Our trip to Jinja began bright and early Saturday morning. Or should
I say dark and early because it was 4:45 am and the sun wasn’t even
considering being up yet. We needed a ride to Kampala, so Jeffrey from
our ward offered to set one up for us. The ride was supposed to arrive
at Keba Inn at 5:00, but of course everything here runs on Uganda
time. 5:00, 5:10, 5:20. 5:30 nothing. We’re calling Jeffrey
frantically, but to no avail. Finally at 5:40 a car rolled up and
Jeffrey got out. It’s a good thing he was there because there is no
way I would have gotten in that sketch “taxi” otherwise. The ride was
straight up the taxi ride from hell, provided that hell smells like
exhaust and has born again Christian music blaring at eardrum scarring
decibels. I swear the driver took us the wrong way down one way roads
several times. He had no idea where we were going and kept stopping at
totally sketch locations to ask directions from potential murderers.
Also, I think the back tire was falling off. That’s what it sounded
and felt like anyway. I don’t know whether to attribute this to the
music or the near death experience, but some of the most fervent
prayers of my entire life took place in the back of that vehicle.
Miracle of miracle (prayer works) we made it to where we were
supposed to meet the bus. As we were leaving, we thanked the man for
the ride (even though we paid him 45,000 shilling. What a rip off). We
also thanked him (ironically) for the music. “Oh, you’re welcome,” he
said, “I love Jesus. I’ve been saved.” Awesome dude.
Soon the bus came to pick us up and bring us to Jinja. Holy cow, I
have never seen so many muzungus in my entire life. Ok, so that’s not
true (I live in Provo for heaven’s sake) but after a month in Africa,
it is strange to be around white people again. Though most of them
were European, so they were still culturally different. The guy I sat
next to on the bus is a journalist from Luxumborg. He had just helped
organize this giant international marathon in Tanzania, so he was
really interesting to talk to. He had been travelling around and had
interesting information, like that fact that the most civilized
country in this region is probably Rwanda. Even though most people
just associate them with the terrible genocide that happened recently,
the country has really bounced back and are the most structured and
organized. Also, I should be glad that I am not staying in Congo,
where the only way they could travel without being attacked or force
to pay bribes was by dressing up as priests.
When we arrived at the river rafting headquarters, it was awesome
because it seemed like the very stereotypical picture of an
outdoors/adventure touristy place. There was the older granola type
lady running things, the Rastafarian/hippie man with the fro behind
the desk, and the absurdly tan and ripped young men running around
doing all the hard work in order to show off their muscles. From there
we got on trucks that transported us to the river. On the trucks we
sat next to two guys from Oregon named Casey and Jesse. We told them
we were studying at BYU and they told us that they work for the state
department and are stationed at the US embassy in Sudan. How cool is
that? They were pretty awesome and I am jealous of their jobs. At one
point Jesse got distracted and was talking to somebody else. I was
asking Casey about his job and how he got into it, etc. He started
talking about his love for adventure and how he wants to live an
extraordinary life. He said something about not being interested in
the cookie cutter life in a suburb with a picket fence and 2.5 kids,
which was the point Jesse turned back and was like “What’s going on
here? You just met and are already planning how many kids you are
going to have?” I was like, “Oh, you know BYU girls, we move fast.”
Which was apparently the exact right thing to say, like I was
acknowledging the elephant in the room that was symbolic of the fact
that we are Mormons. They both laughed a lot and we had a good
discussion about the church and Mormon culture and the differences
between the two. They have Mormon friends, and it was strangely
awesome to make friends on this trip with people who recognize our
religion. Even though it didn’t really effect our interactions much,
it was just nice to have people who understood what we are like. That
sounds weird, but just trust me. Plus, they were both expert white
water rafters, so they gave us information and advice that
simultaneously scared me more and helped me feel better at the same
time (i.e. there is not way you won’t flip over, but if you do this
and this and such, you won’t die).
We then arrived at the river, where we stripped down and left
everything but our swimsuits and sunscreen in the trucks. E even left
our shoes. IT was weird because that was the first time the soles of
my feet have touched the ground in a month. I even wear shoes in the
shower. The Nile was beautiful, plus there were lots and lots of
extremely ripped men walking around adding to the aesthetics. The
in-charge granola lady gave us a (very) brief safety lesson and then
ordered us to get into the rafts. It all seemed very abrupt. I was not
prepared to get in the raft yet. But we did. We were very lucky
because they made us break into groups of seven, which is an awkward
number and people kept trying to get us to break up and join their
group. But we held strong and were able to get in all together.
