My philosophy in life has always been of the Ralph Waldo Emerson mindset: "Always do what you are afraid to do."  It's true what they say...those things that you fear the most usually turn out to be the most worthwhile.  However, I might have outdone myself a little this time.
      Last weekend, I signed up to go whitewater rafting on the Nile.  My trip to Jinja left me anxious to get back there to try to battle the mighty river in a little inflatable raft.  They are currently constructing a dam upstream from Jinja which is scheduled to be finished by the end of the year.  While this dam is definitely necessary to help solve the electricity problems that plague the area, this means that most of the river's largest rapids will disappear within a few months.  I wanted the honor of being one of the last few people to experience this awesome adrenaline rush...and what a rush it was!
     The first hour in the water was spent learning all of the skills necessary to keep us alive throughout the journey.  We learned basic paddle instructions: "forward" "back paddle" "Dig hard" "DIG HARDER" "Hold on" "Get down" "Look away".  More importantly, we learned to follow these commands with a military-like precision.  Battling Class 5 rapids is almost an art form.  Paddle strokes must be made at exactly the right time. Weight in the raft must be shifted in certain spots.  We were also forced to jump out the raft and learn the proper position to float in (in order to prevent our legs from snapping on the rocks hidden beneath the rapids).  We then climbed back on the raft....or, in my case, were pulled back onto the raft.  We learned how to anchor our paddles to prevent us from breaking the nose or knocking out the teeth of our neighbors.  Finally, our raft was flipped and we were supposed to learn to find the air pockets underneath in case we were ever trapped.  I say 'supposed to' because I never could manage to find one...all I ever did was swallow a whole lot of river water until I managed to pop out the other side, coughing and gasping for air.  If all these skills were necessary for my survival, I wasn't really sure I wanted to do this anymore.  But I absolutely refused to chicken out.
   We were off, with me mumbling a few half-hearted prayers under my breath.  We approached the first rapid...a Class 2.  Even the 'small' class 2 left me a little shaky on the other side.  The idea that this was the smallest of the rapids that we would be seeing that day did absolutely nothing to ease my nerves.  We pushed on, next up was Bujagali Falls, the crazy Class 5 rapid that inspired me to make this whole trip in the first place.  As we approached, we could see all the Mzungus on the shore with their cameras, waiting to witness our struggle.  Our first Class 5 went relatively smoothly and my nerves began to ease a bit.  This all changed at our next rapid, a Class 3.  Expecting an easier ride, none of us were prepared when our raft hit a wall of water and flipped into the air.  Caught off guard, I forgot to hold onto the rope of the raft and was swept away by the rapids.  I simply tucked my legs and rode out the waves until a safety kayaker paddled to my rescue.

Standing in front of Bujagali Falls...a Class 5

     As we pressed on, thunderstorm clouds filled the sky ahead of us.  We paddled faster, racing the rains.  We came to our last class 5 rapid of the morning...Big Brother, the most technical rapid we would battle.  We were instructed in exactly the pattern of strokes and maneuvers necessary to ride the rapid's giant waves and holes.  After practicing the technique several times through, we had reached the edge of the rapid.  The whole setting was very foreboding, as our raft picked up speed, rushed forward by the hands of the river, a clap of thunder sounded in the distance.  I remember thinking in my head "If I have to die today, at least this would be an awesome way to go."  The ride itself was insane.  Huge waves of green water washed over us.  Our raft would fly into the air and I would be bracing myself for the flip, when we would just pop out on the other side of the wall of water.  We managed to ride all four waves and holes in the rapid and made it to the other side where we got to watch the remaining teams battle.
     We then stopped on a little rocky island in the middle of the river for a much needed lunch break.  We gorged ourselves on fresh bread, meats, cheeses, local avocados and salad before setting out to battle the remaining of the rapids.  The second part of the day entailed lots of paddling with only four rapids in between.  I was thankful for the long stretches of peaceful paddling along the river.  We were allowed to remove our gear and jump into the river for a refreshing swim.  However, all of the paddling left my already burning arms nearly numb.
     Unfortunately, about an hour after lunch, we finally lost the race with the impending storm clouds.  Rain began to pound down on us.  The sky darkened and all warmth from the sun disappeared.  We were literally huddled in the raft, pressing forward desperately for the blue sky we could see ahead.  Finally, after about an hour, we reached our next set of rapids just as the rain was letting up.  I can't really remember the details of these rapids...only that they included two class 3's and one class 5 but they were otherwise pretty uneventful.  Their memory has been overshadowed by the experience of our last rapid of the day....a nasty Class 6 and 5 that proved to be by far our craziest ride.  The first part of the rapid included a 7-foot waterfall and was classified as a class 6.  We were not skilled enough, neither stupid enough, to attempt to paddle this rapid.  Instead, we paddled to the shore where we carried our raft a few yards downstream before hopping back in.
     I honestly couldn't tell the difference between this half of the rapid and the first part.  They both looked like a class 6 and death to me.  However, by this point, I just wanted to paddle the thing so I could get off the raft, change into some dry clothes and curl up on the bus for some rest.  Literally, within 2 seconds of paddling out into the rapid, our raft hit a wall and flipped.  We were told that if we flipped to let go of the raft.  Otherwise, we would surely drown.  Since I could never remember to hold onto the raft in the first place, I had no trouble at all remembering to let go this time.  However, when I came back up to the surface, I realized the raft had flipped on top of me.  Although, we were instructed to stay calm in these situations, there is really no way not to panic.  There is water swirling all around you.  You have no idea which way is up and which way is down.  All you want to do is take a breath but every time you do, you get a mouth full of river water instead.  Finally after just a few seconds (which really felt more like a few minutes) I broke to the surface.  As soon as I took a gasp of air, I was swept back under by the next wall of water.  I rode out the rest of the rapid before being hauled back to the raft by one of my saviors, the safety kayakers.
     After completing our journey, we spent about an hour enjoying some chapatis, mystery meat on a stick, and fresh pineapple while reminiscing about the highlights of the day with our teammates.  I also took this time to purchase a few photos of the day's adventures.  Just in case anyone doesn't believe me, I now have photographic evidence, including a pretty epic picture of our raft in mid-flip.  In all, it took about a week for my burning muscles to recover from the four hours, ten rapids, and 31 kms that were paddled that afternoon.