Go Go Lightly!

Jambo from Zanzibar!  We’re writing you fresh, sundrenched and salty from a swim in the turquoise shallows of the Indian Ocean. We’ve been doing quite a bit of swimming lately — some of it intentionally here in the warm, calm sea, and a whole lot of it unintentionally in wild African rivers, surrounded by killer rocks and murderous crocodiles.
 
Sadly (but maybe fortunately) we’ve left the crocodiles behind at Bujagali Falls near the source of the mighty white Nile. But we conquered them head on and fearlessly (*ahem*) just a few days back, when we braved the world-renowned Nile Class 5 rapids with Nile River Explorers (www.raftafrica.com). Jill had plenty of experience beforehand (rafting that one time just over 10 years ago in some river somewhere) and, while I had never been on a raft for even one brief moment of my life, I had a lot of gumption (so Jill says) and just enough of a hangover (Nile Special, yet again) to cloud my judgment.
 
The morning of our great Nile adventure started out ominously. Jill woke up before dawn to a loud and repetitive squeak-screech-crackle in our room, and anxiously whispered “Heather, Heather… do you hear that noise?” I slept. Jill asked again (several times) and I, stirred from a deep deep sleep, rose for just a moment from my fog and casually responded “It’s a monkey” (NOTE: IN OUR ROOM?!?).   Satisfied with this response, I quickly drifted back to sleep; Jill, on the other hand, was not comforted. It wouldn’t have been completely out of the question for a baboon or some other vicious primate to wander into our room – the surrounding forest was full of all types and sizes, and we’d been known to leave our banda door wide open and ready for invasion at all times of day and night. So Jill continued: “Psst. Psst. Heather. What the HELL is that?”
 
Jill’s increasing alarm woke me up once again, and I listened with greater attention as Jill awkwardly catapulted herself from under the mosquito net draped around her low-seated double bed into my tall, net-enclosed top bunk just across the room. Arms wrapped around each other’s waists (for protection?), we surveyed the noises that increased by the moment near our open bags (SCRATCH. SQUEAK. PLASTIC-CRACKLE. SCURRY). A thick, acrid smell of scared-animal urine filled the air as we discussed in our quietest voices the merits of turning on our headlamps to further investigate. We imagined rage-filled mammals attacking our faces when blinded by the meager lights (Jill was now convinced it was a “large woodland creature” – her exact words), so we sat confused, wide-eyed and paranoid in the blackness of the room until daybreak.
 
As it turns out, it wasn’t a monkey, or an anaconda, or a misguided bat (these took up residence in the communal bathroom that night), or a woodland creature of any size. Indeed, it was a rat. Giving birth. In our hut. On our floor.  Near our backpacks. How do we know, you ask? 
 
RAT BABIES. Hairless, pink, brand-spanking-new, barely squirming rat babies. Oh. My. God.

So we went rafting. 
 
About an hour later, we found ourselves ankle deep on the muddy banks of the Nile.  The horrors of the morning quickly succumbed to the terrors that lay before us as we stripped down to our bikinis, donned our supersized lifejackets and boarded a raft with our likewise-novice team.

Here’s how it went down, play-by-play:

OUR TEAM:  Tal, the adorable Israeli trapeze artist; the two Israeli girls with similar names; the Dutch guy; Jill; me.

OUR GUIDE:  Harvey, one of the several hot, buff, suntanned Aussies running the NRE show.

HARVEY’S GUIDE:  Jesse, another one of the those hot, buff, suntanned Aussies, who is here to keep Harvey in check – Harvey has only been on the Nile for a week.  And is already prone to troublemaking (i.e. taking the most dangerous routes), as we will soon find out.

WARM UP:  We learn to paddle.  We are mostly girls.  We aren’t very fast.  Actually, we suck.

Harvey tips the boat for a little real-rapids practice.  I swallow 13 gallons of Nile-river water.  I gag and choke.  Eyebrows raise re my presence here.

