The River Nile

On our way to the airport last week, we stopped at Murchison Falls National Park, and spent a phenomenal night in a lodge next to the Nile River. We could hear hippos snorting and spraying water as they sat submerged near the bank. Hundreds of birds and the buzz of insects filled the air. A family of baboons picked through food scraps and trash, alongside a group of warthogs. Every hour or so, the diesel engine of the ferry rumbled on and spewed dark smoke, slowly chugging across the wide river, ladened down with Land Rovers and pedestrians, and the occasional military vehicle. Every hour or so, that is, until it came time for us to cross the river! One of the engines apparently broke down, and without it, the ferry wasn't strong enough to make it across the strong current to the other side. So there it sat, as the line of cars and people grew. Fortunately, we were traveling with people who speak the Local Language (as they call it) to figure out what was going on.

In the US, when a bus has mechanical troubles, there are always at least a few indignant passengers. How dare the public transportation system inconvenience us! But in Uganda, everyone seems to be a bit more accepting when things don't go as planned. They will fix it...sometime. When? Hard to say. It could be a long time. Any estimate of exactly how long? At this point, someone will probably give you a time...two or three hours? But this answer should be considered a polite way of getting you to shut up already, and should not be taken literally.

So, instead of crossing the river and getting on the road to Kampala, we had to turn around and go back the way we came. Back along the two track dirt road through the park, pausing for herds of antelope to cross. Back along the road past the IDP camps, smiling at naked, waving babies. Back 70 km to Gulu Road, past the overturned truck, still on its side in the ditch, with the driver camped out next to it. And lucky for us, this detour ended up delaying us enough so that we got into Kampala just in time for Friday afternoon rush hour. Gridlocked traffic circles, dusty sections of unpaved or partially paved roads crawling with bikes, and motorcycles and pedestrians and taxis, all generally following the convention of staying on the left side of the road unless there came a need to pass, or to avoid a chicken or goat, or small child.

But I could hardly be angry at such an ancient and mesmerizing river for inconveniencing us in this way. I spent hours gazing at the river, thinking about how it separates people and places, how massive and prized the perch are that come from its waters, how there are very few other waterways in the world that have presented such challenge for a millenia and more.

"The Nile, forever new and old,
Among the living and the dead,
Its mighty, mystic stream has rolled."
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow