The Waterfall

We had breakfast and said "Bye" to Alicia, who was planning to fly back early to Bogota.

Ahmad and I did a live television interview with Dr. Ezepue on the NT national television station about ORBIS and the symposium. We took calls as well--the first caller was an irate gentlemen, upset that live broadcasting of the under 17 soccer world cup had been interrupted. No more call were taken after that. The first call notwithstanding, the interview went fantastic with discussions centering on eyebanking, early ophthalmologic exams for new onset eye symptoms, and acknowledgement of the enthusiasm of the local ophthalmologists. Ahmad also did a great job informing everyone of the purpose and history of Orbis, leading into an overview of the success of this mission.

We then came back and changed out of our jackets and ties. Devin, Ahmad, Amelia and I went with a male resident and a female consultant, Dr. Ezegwui, and her three kids to a "waterfall." But before we left, I asked the front desk attendant why he had was wearing two ties. He explained that there was about to be a wedding and he was trying to help the best man get his tie on. He implored us to help. Feeling sympathetic and a bit of wonderment at the proximity of the tying of the tie to nuptialization, Ahmed and I went to work helping these chaps out. It was a nice exchange and we were happy to help the groom try and match the sartorial style and elegance of his bethrothed (who we saw later that day).

Back to the hike--described to Amelia and Ahmad in minimal terms as a half hour walk across flat terrain. It actually turned out to be much more than this.

As our vehicle turned and headed into the densely vegetated forest; Ahmed, after a period of silence, inexplicably to me brought up a random comment about the foilage at the Monastery being a great place for war! "The dense foilage would provide many hiding places," he elaborated.. in response to my gaze of puzzlement. My question was "But what brought war to your mind; we are in a monastery?" "Eventually to bring balance and hoping that the tears in Ahmed's eyes (as well as the rest of us) were those of laughter and not hurt, I thought a little levity and more gravitas was in order. Thus, I been enquiring of the male resident about the Biafran war and acknowledging (on Ahmad's behalf) this jungle would truly be a great place to have a war. After a quick review of the history of the Biafran war, Ahmed , not surprsingly I guess, gave a full account of the details of the war. Completely confused as to how Ahmed knew so much about the Biafran was, I was nonetheless quite impressed. We were still chuckling several minutes later as the bus came to a halt inside the monastery grounds, at which point Amelia promptly noted that she "had to go to the bathroom." I chivalrously pulled out a travel pack of mini Kleenex for her. Grasping it with great gratitude, she hurriedly headed into an unpopulated area to find a spot. The male resident accompanied her to scout out a place. As they disappeared into the distance, the resident asked her in a mattter-of -fact tone if she had to "pee or poo." As she related later, " I thought the question was a little personal. But after regaining my composure, I replied."Pee." A suitable spot was found. Business was accomplished and we began our nice "Sunday stroll."


Uh actually ...a bit different .... Though it started out like a scene out of the "Sound of Music" (in Africa) as originally envisioned, the nature of the terrain began changing. The path started getting steeper. Vines formed natural steps. The green bushes started getting closer on either side. The firm ground gave way a bit more...There were many Nigerians on all sides of us, engaged in purposeful walk and excited talk. They were moving at a rather rapid clip and a bit more focus than I would associate with a "relaxing stroll" Every once in awhile we would pass somebody drenched and excitingly shouting "The Water. The Water." I am thinking "Oh okay, it seems that you might actually be able to duck your head under the Fall." As we kept advancing we encountered increasing numbers people of all ages were singing and laughing and talking excitedly as we made our way down a muddy path. Enjoying the beautiful harmonies and polyrhythmic singing, we stopped suddenly. We had reached a 3 feet creek, with about 6 inches of water. The forward momentum of the Orbis group came to an abrupt halt. We glanced down at the stream and at everyone taking their shoes off in order to traverse it . Luckily for me, earlier the male resident had noticed my black leather dress shoes and had insisted on buying me a set on Nigerian flip-flops--this despite Amelia's protestations that I should have to "muddy my shoes to learn my lesson"--something about packing right.... We had even bought an extra pair of bright green (with design) slippers for Ahmad. But he was insistent on wearing his black leather shoes. Everyone else had appropriate hiking footwear.

