The White Nile is a grade five river with violent rapids, long drips and sharp rocks that snap bones on impact. It makes experienced kayakers and rafters “piss” on themselves. I have never rafted; but I am in Jinja, Uganda, where the thundering river is the playground of thrill-seekers. And when in Jinja…play hard. Five other rafting virgins agree one Wednesday morning as we queue to read a laminated indemnity statement pinned on the counter at the Nile River Explorers-backpackers that is also an adventure company.
The statement is clear: raft the White Nile at your own peril.
The twelve rapids have fear-inducing names like Rib Cage, Madness, Silverback, Jaws and Overtime. You hear them roar from kilometres away. They swirl furiously and toss and turn kayaks like wind blowing leaves. It’s a death wish, one of us quips. I say what does not kill you makes a great anecdote.
Our guide introduces himself as Yo and stops smiling when he briefs us on rafting protocol: we are to paddle hard and respect the river, humbling ourselves before her temper by floating instead of swimming through rapids when our boat capsizes.
“Rafting without falling is like floating,” Yo says, making two Finnish women in our group rattle with fear.
Yo says even worse than the river’s might is the paddlers. The thin, long white pleasure sticks are hard. The handle can dislocate jaws and the mini shovel-like bottom can crack skulls. Let go of a paddle and risk broken ribs and limbs, he warns.
Yo’s watchful eyes scan our life jackets and helmets looking for faults. A secure life jacket will keep up no matter how raging the rapid. A helmet makes a head-on collision with the rocks feel like resting your head on a soft pillow.
The river at our starting point looks tame. It flows gently. We have a trial run at handling paddlers. Yo instructs his bewildered group to fall into the water by way of teaching us how to get back into the boat when we fall off it in the thick of the rapids.
To re-enter the float, hold the thick black rope around the boat in both hands, keep your legs straight and haul yourself back in. It becomes instantly clear that I am going to be in trouble; my body is too rigid with nerves to move. Rafting the Nile is something of a “must-do” for experienced rafters and kayakers.
The action starts less than a kilometre in the water. The Rib Cage is mild and makes us swirl. Yo names rapids as we approach them and reminds us of survival tactics. Next up is Bujagali Falls. The Bujagali rapid is nestled between rocks covered in white bird poo.
Thousands of bats flap circles above us. Yo says we are sure to capsize. Those of us sitting in the middle will be submerged between the seats. We must grab the black rope and swim to the side then pull ourselves back to safety. This rapid marks the end of my thoughts on rafting as a tame event.
We are tossed out of the float. I try floating but the current is too strong. The Nile pours into my mouth. I splatter. Two thin, hard legs grab my waist. I want to yell for help, but words choke at my throat. Water rushes into my nostrils. The legs keep pulling as Yo screams for me to “jump in fast.”
Back in the float, heads are bowed as water gushes out of noses and mouths. Faces are as red as a beetroot. The Finnish ladies look like death warmed up. I let out a yelp that turns into shrieks of laughter - that was amazing. Madness leaves up to its name. The float turns upside down. My head gets stuck between seats.
Tired of holding my breath, I swim away and pray I don’t hit a rock - my head has suddenly shrunk, and my helmet keeps moving.
Hassan, a champion kayaker, paddles towards me and tells me to wrap my legs at the tip of his kayak. He is part of the safety crew that goes on all rafting trips. They include an extra float and another kayaker. They enter rapids ahead of us to be on standby to rescue damsels in near distress. All guides are wilderness trauma response and first aid certified.
Back inside the float, I heave and spew out more water. My head is spinning, my body is rattling - that was awesome. The sun is blazing furiously. The river flows through lush low valleys. Villagers bathe, wash laundry and fill Jerry cans with water. A forest of pine trees stretches as far as the eye can see.
Birds swoop while others walk on water - this is romantic. The support crew gathers around us to pass chunks of pineapple and glucose biscuits. Eat, Yo instructs, you are going to need a lot of energy for the next rapids. For now, we relax and have a basic, yet charming picnic of the river.
The next sets of rapids are like the other ones. We fall, we capsize, and we are submerged in water. We heave with excitement and declare every encounter with rapids the most fun we have ever had in the water.
The fun starts feeling a tad too easy for me: I came here prepared to see my life flashing before my eyes. And though I did piss on myself when the float went down, it was because I had drunk gallons of water along the way in the name of keeping myself hydrated.
We have paddled over 20 kilometres in almost four hours. We are nearing the end of the journey. We at last approach a rapid that makes me shake with fear. It is a grade six and sounds like a Tsunami wave.
It is so mean even the support crew gets out of the river, along with us, instead of taking it on.
We walk through a footpath and back into the river below the monster rapid.
Two among us decide to stay on dry land when Yo shows us the last rapid. It is called the Bad Place.
It is the meanest rapid in the adventure. The current is strong and forcefully pulls us to the centre, where it spins like a violent tornado.
We capsize. The rapid spins me harder and harder as the float drifts away. I try floating but the force pulls me down, leaving me fighting hard to keep my head above the water. My life jacket keeps going up to my chin, giving the rapid room to pull me down.
The waves roar away with my helmet. The seconds start feeling like an eternity as I ponder my predicament: staying within the rapid is starting to feel like digging my grave. I cannot leave the torrent as I am surrounded by big, sharp rocks. I know I am not about to die - I am rafting with a company that prides itself on its award-winning safety record. But still, the Bad Place keeps getting meaner.
Meanwhile, Hassan’s attempts to rescue me keep failing - I can hear his instructions but my body refuses to move. He tries pulling me up, but my hands are glued to my side. I swallow more water as Hassan looks around like he is about to ask for support. I finally come to my senses and get on the kayak. My head feels like it’s about to explode. My heart is beating wildly, I am light-headed and disoriented - that was exhilarating.
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