Our guide’s name was Peter and he was HILARIOUS. The very first thing
he said to us was “Hello, I’m Peter. Why did you guys pick the sh*t
boat?” Hahahahah yeah Peter, thanks for inspiring confidence.
Throughout the whole trip, every noun was proceeded by the adjective
sh*t. Sh*t boat, sh*t pump, sh*t safety rope etc. It was extremely
hilarious. We asked him how long he has been doing this and he was
like “this is my first time, but don’t worry, I’ve watched the video
many times.” He totally threw me at first because sarcasm is NOT
prevalent in this culture. He called sunscreen anti-n*igger cream, and
though that is probably my least favorite word of all, it was
strangely endearing when Peter said it. Maybe I have a different
standard because he is black. I am probably reverse racist. He told us
the best story about when he was leading a raft full of Japanese
people. None of them spoke English at all, so they couldn’t understand
him when he shouted instructions at them. There were two English boys
in the front, so they were able to communicate to the Japanese that
they just needed to do exactly what the English boys were doing. This
worked well until they went through a particularly wild raid and the
English boys were thrown out. When the Japanese saw that the boys were
gone, they jumped out of the raft. HAHAHAHAHHAa.
Before we started rafting, Peter gave us more instruction, which was
basically simulating death-like situations and practicing not dying.
Like, he flipped the raft over and we had to practice not getting
stuck underneath. Then we had to practice getting back on the raft.
Even with all my P90X, I couldn’t pull myself in, but I didn’t feel
bad because the other girls couldn’t either. But no worries, Peter was
more than willing to pull us in with his bare hands. At one point, he
pulled me and Karen in at the same time, one in each arm. Buff. Plus,
as an added bonus, he rewarded us each with a smack on the bum.
Though, apparently he found our bums unimpressive. In his tribe,
apparently the price of a woman’s dowry is determined by the size of
her bum. A girl with a really nice bum would be worth several cows.
We, according to Peter, would each be worth a measly half a chicken.
Hahahahaha
After not nearly enough not-dying practice to make me feel
comfortable, Peter took us down the first rapid. He would yell
“forward!” and we would paddle forward (obviously). He would yell
“harder!” and we would paddle as hard as we could. Then, he would yell
“get down!” as the raids got too wild and we would crouch down, hold
onto our paddles and the rope and pray for deliverance. The whole
time, Savanah and I screamed like little girls, but man it was
exhilarating! And e didn’t die. Always a bonus.
When we signed up for this trip, I was really scared because I
thought we would just be going through killer rapids all the time. Not
so. There were about 8 instances of killer rapids. Besides that, much
of our time was sent floating along the Nile looking at the
breathtaking scenery. Because we spent so much time floating, we were
lucky that the people in our raft were so awesome. Besides us and
Peter, there was Anneik and John form Holland and Ram from Israel.
Anneik and John were in no way the snooty European types that some
people on this trip were, but were really nice and witty. They
appreciated our humor, which made me appreciate them. Ram was a Buffy
fan! What are the odds, right? I can officially say that I have had a
lively Spike vs. Angel debate with a Hebrew man form Israel while
floating down the Nile in a raft. It was kind of a surreal experience.
Often times when we were floating along, the supply boat would float
by with awesome snacks like crackers or pineapple. I imagine that if I
designed heaven, it would look a lot like that experience” floating on
a beautiful river with fabulous sunshine, great company, and an
attractive person giving you the pieces of the most delicious
pineapple in the world.
There was a point where the rapids got too bad and we got out and
walked past it, which I appreciated. Directly after that was a rapid
called “the bad Place.” Sounds ominous, right? Apparently, if you go
in the bad place, you have a 99% chance of getting thrown out of your
raft. If you go to the right, there is a 99% chance of staying
upright. If you go left, your chances are 50/50. My group wanted to go
through the bad place, so I was peer pressured into agreeing. Peter,
however, had other plans. He was all like “Yeah, sure, the bad place,
ok.” But then totally took us to the right. Hahahaha. The men in the
group were all disgruntled, but as it turns out, Peter was totally
right. Casey and Jesse’s raft went through the bad place and they told
us about it later. They almost died. Jesse was the only one who stayed
on the raft, everyone else was thrown. One guy named Eric (remember
him, he comes up later) tried to hold on to the raft, and the current
was so strong that it pulled his shoulder out of the socket. Their
raft was pulled apart by the current and the riders were under water
for a very long time. Yeah, I’m glad we avoided that.