CLASS 5 RUN #1: BUJAGALI FALLS:  After breezing through a few small-scale rapids, we approach our first serious task of the day – two successive falls (WATERFALLS) crashing into frenzied foaming white water and cringe-inducing rocks.  We saw this one from the shore yesterday, and we’re nervous, to say the least.  But luckily, boats rarely tip on this run, and neither does ours or any other of the four rafts out with us on the river.  There is one isolated tipping incident though – or maybe it’s more of a fly-and-splatter – somewhere during the second fall, I’m sent sailing out of the boat and I disappear into the water.  Swallow 12 more gallons of water.  Gag and choke.   Team growing increasingly wary re my abilities.

 

This, we learn, is the easiest Class 5 run of the day.

CLASS 5 RUN #2: SILVERBACK:  As we approach what sounds like a jet engine roaring beneath the surface of the river, Jesse casually informs that we’re about to raft one of the largest and wildest raftable rapids in the world.  Jill’s psyched, wants to flip the raft on purpose.  I’m thinking of taking up religion.  The run has a series of four very large funneling waves.  The point is AT VERY LEAST to make it over the first wave, so as to avoid breathless underwater body surfing for the entire several dozen meter rapid. 

FAIL.

(This is Harvey’s fault.)

CLASS 4 RUN #1: 50/50: So named because rafts flip over 50% of the time.  We don’t flip.  Skills massively improving, clearly.

INTERMISSION: Beautiful, reflecting flat pools, which lure one in for a lazy swim, notwithstanding its serious infestation of crocodiles, bilharzia (an illness-inducing swimming bacteria) and long skinny slithering green snakes.  Jill swims jacketless; I sit on the side of the boat, clutching my life jacket and nervously eating my pineapple.  

CLASS 5 RUN #3: OVERTIME: As the kayakers that have been accompanying us down the river so far today pull themselves out of the river to avoid the upcoming rapid, our fears intensify.  Even Jill is tightening her jacket straps and t-gripping her paddle for dear life.  This rapid is a vertical plunge over and into bone-cracking rocks, and there is one rule: DON’T FLIP THE BOAT. 

Luckily, this time we comply.  Although we do go over backwards.  Seeing is overrated.

CLASS 4 RUN #2: BUBUGA:  After taking the last run like serious professionals, Jill’s getting more confident.  The next run appears slightly less terrifying, so, at Jesse’s request, Jill decides to join him in jumping out of the raft at the top and riding the rapid freestyle.  I politely yet firmly decline.  I like the boat.

FINAL CLASS 5 RUN: THE BAD PLACE (and for me, bonus Class 4 run at The Other Place):  The name is no exaggeration – this is indeed a very, very bad place.   The night before we viewed a video of this run, which featured one very unfortunate raft that was trapped for what seemed like several very long minutes in this cyclone of a rapid – all of its former crew flung mercilessly from its sides and sucked into its vortex, save one lone survivor, who clung to its ropes in terror as the surf crushed the boat repeatedly.  The rule here: AVOID THE BAD PLACE AT ALL COSTS.

As we hurl forward into this potential catastrophe, Jill’s confidence is shattered.  I’m convulsing with panic.  There’s nothing we can do but paddle as if our lives depend on it (which we’re sure they do), in hopes of narrowly avoiding the very worst.

And miraculously, the worst is avoided – our now-superhuman paddling powers surprise even our guides as we skirt around the parameters of the rapid’s core.  But alas, as we high-five and self-congratulate, Harvey bellows at us to start paddling again – PADDLE RIGHT!  PADDLE LEFT!  HARD PADDLE RIGHT!!!  Of course we obey, although now we find ourselves heading curiously BACK toward The Bad Place.  Why, Harvey? Why? Why? Why?

Because Harvey is crazy.  And so we plunge, and heave left, and rip forward, and heave right, and after slamming face-first into a massive swell of white, the boat tumbles backwards, and everybody is sent flying out of the boat and into the crashing waters.

Or so we think.   When our heads emerge from the water (mine bobbing beneath flailing arms as I’m torn down the surf into The Other Place), we discover our boat, floating gracefully downstream, with Tal, Harvey and Jesse safely seated inside.  They think we jumped.  We disagree.  We know the truth.

