To Jinja and Back Again

This week has been pretty eventful. It started Sunday morning when Courtney, Heather, and I set out for Jinja, a town east of Kampala where the true source of the Nile is located (apparently multiple countries claim to have the source of the Nile). The taxi ride there was only 2000 shillings, so less than $1, and took about 2 hours. Other than being cramped in the taxi van that was originally designed 20+ years ago to transport Japanese businessmen, it was a pretty decent ride thanks to the view of the countryside we got from the road. Miles of green hills followed by miles of ancient rainforest. Unfortunately, most of the rainforests in Uganda have already been cleared for timber oftentimes replaced by cheap pine trees for paper.

The taxi dropped us in the middle of Jinja, from where we had to navigate our way to the hostel we were going to stay at. Conveniently, the hostel also offered whitewater rafting on the Nile, so we couldn't pass it up. We booked a guided trip for Monday and decided to use the rest of the day to explore Jinja. First stop was to walk over the first Nile dam and get a look at the river. No pictures allowed of the dam, however. There are military guards stationed along the dam with AK-47's making sure of it. Apparently, they are working off an old rule set in place to prevent spies from learning about their infrastructure. I guess they haven't quite gotten the memo on Google Earth yet...

After walking for hours and asking for directions from multiple people, we were about to find a great little bar/restaurant. At first, it didn't look like much, but when you went down the stairs beyond the bar, there was an awesome little clearing right on the bank of the Nile with little bungalows. I opted for a liquid lunch, a Castle Milk Stout, the Ugandan version of Guiness. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful: finished our self-guided tour of Jinja, had the first beef I've eaten since leaving Wisconsin, watched some English Premier League soccer, Chatted with a backpacker from Denmark, went to sleep in the dorm. The following day was the big show.

We got out in the raft by 10 am. After a crash course on rafting, focusing heavily on what to do (not IF, but) when we fall out of the raft, we were off. Before I knew it, we were in Grade 5 rapids. All in all, our boat flipped 4 times, but falling out was probably more fun than staying in. The most impressive rapid we hit was a 15 foot waterfall. Since the raft was only 14 feet, we were completely vertical at one point, and I loved every minute of it from the front of the raft. At the end of the trip, we were able to get a glimpse of a Grade 6 rapid. The difference between Grade 5 and Grade 6 is pretty substantial. I could even imagine trying to go down the 6.

From the end of the trip, we were picked up by a big safari truck and brought back to Bujugali Falls, the first Grade 5 that we went over and where our camp would be for the night. That ride back was the hardest experience I've gone through on my trip so far. The towns we drove through weren't anything special. The same dirt roads lined with brick buildings and vendor shacks made from sticks. The same chickens and cows, bicycles and bodas, naked babies playing in the dirt and old men talking on porches. But it was completely different. I was viewing it from the outside now, up from my elevated seat in the safari truck. It felt like they were on display for me, that their lives were meant to entertain me. For the first time, I felt like I was part of the dreaded "T" word; I was a Tourist. And that's not why I'm here. I want to EXPERIENCE their culture, be a part of it, not put it under a magnifying glass. It's amazing how quickly you can go from feeling the most exhilaration in your life to feeling sick to your stomach by how your culture can completely demean other and have absolutely no qualms with it.