Although we didn’t go through the bad place, we did tip over twice.
The first time was no big deal. It was a little scary, but I just help
tight to the raft and kind of rode the rapid until Peter was able to
get the raft upright and pull us in (with the obligatory bum slap).
The 2nd time we tipped over was a little more dramatic. Tipping was
fine, I held on and didn’t get far from the raft. I was happily
bobbing along, but Karen next to me was swearing a little more
colorfully than usual. I was like, “calm down girl, we already fell
out, the worst is over.” But it turns out she could see something I
couldn’t because all of a sudden Peter was yelling “Get your legs up!”
and we were slammed by the rapids into huge, sharp rocks. Ow. I’ll
tell you what, ow. Luckily, we were mostly fine. That seems like
something that could kill you, but I only had a few cuts on my knee
and foot that weren’t too deep and a pretty good bruise on my hip.
John was the worst, bleeding all over the place, but even he wasn’t
too bad. He could still paddle and stuff. It was pretty hard core. But
I can now say “I have bled in the Nile” whenever I am playing two
truths and a lie.
When we went through the last rapid, we all stayed in except Peter,
who mysteriously disappeared. There were other rafts and islands
around, so we figured e just went to one of those, plus it was a
straight shot to the end, so we weren’t too worried. We just paddled
lazily along, laughing and singing. Savanah made up a very clever song
that goes like this:
Row row row your raft
Gently down the Nile
Scarily scarily scarily scarily
watch for crocodiles!
So we were singing that and having a good old time. Suddenly, like the
freaking creature form the black Lagoon, Peter rises out of nowhere
and grabs me, pulling me into the river. Hahahaha I guessI should have
seen that coming. I was angry, but it was mostly that fake anger that
people put forth in am effprt to maintain their dignity. I said,
“Peter! You could have drown me! I guess we have a sh*t guide to go
with the sh*t boat!” which I though was pretty clever. Then I swam
over and dunked him, but mostly he laughed. So much for my dignity.
That was the end of the rafting, which was unfortunate, but it was
hard to be sad because that meant it was time for a giant barbeque!
Wahoo! There were kabobs (my fav!) and unlimited soda (foreshadowing).
Basically we just chilled and ate our hearts out and reveled in the
fact that we just completed something so amazing! And we looked at our
sunburns, which were pretty magnificent. Malaria medication + the
equator’s direct sunlight= bad sunburns.
The bus ride to the river camp was about 40 mins long. About half way
there, all of the soda came back to haunt us. Me and Karen and Savanah
had to pee SO BAD. Luckily, most of the other people on the bus had
even more to drink than we did (mostly beer) and had to pee too. So
the bus pulled over by a cornfield and we all ran in, strategically
lacing ourselves so that we didn’t see any stranger bums or pee on
anyone else’s shoes. How many of you can say that you peed with a
bunch of drunk Europeans in a cornfield on the side of a road in
Africa? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
Eventually we got to the campsite and got all set up. We were
sleeping in a dorm instead of a tent, thank goodness. There was a bar
where everyone was hanging out and binge drinking while we waited for
the raft people to show the video of the day. They were watching
Rugby, which was actually pretty fun to watch. Savanah loves rugby and
tried to explain it to me. Mostly I didn’t understand totally, but it
sounds fun. We have plans to go to rugby games at BYU this year.
It was super fun just chilling and talking to everyone and helping
Savanah achieve her goal of kissing the hottest raft guide (a goal she
quickly abandoned as his attractiveness decreased inversely with his
blood alcohol level). A bunch of our new friends came up to talk to
us, including Eric. Eric is a total Rastafarian free loving easy going
hippie, who drinks like a sailor. It is an interesting paradox because
apparently his wife works for the state department. That is a woman I
would like to meet, because there is some serious contradiction going
on there. Eric was telling Mark and I the incredibly interesting story
of his life (stories available upon request, this email is getting too
long). AT one point he suggested that we never get addicted to
cocaine. I laughed and told him that I never would try cocaine. He was
skeptical because apparently I might need it someday when I am totally
drunk and absolutely have to drive somewhere. Cocaine is (apparently)
the only way to sober up quickly enough. Oh, I told him, I don’t drink
either. Well. You would have thought from his reaction that I had
suddenly come up with the solution to world hunger, world peace, and
high gas prices all at the same time. This was obviously the most
amazing thing he had ever heard. He went on for a good ten minutes
about how I am “golden” and “a genius” and how I would save myself so
much trouble in m life. All while he was very very drunk. I love drunk
people sometimes.
