(Republished, with permission, from a blog by SoulinAfrica)

On 11 September 2001 I was supposed to be in Ethiopa – my first assignment in that country for the NGO I was working for.  But African visas put paid to that.  An Ethiopian visa took up a full page and with half a page left in my passport,  it wasn’t going to fit.   So my Ethiopian trip was put on hold pending my new passport, which, prior to 9/11, could be issued in Nairobi in a week.

Not wanting to waste the moment I decided to visit the Arusha project instead.  The cheapest and best way to get there from Nairobi was by bus. Apart from the fact that Arusha airport is a long way from town, flights in Africa, especially short hops, are expensive.

The bus began its journey to Tanzania in the centre of Nairobi. From there it made its way to the Mombasa Road, stopping at the international airport before turning right towards the border post at Namanga two hours away.

Being the second stop, the bus was over half full when I got on at 8.20 am.  Clean, fairly comfortable and comparatively safe, it was popular with tourists heading for the southern safari circuit and locals doing cross border business.  I chose an aisle seat near the front next to a young man who turned out to be American.  The date was 10 September.

Given the five hour journey ahead, we inevitably got chatting.  My American neighbour was heading for Kilimanjaro.  After a night in a hotel he was due to set out early on September 11 to begin the first day of a seven day trek to the summit and back.  We said our goodbyes when I got off in Arusha while he continued to Moshi. 

I returned to Nairobi the next day and was fortunate to be home by 4.30 pm.  As usual I turned on the World Service and was instantly transfixed by what I was hearing.  I switched on the TV only to witness the second plane crash.  Horrifying.

My thoughts and sympathies were of course with the US and the Americans who were suffering this dreadful attack.  I thought about the American I had met on the bus the day before, knowing that he would be resting after a hard day on the mountain.  When would he hear about this I wondered?

In 2001 mobile phones were few and far between in East Africa and I doubt there were any telecoms masts on Kilimanjaro.  Which meant that my American friend was out of reach.  The next chance he had to meet other climbers  would probably be in the morning, and they were likely to be going down. But how long would it take, I wondered, before the news got through on the ‘bush telegraph’?

I could only speculate.  As the American ascended the mountain the few people he was likely to meet would be those going down. It was possible I suppose, that he would be overtaken by walkers who had started out on September 12, but unlikely.  So logic told me that he would only hear about the attacks on his way down, from fellow walkers on the way up – maybe three days away?

But this was big news – the American mainland attacked – bigger than anything since the death of JFK, at least for Americans, and maybe bigger than anything since Pearl Harbour. Would news of this magnitude, without the internet and mobile phones, race up the mountain faster than a man could walk?

Today I still ask that question. So if you were stuck up Kilimanjaro on September 11 2001, on the first day of your ascent, please let me know when you heard about the attacks on New York and Washington.  How fast was the famous bush telegraph during that tumultuous time?