The Source of the Nile 4/16

February 12, 2003

Not many know this but only in Uganda can you raft the source of the Nile, and the water is very big. There are, I believe, four grade 5 rapids, which is the highest you can do, making it one of the most spectacular white-water rafting destinations in the world. I thought it would be a trip to try and conquer the Nile, seeing as I spent much time riding atop it in Egypt, where you would have to be nuts to swim in it. Well, the outcome? I now fear nothing in this world.

Dana and I reached Jinja, in South Eastern Uganda with no worries. The border crossing had been quick and painless, and I think they even undercharged me for my visa. Our bus let us off down the road and we got to take a boda boda (bike taxi) to the hostel laden down with our bags. Amazing how strong these skinny little dudes are. Stayed in town at the Backpackers the first night, chilling out with (we found out later) some of the rafters watching The Sixth Sense. It was nice to be in a traveller’s environment for a change.

The next morning we got a lift to the Nile River Explorers campsite, situated beside the mighty river Nile and Bujagali Falls and possibly one of the most beautiful places I’ve yet seen. The bar is perched atop a hill that offers a great view of all the surroundings, and the showers! One side, the one blocking prying eyes, is open and looks out onto the river. Of course, if you were to be swimming in the cove just down below you could get an eye full. I actually found a great game while swimming (ok, how cool is that? Swimming in the Nile?). There’s a rock that has a perfect hold for your left hand…you then shove your body into the rapids on your right side and wait till you feel the strongest pull on you feet. Then you shove off, pushing yourself into the rapids and ride it to the other end of the cove. Very fun.

So, as you can imagine, this place was incredible. We saw people we had met in Kenya; we had some Nile Special beers, hung out and chilled, not worrying about a thing. But the time had come. We had been there 2 days and need to go rafting. The NRE make videos of the rafting and it’s a ritual every night to watch them. It seemed ok to me; but I’m from the TV generation and should have known that what I witness on a TV screen will not actually register in my brain. But, really, it did look like fun. Everybody said it was fun….

We left early in the morn for town to meet our guide. There were only 4 of 3 girls, a big burly Aussie, making for a light raft and us. This meant nothing to me. Dave, whom we had watched the movie with, was to be the man of the hour/day (it’s 30 km of rafting and takes most of the day). I was quite happy: this man had 13 years and 15 countries worth of experience and was a pro kayaker. I suppose I should also mention the kayakers. These people basically protect the rafters. They ride the rapids first and wait off to the side, ready for action if need be. And one of them is in the top 5 in the world. They are amazing to watch. One time we watched as this woman kayaker was heading down to the falls when she rolled and couldn’t really make it all around. Paolo (one of the best) was there in a second to help her (they were about 2 meters from the falls, tearing ass down the rapid), and when he realized at the top of the falls that she had lost her paddle, he calmly turned around and handed his off to her. Went down the falls with just his hand and a kayak. Then he managed to rescue her paddle far downstream. Absolutely amazing to watch.

Dave took us to the source of the Nile where the water was gentle and gave us a couple of lessons in rafting. Things like, if the raft flips the hold onto to the rope at the side and don’t drop your paddle. Then get yourself in as fast as possible, which is a lot harder than you think and Dave ended up pulling me in. If a strong rapid gets a hold of you go into a Christ on the cross position, take a deep breath and try not to get pulled under. If you get tossed from the boat, the kayakers will try to get to you but watch out for rocks. Basic lessons that freaked the shit out of me. But I’m a strong swimmer. It’ll be fine.

Did I mention that there are spitting cobras in the Nile?