THE AFTERPARTY:  Tequila shots ensue. Romance blossoms. DVDs are viewed (and the day’s mysteries are solved).  Ceiling beams are climbed.  Naked. (Not by us.)  Details are forgotten.

For those of you who would like a little visual aid to confirm the foregoing, check out the video below from youtube.  However, if you’d like a video of a rat in labor, we’ll leave that to you to find for yourself.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_RlTSwTy-8

Don’t believe we did it?  We’ve got the DVD to prove it.  Can’t wait to watch it with you…

Much love from the bruised, battered and burned –

Heather and Jill

We are hanging out in the Nest with old friends the Brits (Nick, Lindsey and Dan) and the Slovenian (Munira) and new friend Cherie (from New Zealand), listening to The Cars and drinking Nile Specials.  Thought it might be nice to put together a group blog.  The Brits and came up from the Lake to party at Match and Mix tonight and head to Rwanda with us tomorrow AM (so pysched).  Collective/individual/drunken/singalong thoughts about Uganda follow:

HEATHER:
Perhaps our version of Uganda so far has been a bit idyllic; we’re in a relatively safe part of the country, but Cherie – who’s just arrived from the east, where she’s volunteering at a primary school – just told us about a smattering of murders that are happening in her district, allegedly by rebels.  Popular knowledge is that the big rebels (i.e. Lords Resistance Army) are safely tucked away in the north, but stories of random and frequent murders in areas six hours east highlight the realities of the region.  Luckily for Cherie (and others she’s working with), they have a security guard who stoically guards the area with a bow and arrow.   Hmmmmmmm……… 

But don’t worry parents!  We ARE safely tucked away in a peaceful place called Kabale, where the biggest worry is (potentially glue-sniffing?) town crazies who want to bestow their unintelligible but I’m sure infinitely wise musings upon the visiting Mzungos.  We will be sure to pass along this wisdom as soon as we’re able to dicipher.

DAN:
here we are, sat across from one another, smiling and sharing stories – only in Uganda could there be this collection of the finest people. We have the opportunity to mix with individuals that in modern life you wouldn’t have the time to. This is the main aspect of Africa and Uganda in particular -time, you have a lot of it. You have the chance to meet locals and other travellers, and befriend them – when in western city life do you have the time to achieve this? For this and the beauty i have seen (in the landscape and the people), I thank Uganda and the good friends I have met within it. 

CHERIE:
The more I travel around Uganda, the more I realise how rural and Ugandan my volunteer experience is…I am based at a boarding primary school in a tiny village in Rakai district, where there is no electricity or running water in the entire area, where we have a security guard to protect the children from being stolen for witchcraft child sacrifice [ED: this was a headline story in Uganda's daily paper today], and our second and newest guard is actually a soldier (who are apparently the worst of the worst in Uganda) and he is to protect our newly donated solar panels from being stolen, and also to protect us from the thugs (rumoured to be rebels) that are currently terrorising our district…but it really isn’t as bad as it sounds. On the bus across Uganda today I was blown away by how friendly and nice every single person on the bus was. Sleeping children were passed from person to person around the bus, everyone shared the food they’d bought through the window, and everyone became friends with the person they were sitting or standing next to.  This does not happen on buses in the western world…people come first in this part of the world, and I hope that they do not lose this as Uganda ‘develops’…

LINDSEY:
The people of this country are the most beautiful! The Ugandans we work with are so welcoming, funny and full of life. However, it’s great to meet people from all over the world who share being in Uganda. Life is good in this country…with lack of material possessions and want for anything people are so happy! Its an amazing place to experience, great to be humbled and alot of fun along with it. I’ve had too many beers now to write properly…but come to Africa and live life as its meant to be lived!!

NICK:
I’m now getting into my last week teaching in Uganda and there’s a lot that I’m learning about the way things work in schools over here…

The first is that the system here is very narrow – kids are taught a bare minimum of what the Western world thinks they should know. In our workshop about planet earth, the kids had no idea what the sea was! The kids here also struggle with being creative, an essential part of growing up and flourishing into your own person. In a newspaper workshop, we had 35 kids write a story about football. They see what each other are doing and conform, uniformly. However, there are glimmers of hope – one child, the youngest in the class wrote a story about child sacrifice – a breath of fresh air amongst the football tales. This was one of the moments that makes you realise some of what we are doing IS making a difference…some kids are learning to think for themselves outside the box and as a creative person myself it is a very satisfying experience.