After the movie, Casey and Jesse came up to us and uttered two of my
most favorite words: dance party. The plan: they would move all the
tables and we would use our feminine charms to manipulate the bar
tender to play dance music, a plan I excelled at, of course. The silly
Europeans were busy watching the football (soccer) game, but the
Americas and the Africans were seriously movin and groovin. There is
something magical about impromptu dance parties anyway, but hen they
take place in Africa, they are even better. Plus, I can now claim that
I have been bought a drink in a bar because Casey bought us all
waters. And, ok, I realize that being bought a water in a bar is a lot
less glam than being bought a martini in a bar, but I can actually
drink the water. Plus, I thought it was sweet that he was all
respectful of our religion and stuff. After the soccer (football)
game, the DJ played a celebratory “Alejandro” by Lady Gaga (Barcelona
won) and even the Europeans joined in.
The next morning we woke up super early When the alarm went off, my
body was like “what do you think you are doing? You get back in bed
and sleep off your Mormon hangover!” but my mind said “you will
probably never have a chance to see the sun rise over the Nile again.
Stop being a lazy arse.” My min won an we all went and sat on a little
rock island and watched the sun come up. I wish I was a talented
writer and could adequately describe to you how it looked without
sounding trite, but it was breath taking. Soon the water was being let
out of the dam (or something) so the river level started to rise and
we had to leave before our little rock island was covered, so we went
to the little beach and meditated for awhile. I felt like an Egyptian
goddess or something. What an awesome way to start your Sabbath!
`To get home, we had to catch a bus back from the river rafting
offices. Unfortunately, cam checkout was at 11 am and the bus didn’t
come until 3. On the bright side, when we got to the rafting place, we
met some more awesome friends, Nash and Jimmy, who were both very
funny. They said they had seen us dancing the other night and asked
why we weren’t staying for the “booze cruise” that night like most of
the other rafters. We explained that we had to get back to work, plus
that we don’t drink. That totally surprised them because, as jimmy
said, “when I saw you dancing last night, I thought you were totally
smashed.” Hahahahaha
We were soon hungry and left to find somewhere to buy food. We had
earlier decided against going to church because when we looked it up
on Mormon.org it was like 30 miles away and we had no way to get
there. But the, as we were wandering around, we cam across a very
familiar looking building. A Mormon chapel! It was only like half a
mile away from where we were staying. What the heck Mormon.org?
someone needs to update that. We had missed church, but there was a
baptism going on, so we went for that. We may have missed renewing our
baptismal covenants, but at least we were able to see someone making
theirs. It was a family, which was cool. Also, I know the church is
true everywhere, but I really wish we went to this branch instead of
the Entebbe branch. This church was so luxurious. They had fans, and
tile floors and artwork! Still no pianos though.
After the baptism we were still hungry and had not found food, so we
headed back, at which point Nash informed us that they had a
restaurant there. Oh, thanks, that would have been nice to know before
we went walking in the million degree heat. But I guess then we
wouldn’t have found the baptism with the beautiful church, so all is
well. MY blog post would not be complete without me waxing poetic
about food al the time, so here we go. I ordered a tomato and cheese
Panini, which was not only delicious, but also help hold off my Zupa’s
craving a little bit. Can we please go to Zupas as soon as I get home?
The bus pulled up right as I finished, so we hugged Jimmy and Nash
goodbye and got on the bus that took us away from beautiful Jinja and
on to stinky Kampala. On the ride home, I met one last really
interesting person (this trip has been full of those): a medical
student from Harvard, who is here in Uganda studying the AIDS virus.
Because I have spent so much time working with HIV+ clients, he was
really interesting to talk to, even though I understood maybe half of
the words he said. But, according to him, people really don’t die of
AIDs anymore, as long as they get the proper treatment. People who are
HIV+ can live full lives and will often die of natural causes rather
than AIDS. I didn’t know that, so I thought I would share.
All in all, it was a trip of a lifetime. I talked to many, many
people, lots of them who had tons of raftng experience and the all
said that this trip was some of the best rafting in the entire world.
Plus, I met tons of fascinating people (many of whom are now my
facebook friends in case you want to stalk me. And mum, since I’m sure
you have already stalked me, you can now put stories with these
people). We have a paper that will allow us to go again for half price
and I am seriously tempted, but I don’t think we will because the
whole time we will be trying to recreate the trip, and there is no way
it can ever be as good as it was this time. This trip was perfect.
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