One Day I Rafted the Nile... and LIVED.

before rafting. no IDEA what we were getting into :)

Beautiful people at the market.


Rafting. For the first time. Absolutely wild. The Nile. Yes. Near death experience indeed. Unfortunately words are hard to find for such an experience. Only mental pictures that I will attempt to describe.

White waves. Some reaching between 10 and 15 feet. Hovering over like a dark cloud, yet showing up out of nowhere as the water moves at an insanely fast pace. A hilarious South African Mzungu named Greg with an accent of British, Australian, and Afrikaans (or some spelling like that) decent, successfully led us through the 8 wild, extreme, intense rapids. And guide us, he did. Although it wouldn’t quite be an authentic foreign experience without the most often droppings of the “F” word and others of that sort. Wonderful. And in all honesty, I must admit my OWN language. A persistent, “Oh Sh*t” and “Holy Mother…****” and, well, all other natural instinct type words regarding hopelessness and life saving. I apologize. But you must try this first, and see then how your natural instincts kick in.

The only way I can describe the extent of these rapids is by use of number. The most intense rapids in the world are classifies by number/ level 6. Ready? We and our :high hopes: little selves most definitely spent an entire day rafting LEVEL 5 RAPIDS!!! I’ll admit my extreme pride that I came out alive… yet also a disbelief that I actually did this only a few days ago. The White Nile is one of the top 3 commercially rafted rivers in the world, implying that ONLY crazies go down it. My team and I being that type. Down we went. Flipping and Spinning and Rowing and Ducking and Hiding and Getting Down and Pumping Adrenaline and being intense.

Here is a story worth noting… and in the present tense. I call it, Death Falls.

We look toward the upcoming rapid in fear, being told by Greg that we could quite possibly die (or get seriously injured) if we do this wrong. We inch our way toward the beginning, adrenaline pumping and paddles moving, yet within the matter of seconds, the high tide has moved us straight to the edge too far left and we halt. We cannot do much of anything except await our failure. Looking down, I see a great drop. 90 Degree angle. No mercy granted. This is not a waterfall we are supposed to go down. I think, “If only we had gone about one yard right we could have saved our lives and traveled rather smoothly.” 3…2…1… FALLING DOWN A DEATH TRAP. FRONT GOING STRAIGHT DOWN AND BACK OF THE RAFT (where I sit) FOLLOWING. Our faces must have been entertaining. Greg appearing absolutely frightened… which is never a good thing. If I fall out of this raft, I will quite possibly get stuck under the 15-20 foot fall, churning as the water does, and getting buried beneath the raft. There is no escape. I am staring death in the face. This is made apparent as (pardon my French but I believe it necessary for accurate portrayal) Greg yells at the top of his lungs, “HOLD THE FUCK ON!*!*!!!!!!!!!***!!!”
Too late. I fall from my place at the back of the 16-foot raft toward to front, straight down and burying my peers. I am sure that life is over.
Yet in a blink of an eye, a miracle. We stabilize. No Flip. Every observer of this event cheering and thanking the rafting Gods that we have survived.
I assure you, I have never been nearer my end. And I am THRILLED to have done this. One of the most memorable, insane, wild, wonderful, thrilling experiences of my 20 years on earth.

Now this was only one of the eight rapids; between these hell-stricken creations we peacefully moved through stunning parts of the Nile, an occasional crocodile passing through. Families bathing. We swim from time to time, as well. I have never sweared more in my life. And yes, in this instant, I will excuse it.

Aside from this miracle and amazing experience, one never to be forgotten, I spent a few evenings working with Sanyu Babies home last week, an orphanage of ages 0-4. These babies are beautiful. They stare at you. Eric smiles at me and cares for his peers. The babies only want love, and once they are held, I forget everything. There is something about these precious beings.

Much more to come regarding this babies home. As well as my church visits, and town experiences. Most time is spent exploring and spending time with locals. Visiting. Observing. Adoring. Analyzing. Thinking. Pondering. Contemplating. Loving.

And I love Africa. Today I was exposed to some art after standing in the largest grass hut in the world. It has quite a different influence, and one I am eager to explore further.
Aside from the constant darkness that this world holds, whether it regard my own depression, the brokenness of human beings, the conflict of the western world and imperialism, I believe in a hope. And a light. And that the nights will always be a struggle, but one that only increases strength. The people here are beautiful. The mess is stunning. The beggars, the maze of a market, the isles and isles of material goods being sold, the flies around the food, the smells. This market is wild yet marvelous. Everything is as it should be and will change, as it should. It will change with revolution. With people holding common sense and compassion. With an emphasis on the other. The artwork is inspiring. And I do feel alive. Still and possibly more so. Each moment encouraging more contemplation, more recognition of poverty. Of children sitting on the side of the road, mindlessly begging. Of adorable children and people feeling helpless. Yet Africa is community oriented. Everyone helping another. And I, too, am impoverished.

Please consider poverty. And not only in a monetary sense. It is not to be feared, but rather embraced, held, and altered. And also? I love goats. They are in abundant supply here.