Off we went, to our first grade 2 rapid. Wheeeeee….fun! Got to the Falls (and the audience). Almost made it but the waters got us and we flipped (almost no one flips there). Ok, it was quick, painless, a little scary but ok. Then we got to The Ganges (I think that’s its name), a grade 5 and very long, with a spot in the middle called The G Spot. We started down as hard as we could, dropped into the boat and held on for dear life. All I saw was this enormous wall of water engulfing us with a flurry of jabs. All of us were tossed clear of the raft. I, in fact, went under for so long that everything became quite tranquil. I wasn’t worried about reaching the surface. I didn’t try to swim or even attempt to kick my feet. I was just enjoying the light playing with the water. When I finally reached the surface (I love life jackets) Dana happened to be beside me and later told me my eyes were the size of saucers. I didn’t get a chance to tell her I was ok as another wave broke over my head and carried me off to the right side. Paolo rode past me with a big grin on his face, asked if I was ok, then warned me about the rocks behind me. Ha. I 'Christed' it and avoided the rocks, then managed to take in the situation. All of us were on opposite sides of the river. Dave had made it back to the raft and was standing atop it and the kayakers were pulling people back. Paolo finally came back to me after he had checked on the others and I grabbed onto the front and he paddled away. We flipped the raft and carried on. I really had never felt so much fear in my life.

Many jokes followed regarding the name G Spot for such a frightening rapid and, well, you get the picture.

But we survived and moved onwards. Not like we had a choice. But Dave, who is obviously an adrenalin junkie and was having the time of his life with the flipping raft, actually guaranteed that there was no way we could flip on the next rapid. It was only a grade 3. Easy peasy. We almost flipped. Yup. Great.

But then came the long rest down a calm patch of water. We exchanged jokes, ate bananas and glucose cookies, talked about how pathetic we were for not being able to stay in the frikkin raft. But Dave, who by this point had become my hero and I’m in the process of making a shrine in his name along the banks of the Nile, told us the waters were bigger than usual that day and you never could tell what the river was going to do. Which is quite true: I watched it for about half an hour one day at the falls and it was constantly changing its pattern, never repeating. So we had a big pep talk about how we’re gonna make it over at least one rapid (there are 14 I think) and there were 3 left. The kayakers were telling us otherwise and having a good old laugh. They had no fear, but they had ridden those rapids everyday for 4 years. So pooh on them.

Our lunch on the raft was almost done when we heard the noise, the enormous roar that was coming from the far distance, but in the direction we were headed. All of our stomachs sank (not Dave’s). We paddled for about 20 more minutes before we reached the source of the noise. I thought I would throw up when Dave stared explaining (in a yell over the roar) how the rapid worked. But then the cheeky bastard told us it was a grade 6, which a raft is not allowed over, and we were portaging the raft over an island. Even that was hard. I cut the crap outta my foot, which is a scary thing to do in Africa where parasites like to live in wounds and lay eggs, but I’m on Doxy. The ultimate antibiotic. Ahhhh, a bonus to the burn.

We joined onto the rapid at the bottom of the grade 6 where it becomes a grade 5. Tried to overtake the Nile…and lost. Badly. I was on the right side in the middle and we got shoved 180 and all I can remember is feeling the boat turn and flip up, saw the water below me (I was holding onto the rope for dear life) and then the bitch Nile smashed us full on into the wave. I did manage to hole on but felt very dejected. We became even more determined to beat the Nile. I swear, I thought she was trying to claim me as her victim.

The next rapid approached and we paddled hard, harder than I thought I could ever do it, with my entire body pulling at the water. We hit hard, the front pulled up and…we made it!!!! It was extraordinary! We made a rapid!!!!!! And man, it was fun! Oh the joy and bliss!

But there was still one left: The Bad Place. An evil grade 5 that had a nasty hole into between 2 waves. At that point, I didn’t realize how nasty it was, but I’ve seen footage where the raft flips, and gets stuck in that hole for minutes, twisting and turning and basically getting beaten up. For this reason Dave told us if (when) the raft flips, we do not try to hold onto the rope. Just let the rapid take you or your arms could be ripped out of their sockets. Lovely. Now I was really looking forward to this one. We had to portage over some land again and stood over top of the river, getting our speech from Dave. It was all I could do to not turn around and walk away. The water was vicious. We were meant to sneak the raft into the side of a rapid, steering around some shallow water with sharp rocks, turn around a tree (which we could touch because it was home to thousands of spiders) and then try to make it over the Bad Place. What can you do? I had no choice and got in and was kinda happy when the inevitable happened. We did all the maneuvering ok but that hole sucked us in and spat us out hard. I was lucky and somehow managed to let go at the perfect time, barely going under and just riding down the rapids (which was fun) where I ran into Dave. He said he got sucked under for a while and had gotten a little shaky from it. I think he was trying to make me feel better. But Alan, the Aussie, really got it. She sucked him down for a very long time and wouldn’t let him up. Dana, who is a Dive master, felt him at her feet and she tried her damdest to pull him up. He was ok, but he certainly put away a lot of beer after the fact.

