The Source of the Nile
The Nile River. One of the great rivers of the world, the river that every schoolchild in America learns about as being sacred to the Egyptians. There is a certain mystique to this great stretch of water and I didn’t think the day would come when I would lay my eyes on this great river. But times are good in Uganda and the other day my group and I went to Jinja, a two-hour drive from Kampala, where the Nile begins it’s epic journey.
The Source of the Nile is an obvious tourist trap. The walkway down to the river is lined with stalls selling wonderfully overpriced souvenirs and tacky t-shirts. The whole site is sponsored by Bell, a brewing company, which has placed billboards and posters all over the place. Once we got past all of the shops and banners, we hopped on a boat that took us out into the Nile and upstream towards Lake Victoria. Along the way we were shown some wildlife in the form of Kingfishers (awesome) and Monitor Lizards (even awesomer). We landed on an island in the middle of the river that touched Lake Victoria and jutted out into the nascent Nile.
A little bit about the Nile. The first white man to “discover” the source was John Speke, a British Explorer. The Nile runs through three different countries: it starts in Uganda, makes its way through the Sudan, and then finishes it journey in Egypt. It winds for about 4,000 miles north, one of the few rivers in the world to flow in such a direction. It takes the water flowing out of Lake Victoria three months to reach the Nile Delta in Egypt.
A sign marked the “Official beginning of the River Nile” and a huge concrete block marked kilometer 0 of the Nile. Naturally we climbed all over the block and took copious amounts of pictures to prove our claims of having been at the source of the Nile. A considerable life goal achieved.
Bujugali Falls
After visiting the source of the Nile we went to lunch at a fine Indian establishment. We then headed to Bujugali Falls, a series of waterfalls on the Nile. There is a dam being build down stream of the falls that will be completed next year, upon completion the falls will be submerged below the reservoir and will be lost.
We were lucky enough to catch the view. The most amazing part of the section of the river is the pure volume of water that passes by at any given moment. The waters are roiling and you can watch the current take bits of vegetation and shoot them along the surface at an incredible rate, one can only imagine how powerful it is under the surface. While we sat in awe of the power of the river, a local man came up in a pair of shorts, holding a Jerry can. For 10,000 shillings, or about five dollars, he was willing to descend the Falls using only a jerry can for buoyancy. I personally didn’t want his blood on my hands if he failed in his suicidal quest, but others in my group were certainly ready to pay to see this feat. So pay they did, and swim he did. The current slowly grabbed him and then yanked him down the falls. He disappeared for a good four or five seconds in a huge white wave, but he popped right up and floated to safety. He emerged smiling and 10,000 shillings richer. We later found out that 1 out of 5 of the men who do this die while performing this insane stunt. If they lose their grip on the jerry can, the water pushes them to the bottom and pins them. It blows my mind what people will do for a little money.
We had an hour to wander the falls but after 20 minutes we had seen all there was to see. So my friend Dani and I decided that the best course of action would be to go for a little swim. I mean when was the last time you got to swim in the Nile? We didn’t have swimming gear so we went in our skivvies, the locals just looked confused. We found a nice eddy away from the roaring river and immersed ourselves; we emerged really wet and really happy. Another life goal, down.
When we returned to the bus, our program coordinator looked at us and asked why we were wet. We told her why and she mentioned that we probably had just risked getting Bilharzias, a pleasant little parasite that attacks your liver and copulates eternally in your bowels. Our joy turned to out right fear. Robbie, always willing to cheer a fellow group member up, proceeded to read off the high-risk spots for the parasite: 1. Slow moving water, 2. Down stream from people washing clothes, 3. Where snails are visible, 4. Shallow water. Each one was like a stab to the heart; they all applied to where we had chosen to swim. Yikes. Two months in Africa and I had been fine but now I had to worry about contracting a parasite.
