River Nile

I continue to be blessed by good fortune since I last told of my adventures in Uganda. Last weekend I was able to travel to Jinja, a town just west of Kampala (the capital) with friends and go white water rafting on the River Nile. As I sat in the hostile on a beautiful Saturday morning – sunshine, crisp air, birds welcoming the day…the whole nine yards, really – I could barely contain my fear of what lay ahead. Encouraged (or should we say, berated) by my fellow volunteers, I agreed to do something that was definitely not in the lifeplan. As we watched a video of rafters that had gone before us, my stomach churned at the thought of intentionally putting myself on an inflatable rubber raft, allowing fate to take us where it would – possibly flipping over, falling out, hitting rocks…you name it, I allowed the thoughts to enter my head and race around frantically until finally I took one of the deepest breaths of my life and literally jumped in feet first. I am so grateful to my bullying friends for taunting me with such gems as, 'Come on grandma (I am the oldest in my volunteer group), we'll take it easy on you.' And, 'It's the River Nile…who gets to do this?!' Indeed, I thought, as we practiced flipping over with our able-bodied and confidence-instilling guide, fully submerged in the water of history, of suffering, of triumph, literally the lifeblood of the nation…who does get to do this? We spent the entire day making our thirty kilometre journey over class five rapids. The white water, nearly deafening with its powerful surge, presented a challenge and an opportunity for those that ventured through it.

Towards the end of our day, knees sunburned, arms aching for relief from the effort of pulling our raft the distance necessary to finish our travel, it began to rain. Sitting on the raft, we watched the clouds climb over the hills and cliffs that hug either side of the river's banks. As we made out way past small islands in the middle of the river, I saw something I had never seen before – enormous cranes were sitting on the branches of a bright red flowering tree in the middle of one of the islands with their wings akimbo – they were drying their wings, preparing to take flight away from the very storm that we were labouring to raft right through. It was an amazing site and offered me evidence of evolution, of resourcefulness, of what was possible when one listens to one's natural surroundings for cues on behaviour, on making the next step in one's journey. As we ended our day's adventure I felt ready…for what, I am still unsure…but ready, nonetheless.

What I saw on the River Nile called into question the actions of many of our ancestors. I know they were privy to the same sites as I…the glorious, colourful river banks at times busy with the activity of living – women and children washing clothes on the rocks, animals drinking from the water – and at times so quite and untouched by human hands that one felt they might be the only person ever to behold the particular stretch of land. I kept wondering: After witnessing such peaceful, tranquil beauty, how could our forefathers have pillaged the very peoples and land that gave rise to such wonders? And then: How could we have done the same to our unblemished homeland and our native peoples? When one is blessed with the opportunity to explore, to adventure…how is it that that journey turns into conquest? I have no answers to these questions, but I worry that we are continuing this legacy of conquest today as we offer 'liberation' in the name of democracy, as we turn our eyes away from humanity and towards the almighty dollar.

Okay, I will take a large step down off of my soap-box (I left extra room in my bags so that it would fit…me without a soap-box in Africa?! Never!) and share my next piece of exciting news: I have managed to pass the Maryland Bar Exam! After facing my fear of the unknown, of injury, of incompetence on the River Nile, I decided to live the lesson and (thanks to modern technology) logged onto the internet available at our hostile and saw a 'P' next to my seat number. Shaking and crying at this unexpected (and welcomed!) piece of news, I called Barbara in Budapest – we passed the bar exam!

I am not sure why I am so fortunate to live this incredible life, but I am sure that I am one of the lucky few. I am reminded in countless ways each day that there is always something to be grateful for – that in the midst of our hurrying to meet deadlines, straining to pay bills, rushing to get the kids (not mine, of course!) to practice, cramming for an exam, wondering if we are making the 'right' choices – our respective cups run-eth over.

Much peace and love to you and yours…