We survived. It was one of the most frightening things I have ever done and I have more respect for these guys who do it every day and keep people alive while keeping themselves alive. Ah, the shrine.

The video made us look better than we thought and proved to be great entertainment for all the other travellers and rafters. We really did have some big water. Needless to say, I bought one…just for the shot Ben (who followed filming in a kayak) took at the rapid we went 180 over. It shows me holding onto the topside of the boat before flipping. Cool – as I said, TV desensitization: doesn’t seem like it happened. They now use that clip in one of their commercials.:) We spent many of the following nights watching other rafting trips and ours was definitely one of the hairiest.

So now nothing scares me. I figure I lost 4 lives out there on the Nile and I plan on keeping my other 5 whilst I’m here in Africa.

Just this morning I took a pika pika (a moped taxi) into the center of Kampala with no fear. We weaved in and out of traffic, flew along dirt paths pushing people out of our way, almost side swiped a few cars. Nothing. I just hope my insurance covers such things J

Next on the list: the Mountain Gorillas. Feb.23. Oh yeah!
Love and misses,
Thi

PS We actually did a lot more stuff in Jinja, even visited some villages where we met a man who had been bitten by a black mambo and partook in some local food. It was such a great place, Jinja. Could have stayed forever but sadly had to move on. We actually hitched a ride with an overland truck into Kampala so it made it a bit easier.
And, tonight, we experience the nightlife of Kampala with some Peace Corps volunteers and some South Africans.

Look! There's a hippo! And it's behind that tree! 3/16

February 11, 2003

So my hands look funny. Red, save for my fingers. Now I'm just trying to stay out of the sun. I was hoping my body would get used to the Doxycyclin but an overland operator told me otherwise. Apparently few experience the ultimate side effect: the bizarre tingling in your hands. I get them. Cool.

Other than that (which is more funny than anything else), things are excellent. I'm currently in Jinja, Uganda, right on Lake Victoria and the White Nile and enjoying the heat wave (10 am-30 degrees). Ad now I'm trying to remember where I left off.

Right, so, the Dutch and I left Nairobi for Lake Naivasha, a fresh water lake in the Rift Valley. Travel was very uneventful, until we reached Naivasha town. Having no choice, hopped in a matatu (a service taxi that drives at break neck speeds on the horrible roads of Kenya -you often have to drive in the ditch- that carries as many people as possible) and raced to our destination. It was my first matatu experience and it was hilarious. When I say carry as many people as possible, I don't mean safely. Now, picture your typical mini van; that's what they kinda look like. So then picture about 35 people crammed into it, with luggage and the odd live chicken. Asses sticking out the windows, people holding onto strangers for dear life. At least, if you get in an accident, which is often, you won't get hurt cause there is no where to go! You're too crammed in! I have to say; I did find it amusing.

We did make it to Fisherman's Camp without incident. The camp is lovely, right on the Lake with much wildlife running about. The birds were fantastic: big scary gangster Marabou stalking about, Ibis taken straight from a hieroglyphic, various owls and then there were the Colobus monkeys. So cute and shy with their toy faces and long flowing black and white hair. We spent an afternoon with a family. But the hippos. The camp had to install an electric fence around the site to prevent the hippos from going for a stroll. They tend to come out of the lake at night to graze on some grass. Not sure if you know, but hippos are killers. They can run very quickly and they have no qualms in biting your head off. Obviously the camp doesn't want to lose tourists this way...bad for business.

One night we were sitting in the bar when Eagle Eye Mark spotted a hippo. By this point we were quite used to seeing them munching away at the grass but it's always a thrill. Also, Dana had just arrived from Mount Kenya and she hadn't had the pleasure yet. This is exactly what Mark said:
Look! There's a hippo! (pause) And he's behind that tree!

