Rafting the Nile

Here’s the story of our whitewater rafting in Uganda:

Jinja, Uganda is supposed to have the best white water rafting in the world.

I wavered at whether or not I wanted to do five grade rapids though:

But a friend I made said I had to do it, so…we did.

We got picked up outside of Nakumatt Oasis in a huge van that smelled like sweat which had “Nile River Explorers” painted on it.

We drove for a bumpy hour. I expected we would pick up others, but we never did.

Turns out Jacob and I were the only ones rafting the Nile that day.

This meant no photographers and no one to join us for the big barbecue bash that celebrates a safe ride down the river.

It could have been disappointing, but instead I chose to see it as romantic. Just Jacob and I on a private expedition for two

The company is Australian-owned, but the guides were Ugandan.

Our main guide was sarcastic, tough, and had been rafting the Nile for 11 years. Tony, his grinning counterpart, made a perfect sidekick. Each rapid that advanced, our guide would say: “Tony, please don’t scream like a girl this time. You need to stop scaring the clients” or “Tony, don’t hide in the raft” and cute, grinning Tony would giggle and say, “Okay.”

We had some training. We learned no one had died, but several people had broken bones. We learned what to do if we got caught under the raft, what to do if we got taken away by the current, and how to ride the kayak if he came to rescue us. How to catch the rope if we had to get pulled in (not wrapped around the fingers—it could break them). How to float so we would be less likely to get tore up by a rock, legs in the air. We removed rings and watches because the water usually swallowed them up.

All of the information was kind of overwhelming, and I just knew I wouldn’t be able to remember it all in an emergency. Fortunately, we never  had to use it.

I dressed in a tee shirt and long spandex-style pants that turned out to be perfect for swimming—they protected from the sun but didn’t get baggy with water. We also had helmets and life jackets. The water was so pleasant—not cold at all. There were crocodiles, which we were told were vegetarian. Because white people hunt them, they get out quick when they see white people. Apparently they like to eat black people though. Which is why they didn’t like to swim in the water. Our guides said.

I wasn’t strong enough to pull myself into the raft when we practiced falling out, so it was agreed Jacob would pull me in. I’ve been working on my upper body strength, too. Darn.

We started going down the river, and we could already hear the rapids before we could see them. My heart was beating faster and I was praying and saying, “What did we get ourselves into?” We approached the water as our guide began issuing commands. “Paddle harder!” And then, “Get down!” That was the signal to hold onto the rope and hide your head. The raft whisked around large boulders and belched us out onto smooth water. We hadn’t tipped over. It was adrenaline-pumping fun.

The next one the wave was so humongous there was no doubt we were going to topple. It was like an ocean wave. We watched it break over us like the monster it was. Soon I found myself under the raft, but I saw light, headed towards it, and only swallowed a little of the famous Nile. Jacob, however, was stuck under the raft for a while, and he came up after gulping water for a bit. That one was our worst one. We went on 8 major rapids. Others had been closed due to the dam that was recently built. There’s talk that these rapids won’t be around forever, so now is the time to go.

After that there were long stretches of nothing, where we could just sit back and observe the interesting birds along the river. Lunch was fresh pineapple, chopped with a large knife right in front of us. I never knew how tasty fresh pineapple could be. Jacob and Tony skipped chunks of it across the river. Jacob squeezed the pineapple into his mouth and all over his face, saying he could do that here because he could just jump into the river afterwards. (Jacob hates to get his hands dirty.) He backflipped off the raft, knocked us all off at one point or another, and was just having such a great time that I was laughing just watching him. We could just swim and play in the flat water. Jacob took me and kissed me in the middle of the Nile, an awkward kiss with two life jackets blocking it, but my favorite part of the day nonetheless.

Then the roar of the rapids could be heard, and we’d prepare again. I’d be just as nervous every time. I was only nervous about breaking a bone. That would have been a nuisance, what with our having plane tickets to fly to Ethiopia the next day.

On a couple of the rapids, he had us lean on one side as we rode a wave sideways to keep from toppling. Bump—bump—bump, we sat on the top of that wave like a rickety roller coaster ride.

I’ll tell you there’s nothing like the feeling of being on top of a wave, in a raft, screaming and laughing, before sliding down it and starting it over again, out of control, at the mercy of the water.

We finished and I was a bit relieved and proud at the same time.

I discovered white water rafting grade 5 rapids was like everything I’m scared of: I research it, read blogs about it, overanalyze it, weigh the risks, consider backing out until the last second, and then take a leap of faith and do it.

Then I discover it’s never as bad as my imagination made it out to be.

