Are you up for it?

Wanna go white water rafting class 5 and 6 rapids on the River Nile? "Sure, why not..." I think to myself when asked to make plans for my weekend. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
After a late night of 24 watching I awoke Saturday morning with a thirst for more sleep. A few handshakes and boda rides later, my hefty group of seven finally made it to the Explorers Backpackers site in Jinja. With nothing but food on our minds we prematurely asked Nash, our re-aquainted go-to guy with bike gears as a bracelet and a large Hendrix 'fro, if they were serving breakfast. He replied, "You get breakfast with the rapids package mate." Awesome.
Picture this: an open cargo truck with rows and rows of light skinned mzungus decked out in flaming red life jackets and helmets stuffing their faces with rolexes, myembe and passion fruit. For once, we really deserved the thousands of looks from mere passerbys or fuzzy blurs en route to our destination.
It is quickly noted that the names of rapids on the River Nile are rather deadbeat. Dead Dutchman, the Bad Place, Black Holes... the people naming these torrential pieces of nature did not take into consideration the sanity of future rapid trekkers. Several wet, tantalizing, electrifying, and powerful hours later we arrived to a barbie-q in the middle of nowhere. Not too bad, considering all I left behind were one of my prized possessions in East Africa: my sunglasses. In these waters- even tied down by straps, inanimate objects can fly off of its owner without a moments notice. After snagging an extra veggie patty for the road, I eagerly grabbed a window seat for the ride back. Hair blowing in the wind, I closed my eyes and sat contently wearing merely a bathing suit and towel. With this crowd, I could for once let my knees breath and enjoy the ride without any apprehension.
Remember that bar I introduced you to back in Bujagali Falls? One can officially say it is t-h-e place to be on a Saturday night after rafting the River Nile. Hell, it's the place to be period on a Saturday night. I have made it a point to make friends with as many locals as possible and the rafting guides were anything but an exception. With Kalungi being yelled left and right I was finally feeling at home in such a foreign place. The crowd got interactive when the big screen showed a 30 minute recap of our crashes and flips on the River Nile. The night then began. Hurling Tuskers, Bells, Nile Specials, juice boxes, and majis in the air- we jumped up and down to music from the past, present and future. Dancing on tables, atop tall strangers' shoulders, crowd-surfing. It was a night not to be forgotten but, not remembered by most. Note: Bujagali Campsite is the place to be, not the place to sleep. Music blasted into the wee hours of the night and morning. Waking up rather drained all I could think about was my bed back home in Jinja.
Nice work Uganda, nice work.

How I made it to the front is beyond me. It did however give a rather intriguing vantage point.

I think my face was frozen in this expression the entire journey... 

Meet our crafty rafty guide Peter. With his shenanigans, I quickly was led to belive that keeping our raft upright didn't make it to his priority list. Oh Peter, silly, silly you.

 

Propel, propel, propel your craft

Down the liquid solution

Ecstatic, ecstatic, ecstatic, ecstatic

Existence is but an illusion 

... but from the looks of it, I turned out just fine.

All for now,

<3
--h--