the lack of company helped

Day Four -we're not on the move so its easier and Day Four part two - altitude probably getting to me.

Day Five -we did it! and Day Five take two wasn't too much better but i got some good moments.

Day Six -i tried to make it an oscar-acceptance-like speech but couldn't quite pull it off. the famous Kilimanjaro Song! our guides and porters were nothing short of amazing.

In case you missed it earlier, here's the link to my Kili photo album.

Us on the peak!