Never Smile at a Crocodile (on the Nile)

Morning on the Nile

The Source of the Nile (at Lake Victoria) as seen from a parking Lot

            We actually did something! This weekend Julie, Lexie and I went to the source of the Nile in Jinja with the intention to do a booze cruise because Lexie didn’t want to raft. We woke up Saturday at 5:45 and we walked about an hour to the bus stop. Leaving the city I realized just how lush and jungle-y Uganda is. Some of the Muzungos with us (which strangely enough included Greg, the Minnetonka graduate) had rafted before, and the 2-hour bus ride was long enough to talk us into rafting. We arrived in Jinja around 10 am and got free breakfast (Rolex of course), were fitted for helmets and life-jackets, and we bussed about 1 hour to the starting point on the Nile.

On the Nile, we were given a comprehensive “Danger Lecture.” Dangers include but are not limited to dislocations, head injuries, paddles to the face, the sun, dehydration, crocodiles, hippos, bilharzia and drowning. We were told to explain any of the medical conditions we had in Muzungo-land, and if we were ridiculous enough to be allergic to bees, to bring our epi pens. We were instructed what (not) to do when we were thrown from the raft and floating (hopefully) down the rapids: 1. Never stand up, which in retrospect is ridiculous because I never managed to find my feet in the water. 2. Never swim to shored (again, “swimming” in the rapids was a joke). There was a kayaker shadowing each raft and one “Rescue Raft” to catch the strays.

I was part of the only all-female raft on the river and our rafter-guide was the head-guide called Pachu (not his real name). Pachu had 6 wives, an unknown number of children and was absolutely full of it. At first I was relieved that we had the head guide, however this was short lived when he decided we would skip practicing flipping our raft because he hated getting wet. We did practice getting back in the raft, which we all failed to do, and so were unceremoniously dragged aboard. Then, because I was the shortest, I was relegated to the very back of the raft, where I was sure my chances of being thrown off were the greatest.

We set of for our first rapids, a grade 5, I later googled. There was a mini waterfall that had us all screaming like we were on a roller-coaster then coughing up the Nile we had swallowed. On our second rapids, we flipped, but I somehow managed to keep a death-hold grip onto the boat and my oar. We flipped the boat back without too much trouble and I even got back in on my own. Pachu offered me a job. Our second flip threw me from the raft. I spun underwater for what seemed like forever (but which we had been told was only 10 seconds) trying not to panic until I found the surface and was rushed down the river. Suddenly a kayak appeared and I grabbed on, he started paddling but I lost my grip and was swept away again (wondering if crocodiles were attracted to blood).  He had to come back and get me, unimpressed. I was hauled into the raft, my limbs intact, my dignity less so. Pachu took away the job offer.

Our Camp Site

It would perhaps have helped if we had done any research at all into this. We had no idea how long the rafting would be (6 hours), how many rapids there were (8) or what grade they were (4s and 5s). Asking our guide wasn’t helpful because he never gave a serious answer. He would frown and say “I think we lost 5 muzungos in this one so this must be a 5, but this is only my second week so I’m not sure, hahaha. ” He was very entertaining and had us laughing the whole time. He enjoyed telling us a rapid was a 5 and to “GET DOWN!” then laugh when we went through the tiniest rapids hunched down clinging on for dear life. In fact, most of what he told us was a lie, so you can understand that when he told us we would skip a rapid by getting our and carrying the raft around it, we didn’t believe him. He actually had to drag us out off the raft. 

Monkey at breakfast

In between the rapids, it was a leisurely float/swim, admiring the beautiful jungle shores and hallucinating animals. In total we flipped 3 times, which was the least of any raft, because, of course, women are better at everything. Our raft was also full of medical students; us three from the US, two from Denmark, one from South Africa and a pre-med from the US. We used sunscreen and managed not to get burned, and all I came away with were a few bruises and scrapes. Lunch was a quarter of a pineapple and (dodgy) biscuits. We were given dinner and beer on the shore of the Nile, bundled into the bus, where we were also given unlimited beer. The ride turned into a jolly sing-along with everyone singing their national drinking songs (the Koreans sang Gangnam-style). By the time we got back to the campsite it was dark, so we missed sunset on the Nile. We optimistically set our alarms for 6am so we could catch the sunrise, but it stormed all night and there was a tin roof…not much sleep was had. It was raining and chilly in the morning, but it soon cleared up and became another sweltering day. We walked into Jinja and looked around the craft shops. Despite being the second largest city in Uganda, Jinja is about the size of Excelsior*** (see below). Then we got the 3:30 bus back to Kampala and arrived around 7:30pm, exhausted.

Eagle/Owl? Need a bird book...

I should mention that we never bother to visit the actual source of the Nile, since we heard it was an uninspiring plaque with a shrine to Ghandi, whose ashes were sprinkled there, and (more importantly) cost 10,000 shillings ($4). That is 4 beers, or dinner. Instead we went to the car park of a hotel and took a picture further away (see below). All in all the trip was fantastic, and I would absolutely raft the Nile again. I’ll be back in Jinja for research soon, so maybe I can take Pachu up on my job offer.


Addendum: On my second visit to Jinja for work, I discovered that it is a lot bigger than we thought (aka we gave up walking half way through). I think our overdose on every type of Nile skewed our judgement.