Despite slathering on sunscreen, we both got rocked. My lower lip puffed up to the size of an African’s. Jacob’s rosy cheeks got even rosier.

Jacob’s quote: “This is my favorite activity in all of Africa.”

Since we didn’t have our camera with us that day, here is a picture of Jacob on a different day in front of another part of the Nile.

African Realization

Riding Kampala Coach bus service into Uganda

It was in Church in Uganda that I had my realization about Africa.

The lady next to me in the Kampala Kololo Relief Society said this:

“We Africans are lazy! And God knows this about us. A long time ago I went to Europe. And I looked at the thermometer and it said it was –10 degrees outside! I called my sister and I said, “I’m bout to freeze here just like a chicken!” So God hasn’t given Africans winter because He knows we’re too lazy and we’d just die…Life in the village is so wonderful. We can sleep as much as we want, and when we’re hungry we just climb a tree and get some fruit. God has blessed us. We don’t have problems with earthquakes and tsunamis like Japan. We have everything we need.”

And I realized:

Wait a minute. It’s true. The land here is so green and lush. There is no winter. There are no natural disasters.

It is, or could be, a blessing to be born in Africa.

 

Africans have a wealth of resources right underneath their fingertips. The animals, the vegetation, the diamonds etc. It is up to them to capitalize on them—it’s not up to America or Europe. We’ve “helped” (and damaged) them enough already. Africans must learn to help Africans.

Living in Africa is an awakening. It’s seeing lives lived with problems that seem insurmountable. Where to start? The governments are unstable, the police are corrupt, 3/4 of people are unemployed at any given time, there are droughts, famines, AIDS and malaria outbreaks, child soldiers and prostitution, alcoholism (Uganda has the most alcohol consumption per capita in the world), illiteracy, lack of neighborhood cohesion, witch doctors for healthcare, no pride in one’s country, violent crime, war.

Most surprising of all, though perhaps it is to be expected: the family is broken apart. Some stats say that 90% of Kenyan men are unfaithful to their wives for example.

I asked a Canadian girl who had lived in Africa for years:

“Why do you suppose Africa is always at war?”

She replied, “That’s a very difficult question. I don’t know the answer.—But then, America is always at war, too, isn’t it?

I paused, taken aback: “True.”

Anyways, the question of why Africa is so besieged with problems could take years of discussion.

Jacob believes it’s the lack of winter—winter forces development.

I believe it’s lack of entrepreneurs—almost all the people who own businesses that we’ve seen in East Africa are actually Indians. For all the people we see just sitting around, it’s really amazing that more people don’t try to start a business. The hotels we stay in are foreign-run, and often even the tourist activities are headed by foreigners, not Africans. Economic problems breed hatred here—hatred toward leaders and toward people who are successful.

 

A preacher we met in Kigali genuinely believes that Africa is cursed. It certainly feels that way, let me tell you…

But these problems are created by the Africans and they must be solved by the Africans. I don’t believe we can be the saviors of the world, though Americans sure try to be… We can, of course do what we can to help. But---

We cannot force on people what they do not want for themselves.

African people must want development and must work for development. They must vote for leaders with integrity. They must build their own schools and not chase away talented and intelligent people with wrongheaded policies and low quality of life. They must stop allowing corruption. They must build businesses. They must plan for the future so when the drought or famine comes they have stored food. They must learn from their mistakes. They must get married and stay married. They must stop practicing witchcraft on one another

(Jacob has been hexed already. He thinks it was a joke. Let’s hope. He cast a spell on them in return.)

They must learn to serve one another, the main focus of all successful businesses.

And they can do it, but they must want it and they must do it—the African way.

We can’t do it for them.

What the West-aiding-Africa culture  has engendered, though idealistically it sounds humane, in real life, is Africans literally expecting things from us just because we’re white. If we go grocery shopping the guard of the mall, armed with a gun, naturally, says, “Even this one I want” pointing to the drink Jacob is drinking. Children follow us and demand, “Give me money. Give me pen.” Not so much as a please or thank you. The shipping of free clothes to Rwanda means that everyone wears US brand clothes instead of buying clothes from Rwandans, destroying the clothes industry there because why buy clothes from Rwanda when you can get them free from America? Everyone in Ghana assumed I worked for an NGO, because why would a white person visit a black country without plans to “help”--

Just because we’re white and they’re black. We’re American, and they’re African. It sucks and frankly, we’re getting tired of it. If anyone comes here to work in an NGO, I wish it could be African Americans, to show that it’s not skin color that marks success. But the African Americans I know don’t even know which country their ancestors come from. They are remarkably separated from their history, and the NGOs that I have seen are run completely by white people.

