I am one of those who can never attempt something whose outcome cannot be proved, but that does not mean I cannot be around to witness those daring to do what I fear to do.
During the recently concluded three-day media engagement in Jinja, organized by the Ministry of Tourism, Wildlife, and Antiquities, we were taken on a ride to experience some activities in Jinja firsthand, and one of them was bungee jumping on the River Nile.
In Uganda, bungee jumping can only be done in Jinja, specifically on the River Nile. The activity involves jumping from a man-made cliff with a bungee cord connected to either two legs or the whole body.
When our group of over 30 journalists arrived at the Bungee Uganda facility, we were briefed about the experience to enable us to make a decision whether to dare it or chicken out. Of course, I listened to the briefing, but with an already made decision at the back of my mind (I won’t dare this experience).
Afterward, those who wanted to dare the experience were taken through registration, making payments, and signing the waiver form. There were eight participants who chose to go for the longest jump, which goes all the way down, enabling one to touch the River Nile itself.
Participants were weighed to determine the kind of chord each would be tied to, and after they took the stairs up the cliff, while I and others who feared to experience it went to the balcony, ready to cheer our people.
As I watched people prepare to take the leap of faith off the bungee jumping platform, I could sense the fear. Some were visibly shaking; others were taking deep breaths to calm their nerves. It was as if they were standing at the edge of a precipice, staring into the unknown.
I realized that the fear wasn’t just about the jump itself but about the anticipation, the waiting, and the uncertainty. It was about the what-ifs and the maybes. What if the cord snaps? What if the harness fails? What if I don’t make it back up?
Kenneth Kazibwe, a journalist with Nile Post, said that although he has acrophobia, he had to tick bungee jumping off his bucket list. He joked about how his will was in safe hands if he didn’t make it through.
Another colleague of mine who chickened out claimed that he was not participating because he had done it before and saw no reason to do it again. In my mind, I was like, ‘shut up, bro.’
But as I saw people take the leap, one by one, amidst cheers from us and funny noises from the participants, I also saw something else. I saw courage, determination, and a sense of triumph.
I saw people facing their fears head-on and emerging victorious on the other side. Bungee jumping is a metaphor for life itself. It’s about facing our fears, taking risks, and pushing ourselves to the limits.
And as I witnessed it in Jinja, I realized that the fear of bungee jumping is not something to be ashamed of but something to be acknowledged and overcome.
