At the beginning of March, a group of our scholars, who had journeyed already halfway around the globe, learning and discoursing with changemakers and thought leaders, found themselves huddling for warmth at the base camp of the tallest mountain in Africa, Kilimanjaro. Nestled under the imposing, dormant volcano, without access to cell phones or social media, the group had come together in a way that otherwise would have been unimaginable, playing chess, discussing the year behind and the year ahead, and commiserating in all the ways the mountain was humbling them. Not a single person on the trip did not suffer from altitude sickness or find themselves bent over double from exhaustion. Not a single person went without the help of others. This, perhaps, is what the Baret year can do: make you a global citizen, yes, provide you with a journey around the world, yes, but most of all, teach the value of humility in the face of all the challenges the world can throw at you.

Our scholars and Fellows, Sammi Bennett and Daniel Weiser, were not alone, but accompanied a group of expert guides and porters, vetted by Sammi, who enabled them to not only climb the mountain but learn it. "Kilimanjaro" may originate from the Chagga calling the mountain unclimbable—kilemanjaare or kilemajyaro—and explorers misinterpreting this as its name. The mountain’s etymology relies on kileme, "that which defeats", or kilelema, "that which has become difficult or impossible,” The -jaro could be derived from njaare, a bird, or jyaro, a caravan. On the minds of our scholars was perhaps the spirit of adventure imparted by Nicholas Dubreuil, an explorer and one of our Morning Program speakers, who counseled our scholars to take risks and follow their passions. Our caravan, exhausted but cheerful in each other’s company, were persisting under the shadow of this mountain.

On the day they were to summit, the scholars and fellows woke at 11pm, already exhausted from days of hiking. They knew that the final summit hike would be grueling, but some of them may have fantasized that they would be able to make the trip up without substantial difficulty. But what they found, even before they began their final push to the summit, was that on a mountain like Kilimanjaro, everyone needed support. The Fellowship was asked by their guides if they would prefer to summit in groups, letting some more able hikers go ahead, but the scholars, in what we might call a Baret moment, insisted on summiting together. In the words of one, it was never going to be “I summited” – it would be “we summited.”

Slogging through sleet as the temperature dropped precipitously, the scholars struggled to breathe and stay awake. But this was not something to complain about or be vexed by. As our scholar Paige put it, this was what Baret offered: the opportunity to take on and overcome challenges that they would not have been able to overcome alone.

As they summited Uhuru Peak, the sun began to come up, washing the mountain in light, and for a half hour, looking down on the tops of clouds, which Fellow Daniel Weiser said he even mistook for mountains for a moment, they celebrated, hugging, crying, delirious with joy. And then they began the descent, only to find the most challenging part of the experience was not summiting the peak, but climbing down: for eleven hours they fought their way down the mountain through sleet and rain, exhausted from their trip up, practically falling asleep standing up. To get to the bottom felt in some ways like as much of a triumph to get to the top. Along the way, their amazing guides and porters, fully acclimated to the heights, sang, danced, and encouraged our scholars.

To turn this experience into a metaphor about triumph and perseverance would be too simple, because although our scholars and Fellows did achieve something in climbing Kilimanjaro, what they really found on its slopes and at its peak was each other: community, support, love. What makes Baret special is, after all, not the challenge of journeying around the world, not the difficulty of being away from home or the novelty of new places, but the experience of shared humanity: meeting others, learning about not only their culture but each person’s unique and deeply personal life.

What our scholars say they will remember is not only the summit, not only piercing the clouds and looking down on the world, but the hugs they gave each other, the tears they shed, and the way the mountain humbled them in front of each other. Our scholars can say they have met those challenges, set aside their pride, and been there to pull each other up, and that they will do so again without thinking, because there is no better feeling than being there for someone you care about.

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