The cold water attacked my skin as I plunged into a ‘natural pool’ that followed a modest 3-meter cascade. But the rush of adrenaline quickly reversed this feeling and my head emerged from the water while my arms were grasping for the black stones on the riverbank. The strong current kept my seemingly powerless body from advancing even a bit. Luckily Luke – or how we like to call him, Lucky Luke – reached out his arm and pulled me to the wall of protruding stones. My aching muscles took a well-deserved break from the past 20 seconds. It had felt like hours. You must be wondering, ‘Oh no, what happened? An adventure-gone-wrong?’ No, it might be hard to believe, but I did this voluntarily, and I actually quite enjoyed it. It was almost December, while the rainy season had supposedly ended a month ago we’ve still felt the undeniable effects of climate change with constant heavy showers since arriving. The rainfall caused this small waterfall, and consequently its underlying whirlpool, to be gushing with dark but clear mountain water. “You jump here, it’s okay, you jump,” said our guide John-Bosco while he was sitting on a nearby rock skillfully and effortlessly slicing the pineapple that we had haggled at the Mbale central market earlier that day. I like to take on challenges, but I don’t easily step out of my comfort zone without at least some coercion. So as I was staring at the water – half-dressed in my swimsuit – John-Bosco absentmindedly assured us that we could jump. Yet I was held back by my analytical and uncertain brain. As you can guess, I did not jump first. A week ago, the most ‘dangerous’ thing I’d done was white water rafting at the source of the Nile in Jinja. This, I was convinced to do by my frivolous friend Friso; who coincidentally was also the first to take the leap into this whirlpool. Lucky Luke followed suit, followed by me – who had decided that the seemingly strong and dangerously current would probably hold up fine. And it was..! Thanks, Luke. I sat on a rock near John-Bosco, surrounded by a dewy grass field, chewing on fresh pineapple, listening to the sounds of the lush forest and rushing water; I was listening to life. In the nearby distance – just past the cows and goats – stretched the coffee bean plantations, the main income of the community here. Perhaps this sounds unbelievable, but the only coffee I drank were cappuccinos – even though I am slightly lactose intolerant – and mainly, not going to lie, because I liked the foam. The past month here, I have sadly developed a slight Ugandan coffee addiction. Also, I drink my coffee black now. Who have I become? I’ll try to quench this desire when I get back home by stuffing my suitcase with coffee beans. But I’m sure this will only last 3 months tops. 6:30, an early morning in the van; we had to make our way to the bustling morning market before continuing to the slopes of Mount Elgon. There, we would hike the Sipi falls (a series of 3 waterfalls). Shanitah – a British-Jamaican Italian – loves sugar cane, but they lack this delicacy in Italy. Looking at her then, in our Hackney-style van, it seemed she was in her own personal heaven. Machete in one hand and two freshly bought sugar cane sticks in the other. She was eating it just like how I would have eaten a crisp apple. Driving through the Karamoja planes of Mbale – blasting Sweet Sensation by Sheebah – with the roof window open and sugar cane in our mouths. We tossed the dry remnants up and out the window. Like magic – and maybe some physics – they didn’t fall back down! Instead, they left a trail behind us. The unmarked hike ‘trail’ began at the edge of a cliff-like slope that separated the planes from the waterfall. I looked in front of me and took in the beauty and the mysteries that the scenery holds. The path that would eventually bring me to a spot where I’d sit on a rock and eat pineapple. I took the first step down and descended into the ravine.