Kampala
So naturally I went on a hunt for anti-Bilharzias medication. Two pharmacies didn’t have it and they had been out of stock for two months, apparently its not very common in Kampala, only silly Muzungus contract the worm from swimming in the Nile a few hours away. But I finally found a place that had it, and for less than 75¢ I was cured of a possible parasite, wonderful.
A note about Ugandan Pharmacies: They are awesome. You walk in, tell them what is wrong with you, and they happily supply the needed medication, no prescription needed. And the drugs are incredibly cheap, and the most I have ever paid was three dollars for some cold medication.
On our last day in Kampala we had a 10-page paper due so most of the day was spent on that. But at night we went out to dinner as a group and came together as one for the last time for at least a month. The next day, our ISP started.
ISP
Tuesday was set aside as a travel day to our respective ISP locations. Most people headed back to Gulu for their projects while Dani headed down to Kigali (she will be missed), Robbie stayed in Kampala, and Whitney and I headed over to Mbarara.
Whitney will be my travel companion for the next few weeks and I couldn’t be happier to have her by my side. Whitney and I get along incredibly well.
We arrived at the bus park at 9:30 a.m. to catch the 10 o’clock bus to Mbarara. We were so happy to be on time, but Africa time was in full effect and the bus didn’t pull out of Kampala until 12:15 p.m. We just chatted and observed the crowd for the two and a half hours of down time. At one point, the Toto song “Africa” came on the radio, Whitney and I broke into a little rendition of the song, but luckily for the greater Uganda population, the bus was quite empty.
Once we finally set out, the going was good. It’s incredible to see the differences in roads between the regions. In Gulu, the roads and general infrastructure are terrible, but in Kampala and Mbarara (where President Museveni hails from) the roads are all being worked on and are smooth and unbroken. As nice as it was to drive on the roads, it was still frustrating to think about how everyone in Gulu suffers because of the favoritism shown by the president for the South.
Every time we pulled into a village or town the bus would be swarmed by people hawking their goods: water bottles, cokes, ground nuts, meat on a stick, biscuits, and in some cases, grasshoppers. The meat on a stick is incredibly tempting, bountiful bouquets of blackened beef. But in the selling process, the vendors attempt to reach up to the high windows of the bus and smear the meat all over the side; anything sanitary about the cooking process goes right out the window and renders it inedible to my weak western stomach. But they sure as hell look good.
The ride was incredibly pleasant until we were about an hour out and children started crying and it started to rain. The buses certainly aren’t airtight and the window I was next to started pouring water right into my lap, even though the window was closed. Luckily I had my rain jacket handy, the other bus patrons weren’t so fortunate.
Mbarara
After a very long travel day we reached Mbarara around 5:30 p.m. We decided not to get off at the bus park and wait until the bus reached the center of town. We made a bad decision. The bus passed right on through the center of town and out of Mbarara. We made a desperate attempt to stop the bus and the pulled over to the side of the road and dumped us out. We called our contact in Mbarara, Oliver, and he became very nervous about our location. He jumped on a motorcycle and buzzed over to our side of town. For the next hour he proceeded to tell us how worries about us he was. He took us to dinner and we noshed on meat on a stick (sanitary this time) and then set us up in the “Royal Prince Hotel.” For less than $7 a night Whitney and I both have self-contained rooms of much better quality than our rooms in Kampala. We are content.
We were hoping to stay in the Refugee Settlement tonight but it seems our accommodations are in limbo right now. After a recent forced repatriation of Rwandanese in July, Oliver, an advocate for Rwandan Refugees, has been at odds with the Settlement staff. So it looks like his role as my advisor got a little bit more complicated as he won’t be able to spend as much time at the camp as was originally planned. It looks like things will proceed normally though and we should have housing at the Settlement tomorrow night.
It’s been a hectic week but the ISP is finally upon us! I can’t wait to get to Nakivale tomorrow and get going! I hope all is well with you wherever you may be.
-Muzungu currently in Mbarara eagerly awaiting his first visit to Nakivale Refugee Settlement
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