All of us volunteers are a very small part of a massive scale of project. Although what we do is very hard to see results in, it is a great feeling to know that what we are doing is making some difference to some kid’s lives. Volunteers often expect to come here and change these kids and while this may not happen, in the long term the projects here are making a difference and hopefully will continue to change the lives of some of the children in Uganda.

JILL:
Some guy tried to sell us a baby last night. That was the first time I came face to face, or at least recognized, the reality of East Africa. We have visited local villagers in the hills on the border of Rwanda and we’ve read about the poverty and we’ve definitely experienced it as tourists (hopefully respectfully). But mostly we’ve been welcomed and treated as honored guests. When we took the time to venture out of our comfort zone we encountered things we have only read about. People drive trucks hundreds of miles through Africa stopping perhaps for a simple local meal and maybe a glance at the sole TV set up in a box on the street. We are so lucky to be sitting here in the Nest with friends, having conversations and listening to music and considering moving to the pub across the street. So we have deal with mice, mosquitos and dust. We don’t live with the kind of insane poverty that would provoke someone to considering selling their child. Yikes. Uganda is life-changing. Beautiful, lively, sad, crazy, life-changing. For sure.

MUNIRA:
If you want to SEE Africa … stay here for two weeks … If you want to BREATHE her … two months are enough … If you want to FEEL the real thing … do you know what I mean ????
Nice to meet you two … untypical amercian lawyers.

Group blog is complete, and we’re heading across the street for a little matching and mixing as promised. I (Heather) was once told by a documentary filmmaker who had spent a lot of time filming in East Africa that here you’ll find both the very best and the very worst in people. For the most part so far (baby seller aside) it’s been the very best. Story to be continued…

Love and hugs,
Jill & Heather

On Saturday a silverback mountain gorilla charged at us in the wilderness.  He was massive and angry.  We had invaded his turf.  Just another day in Africa.

We awoke at 4:30 AM Saturday morning and clamored about our room packing our day packs with bottled water and chocolate bars, attempting to shake off a few too many Nile Specials a la Friday night in the Nest (a cozy open-air, cushion-filled gathering space on the rooftop terrace of our hostel).  Our friend Moses had somehow worked his local magic last week to secure permits for us to join a group of eight others on a gorilla tracking adventure in Bwindi Inpenetrable National Park.  Very lucky for us, given that the others in our group had likely obtained their permits six months or more in advance, which is the norm.  We don’t ask questions.

Moses had also offered to drive us the approximately two hours to Bwindi starting at 5 AM.  He is really an amazingly helpful and nice guy and we are forever grateful for his generosity (hi Moses!).  As a result of the aforementioned Friday evening beers we mostly slept while Moses drove, whistling along to Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton on the tape deck (and we rely on each other… uh huh…) and when we weren’t sleeping we were feigning sleep to avoid glancing out the window to the cliffside abyss not two feet from our left tires.  The roads in Uganda are mostly unpaved, often winding perilously along mountainsides with little to no barrier separating terrified tourist from certain death.  Luckily Moses is a careful driver and we made it safe and sound to the Uganda Wildlife Authority base camp in the eastern part of Bwindi NP.  Almost half of the approximately 700 critically endangered mountain gorillas left in the world call Uganda’s Bwindi National Park home.