Realizing at this point that this hike might take on a different character than originally expected, we each made an individual calculation as to whether or not to take our shoes off and go on, or just turn around--to perhaps go past "the point of no return." The residents who were with us had never gone past this point, so really couldn't help in our decision either. As I was pondering the possibilites of schistosomiasis, onchocerciasis, and other parasites that might be residing the water, I looked up and saw that Devin and Amelia had made the decision for the group. Ahmad and I rolled off up our pants, took off our shoes, vanquished thoughts of tropical parasitemia as we crossed to join our barefoot buddies.

Sensing no acute signs of parasitic infection, we marched forward on the dirt path--passing large "trains" of people coming the other side. Some were carrying jugs of water, considered holy, on their heads as we passed their smiling faces. Others were excitedly telling us about the water. I couldn't really understand the details of these passing conversations, but started to realize that this hike could indeed be completely different than imagined.

We then came to a river bed at the mouth of a canyon. The canyon walls at least 100 feet high and insinuating did not allow a further look as to what lay ahead. Realizing this was our last chance to turn back...we hesitated. In the space of the hesitation, it was clear that we were surrounded by very, very happy Nigerians, singing, dancing and praying. No one seemed to be wretching, writhing, or showing other signs of sickness. Having "boldly"surmounted our first creek, we felt rather intrepid--ready to handle the river (and whatever lurked beneath). As we sloshed through the river of various depth from 6' to 3 feet, we started feeling a childhood sense of joy from doing something we weren't planning on doing. All around, behind, in front and on the side of us people were walking with us. Amelia, as usual, was making friends with many of the Igbo people around us.

Turning through dark caverns, with water sliding down the walls beside us, we were in communion with hundreds of Igbo Nigerians singing and laughing and dancing and praying and soaking up the water. The turns were rather abrupt and I lost sight of our fearless leader, Devin. Knowing he was leading the charge we kept marching forward, occasionally, okay more than occasionally, wincing with pain from stepping on the steep rocks invisible under the flowing water. The flowing water and the flowing people kept us moving forward in a near-hypnotic march, as we were focused on avoiding sharp rocks and not falling into the water en bloc,and intermittently looking up to see where the rest of the group was.

It was amazing--so much human African spirit rejoicing at the beauty of nature and the nature of God.
Amelia pointed out to me a spiderweb on the side of the cavern about 50 feet up-- with a ray of sunlight reflecting off and shining through the wet silk. Her only words were "This is one of those moments."-- a reference to discussions we have had in the past where one is totally opened to the Spirit, to God.It was truly transcendent moment. Everything stopped. I hope one day, Ahmad, will paint it. He is an accomplished oil painter. (But don't as ask him about his childhood violin lessons).


When we got to the end of the riverbed, the canyons which had varied between 2 and 6 feet wide, opened up into a natural amphitheater about 60 x 60 feet.
At the end of this was the waterfall-- rushing down a sheer rock face into the base of the river. The loud Fall was a great acoustic backdrop for all the pilgrims and celebrants in naturally harmonious praise, dancing, and laughing...
Some would say they were "catching the spirit." I stood there with Ahmed, Amelia, and transifixed--just took it all in.
At one point Amelia, in awe of the whole scene, asked someone how long they stayed here at the end of the journey to the Fall. In typical Nigerian fashion, the woman answered, "Not long. Once we get here, we turn around. Some people are coming. Some people are going."
That brought us back from our group fugue state and we started heading back.

We then navigated the rocky, and at times sandy, way back through the river bed, clutching the walls of the cavern to keep from falling. Luckily no one fell in the water and exposed themself to any seriously high titer of parasites. No river snakes were seen. No flash floods occurred, and we made it back to the mouth of the riverbed.

As we emerged from the riverbed, shook ourselves dry, and regained our bearings on solid ground, we were surrounded by many others who had just completed the pilgrimmage. Ahmed, perhaps still inhaling the air of exhiliration, greeted everyone around us with great sincerity with the unwritten message that we have shared something fantastic with you. Shaking his head alternately left and right while walking forward as though on a great diplomatic stage, he beamed out "Anisha! Anisha!" He must have uttered this word about 15 times. Later on the path we learned that the word, "Anisha" does not mean "Hello," but "white person." Upon learning that this was the meaning, Ahmend's first response was "But this is very bad."

Onward we walked and were pleasantly surprised by seeing the rest of the Orbis staff who had driven here, after a surgery for congenital ectropion.


It was one of the most incredible experiences I have ever had.
I was very fortunate to share it with my friends.