The president of the United States of America’s father came from Kenya. The most powerful person in the world is black.

Anything is possible for the people here too, but I don’t know that they have that kind of vision.

Another Sunday in Rwanda, I sat through a testimony with tears dripping down my face as a youth spoke of his conversion to the Church. He said that he was starving and he asked his family for food and they didn’t have any and he asked his neighbors and they didn’t have any and so he started begging on the side of the road. And an American girl came and told him that his Heavenly Father loved him, and to come to Church with her. And he is now an English teacher and he’s not hungry anymore and he lives with hope for the future.

I will never know what it is like to go hungry. I will never know what it is like to grow up a poor African child and see wealthy, well-fed white people come visit my city.

I’m glad to know that I can still be affected by the misery that we see, and I don’t want to become jaded, but I can’t help but feel this:

Africa, it’s time for you to take some accountability for your own.

Homesick

So I have to admit: Since coming to Uganda I have felt homesick.

Can I indulge in some things I am missing?

~Libraries.

I know I have a Kindle, but I miss exploring the shelves and flipping through books and smelling the pages and seeing the typefaces. I miss library computers where I can look up any book I’ve been interested in and read it, for free.

There’s a bookstore in the mall next door and I settled into one of their cozy armchairs with some books and spent a comfortable hour reading about Rwandan and African problems. Surrounding me were other Africans sitting in their respective cozy armchairs, reading as well. However, when I left, a store employee said: “What did you buy?” Me: “Nothing this time.” Employee: “I saw you reading over there, and you didn’t buy anything? That’s bad. You should buy at least one.” I felt discriminated against as the only white (therefore, wealthy) person. Maybe all the other Africans bought a book, I don’t know. I haven’t gone back to that bookstore.

~Shopping with girlfriends.

I’ve complained about shopping in the past, but it’s not shopping that I don’t like—not really. It’s shopping alone that is boring and a nuisance.

~Good internet.

Without good internet, it’s difficult to communicate with friends and family—Skype goes too slow. Furthermore working becomes a chore when every 5 minutes the internet goes out.

~U.S. holidays.

We’ve been traveling for nearly 2.5 years now, and we have missed a lot of holidays and celebrations. I’d love to decorate Easter eggs, or make an Irish dinner for St Patrick’s day, but our situation makes those things difficult.

~Cooking.

I would really love to cook for Jacob. He would really love it, too.

~LDS Church, American-style.

Church is different in Africa. The speaking style is very straight-laced and rote for the most part. Interesting anecdotes or critical thinking discussions are absent. Instead, questions are asked like, “How should we fast?” and then people answer it for 30 minutes in very typical ways. Then the next question is “In what ways should we fast?” and the answers are exactly the same, and it seems to go over the teacher’s head that it was the exact same question just phrased in a different way. Sometimes the discussions are so weird. For example, in Ghana we spent an entire 3rd hour talking about blood. “What is blood?” “Why do we need blood?”

~Salads, cheese, Mexican food, and no worries about Delhi belly.

Anyone who’s lived abroad for an extended amount of time knows that food can be a real heartbreaker. America is the best food destination in the world, Jacob and I agree. (Italy comes in a close second). African cuisine isn’t varied or creative or even tasty on the whole, although there are options for other cuisine—usually Indian. I’ve had food poisoning in 5 places over the last 2.5 years: Turkey, Morocco, USA, Thailand, and Uganda.

~Clothes

With poor planning on my part, almost all the clothes I packed were pink. Then, the day I said to myself, “I am tired of wearing pink!” I washed an Indian skirt which was pink and new and it dyed Jacob’s clothes pink too! I had to laugh. We are still washing pink dye out of our clothes. I’m ready for some new colors.

~Convenient transportation

It’s difficult to get around here. The traffic is bad, the drivers reckless and boda bodas are the easiest way to get around but I refuse to use them because they are dangerous. They’re motorcycles with bad track records and no helmets. To cross the street is an act of daring with no crosswalks and endless streams of cars.

~Distance from loved ones

I’m missing a lot of milestones in friends and family members’ lives.

 

This is our choice to be here though.  Africa is a difficult place to live—that’s one reason we’re here, to see how a large majority of people live and maybe get some insight and empathy into the Dark Continent. The other reason is because Jacob is training athletes here and actually he has been offered to play on the professional Division I team so this is an exciting opportunity. He doesn’t know if he’s interested, but –Jacob just showed up in a foreign country and got offered a professional basketball position! That is pretty dang incredible. So please excuse my homesickness, I don’t think it will last long and we are definitely grateful for the experience thus far.

Uganda has the wackiest birds I’ve ever seen and they live just outside our window.