We were to spend the day tracking the Rushegura gorilla family.  At 8 AM the trek began innocently enough as our group (plus porters to carry the lazy European’s day packs) followed our guide Christopher down a well worn path surrounded by lush greenery.  A small group of trackers had set out at dawn to locate and follow the Rusheguras and help guide us to them via walkie talkie communications.  The park is enormous and we were warned that it may take anywhere from 15 minutes to over 8 hours to find the gorillas. The real adventure started as we turned off the path and began to descend into the forest– suddenly instead of following a trail we were climbing over fallen trees, scrambling up steep slopes and weaving our way through dense vegetation, including masses of tangled vines and poisonous stinging plants, with the help of a machete (Heather can explain in detail why it is ill advised to accidentally sit on said stinging plants). As a side note, we had luckily gotten some practice hiking and climbing the week before (when we did an 11 mile, 9 hour, 2500 meter climb in the hills surrounding beautiful Lake Bunyoni) as well as the previous evening when an ordinary business meeting with Edirisa’s Ugandan counsel turned into a pitch-black nighttime trek to a village in a remote valley inaccessible by car to serve legal papers on a fugitive headmaster who had embezzled several million shillings from a local school (a story for another time).

About 2.5 hours into our hike/climb/scramble Christopher turned to us and signaled to be silent.  A loud, gutteral roar confirmed that we had, in fact, found the gorillas.  There are no words to describe the first time you make eye contact with a massive, beautiful, gentle silverback gorilla.  We were frozen, awestruck. He sat about ten feet from us munching on a stalk of bamboo until deciding to move down further into the forest in search of the others in his family.  He led us first to two more silverbacks, two blackbacks and one juvenile male.  We moved quietly and slowly about their territory, stopping to gaze through the trees or shoot a photo or two.  At one point the juvenile ran past our guide and swatted him on the arm.   Christopher laughed and explained that this act was not aggressive at all– just like human kids,young  gorillas love to play.  That makes sense when you consider that gorillas share over 97% of their biological makeup with people.
 
Gorillas live in tight knit family groups containing between ten and 30 members.  The Rushegura family has 11 members (including two females and two babies).  We found the women and children a few meters uphill being guarded closely by the dominant silverback.  As we approached the five of them the male suddenly charged our group while beating his chest aggressively, baring his (very long, very sharp) teeth and roaring loudly.  We got the sense that this one wasn’t playing.  He stopped about five feet from us, dug his black-clawed hands into a fallen tree stump that tenuously separated man from beast and hostilely stared us down with his intense black eyes for what felt like an eternity.  Clinging to one another (as if that could help), neither of us moved a muscle or even breathed for about two minutes until the gorilla slowly backed away and Christopher warned sternly that it was now time to stop following the gorillas and to head back to  base camp.  It is rare for habituated gorillas to confront humans aggressively and it is unclear what provoked that particular silverback.  He may have had a fight with the other silverbacks in the family and been driven from the group (in which case he may have been attempting bravado in order to convince the females of his continuing dominance). Whatever the reason, it was a truly heartstopping experience that neither of us will ever forget.  It took us over two hours to make our way out of the dense vegetation and back to headquarters, giving us time to reflect on our experience and recover from the minor heart attack.
 
Note that gorilla tracking is severely expensive (it was certainly not in our $50 per day budget), physically challenging and perhaps psychotic (stalking wild gorillas?!?!  Really?!?!) but we think it is worth every penny, hassle, sore muscle, stinging backside and heart attack.  It may also be viewed as dangerous.  Only certain family groups in each park are habituated to human contact and there is the risk that you will encounter some of the truly “wild” mountain gorillas.  It was also in Bwindi National Park in 1999 that eight tourists were kidnapped and subsequently murdered by rebels.  However there is now a significant army presence within the park and it is generally considered safe, although this isn’t necessarily true in nearby DR Congo which, along with Rwanda, hosts the world’s other remaining mountain gorillas.  In DRC it’s a bit easier to secure a permit to track the gorillas, but also more likely that you’ll have an unwelcome encounter with militant rebel gangs that call the Parc National de Virungas home).  To ensure our safety, each tracking group is accompanied by an AK-47-wielding bodyguard (AK-47?  No biggie). 
 
We are happy to report that poaching has been stopped in Bwindi and the Uganda Wildlife Authority undertakes huge conservation efforts to protect the endangered gorillas (the Rushegura family bred a new infant in June 2008!).  Finally, note that the demand for tracking permits each year greatly exceeds the supply, so book well in advance (up to one year) unless you have a secret, magical local Ugandan friend to pull some strings…

We still can’t get over the most insane and amazing experience of our lives.  Video coming soon!

Hearts,
J&H