Security went wild. All you could see was flashlight beams bouncing in the night, and heard shouts and loud grunts from the poor hippo. He was just about 15 feet from us and, silly Dana and I followed at a 'safe' distance. The security got him on the move but in the wrong direction. Amazed we watched as the big old hippo ran right through Dana's clean laundry and then turned in our direction. Lucky for us, an overland truck was near and we jumped in just as the hippo ran past. A tiny Jack Russell finally got involved and he managed to chase the hippo back to the lake. That's right, 10 men could not do what one tiny terrier could.
Apparently, someone forgot to put the gate up that night.

And the rest of our stay was just as exciting, but in a much less dangerous way. We rented mountain bikes and rode 16 km to Crater Lake, where I got to hang out with Hassan and Ali, the resident camels. The ride was wicked fun, going through trails and stuff (Marty, you must feel so proud right now). We went for a hike around the crater, checking out all the wildlife. But by the time we had to leave both Elma and I were in a bit too much pain to ride (it had been a long time since I had ridden a bike and certain areas of the body get sore) so we hitched back with a rose truck (many Dutch live and grow roses in this area) while Mark rode.

We also rode bikes through Hell's Gate National Park, which made seeing giraffes and zebras quite different. I was hoping to see a leopard but...
I also learned why the park is called Hell's Gate. There's absolutely no shade, except when you hike through the gorge. This is where I discovered the hand tingles.

We had high tea at Elsamere, home to the late great Joy Adamson of Born Free fame. It was great...we put so much food on our plates we made ourselves sick. But let me tell you, this home is something else. I wouldn't mind living there, with colobus monkeys running around the yard, taking care of big cats. Pretty cool.

Then we finally left. Elma and Mark left us for Uganda (they only had a little time left) and Dana and I were to go to Narok, a Maasai town. I was to meet Dana, who decided to climb yet another mountain (I'm satisfied to see them stand), at the junction to Narok. About 80 km away, maybe 100. It took over 5 hours. I had heard of African time but this was a good lesson. I took a matatu to Navaisha town and changed to the one going to Narok. It stayed put for 2 and a half hours. They kept telling me we were leaving in 10 minutes and to stay in the matatu. It was boiling hot and my shin was bubbling from the doxy. I had a very nice, although drunken man wedged in beside me who kept telling the same story over and over again between intervals of sleep on my shoulder. It was lovely.

Dana and I did managed to meet up and made it safe and sound to Narok.

We were the only mzungu (white person) to actually stay in the town. It’s basically a quick stop for supplies before heading to Maasai Mara kind of place. We had a ball. People treated us wonderfully. If one of us went out to get a bottle of water, we wouldn’t return for hours because we’d have to stop and chat with everyone. Little children would pull on their mothers’ arms shouting Mzungu at the top of their lungs, actually happy, but amazed to see a white person. Everyone starred. Outright. We met a woman and her niece who adopted us and fed us and entertained us for the entire stay. Very kind people. It was great fun staying somewhere not touristy.

From Narok, we moved onto Kisumu, on the western side of Kenya. It’s a nice town right on Lake Victoria, and our first big malaria area. I felt a bit better about my doxy side effects. Only stayed one night but we still got adopted by locals. Although this time it was an Indian family. Years ago, Indians immigrated during the trade route and now are very much a part of the culture. Well, they tend to own the businesses.
Some misconceptions about Africa:

Did you know they don’t need any more donated clothes? Guess what they do with the truckloads. Sold in huge crates to entrepreneurs who then either open a store or take them to the market where they sell them for slightly more. They get very rich doing this. You’d be amazed at some of the clothes I’ve seen. Billabong board shorts, Polo dress shirts, no Armani but I’m sure it’s there. And it’s all almost new.
And folks do wear jeans here. In fact, everyone looks the same as home, except no gangsta gear (ok, maybe the odd bloke)

A farmer in Kenya told me that the cows (who are very fat and healthy looking) are inspected by a vet before slaughtering. Hmmm, seems pricey to me.

And it’s not cheap here.

Now I suppose that’s more than long enough. I apologize but know this: I’m saving you from my next installment for a few days. White Water Rafting on the mighty Nile. Teehee!
Love and miss you all,
thi