Waiting for the sunrise
by Katelyn Rosevear
Squish. I groggily rolled over. A leak. “Not good”, I thought as I shivered. Cool rainwater was pouring out of my foam, camping mattress into a pool on the tent floor. The darkness of the night absorbed the pitiful beam from my canister flashlight, as I shone the light towards my watch. It was 11:30 pm. I guess the adventure of a lifetime was not to be without excitement.
A week and a half ago, I had packed two small suitcases and boarded a plane on a transcontinental excursion. I had journeyed farther away from home than ever before and made my way to the African nation of Uganda. Halfway through the trip, our group ventured to a beautiful riverside campsite for four days of exploration in Mbale, Uganda. The campsite was perched along the mountainside next to a gorgeous, flowing waterfall, which was tinted a reddish color due to the runoff of water over the red soil brought on by rainy season. Every evening was accompanied by a downpour of rain. Standing alongside the river, looking up at the mighty waterfall, feeling the mist against my face, was one of the most awe-inspiring sights I had ever laid my eyes upon.
After a long day of traveling and hiking in the mountains, I eagerly anticipated the moment my head would meet my pillow. To reach my tent, I first had to climb up a rickety and slippery mountain path made with large rocks damp from the humidity, while the night threatened of yet another rainstorm. I could already hear the dull roar of thunder in the distance, promising to bring rain any moment. Making the climb to my tent took all the energy I had remaining and I quickly lay on the simple mattress, falling asleep almost instantly, before the two others in my tent even had the chance to settle into the tent.
Awaking to the cold sensation of water on my feet was disorienting. “Is anyone else getting wet?” I called out to the others. I heard a muffled groan and the sound of a body turning over. Apparently the others were not victims of the tent leak as they continued to sleep soundly. I pulled my knees up to my chin, bringing my feet out of the every growing puddle in the middle of the mattress, and tried to fall back asleep. A chill ran down my spine and I began to shiver. I hated to be cold; it made it nearly impossible for me to sleep. The chilling water began to slowly seep down through the mattress, moving from my feet to the rest of my body. Feeling defeated, I made a pile with my blankets and sat atop it, trying to distance myself from the water. I sat through the everlasting night, continually glancing at the time displayed on my watch, praying for morning to come, and occasionally nodding off before the cold rainwater beneath me awoke me from sweet sleep.
Each second slowly passed by, giving me time to allow my thoughts to wander. I thought of my family back home and pondered over the first half of my trip. On one of the most memorable days, we visited with a Uganda family, who welcomed us into their home for a typical day in the life of a Ugandan. The home I had been graciously welcomed into was a simple, mud house with three small rooms. The tin roof had magnified the heat from the scorching sun, as we tried to get comfortable on grass mats spread over the dirt floor. Yet despite this meager lifestyle, the Ugandans’ faces were full of smiles brought on by pure joy. The sounds of laughter filled the house as I along with my host family found humor in my miserable attempt to cut a head of cabbage, which would accompany our lunch.
After seeing the average living conditions in Uganda, I found just how much I had to be grateful for- if this was the worst of my problems, I could be content. In the middle of the dark Ugandan night, I sat quietly in my soggy tent, reflecting upon the high points and low moments of the journey, thankful this was only a temporary moment in my life.
Finally, just as the first rays of sunlight flirted with the horizon, hinting at the daylight to come, I crawled out from my tent. In the stillness of the early morning, I watched the sunrise in the most glorious pink hues over the tops of the mountains. At the sight of the scenic sunrise a smile fell across my face. The sun had risen; I had survived the night.
A week and a half ago, I had packed two small suitcases and boarded a plane on a transcontinental excursion. I had journeyed farther away from home than ever before and made my way to the African nation of Uganda. Halfway through the trip, our group ventured to a beautiful riverside campsite for four days of exploration in Mbale, Uganda. The campsite was perched along the mountainside next to a gorgeous, flowing waterfall, which was tinted a reddish color due to the runoff of water over the red soil brought on by rainy season. Every evening was accompanied by a downpour of rain. Standing alongside the river, looking up at the mighty waterfall, feeling the mist against my face, was one of the most awe-inspiring sights I had ever laid my eyes upon.
After a long day of traveling and hiking in the mountains, I eagerly anticipated the moment my head would meet my pillow. To reach my tent, I first had to climb up a rickety and slippery mountain path made with large rocks damp from the humidity, while the night threatened of yet another rainstorm. I could already hear the dull roar of thunder in the distance, promising to bring rain any moment. Making the climb to my tent took all the energy I had remaining and I quickly lay on the simple mattress, falling asleep almost instantly, before the two others in my tent even had the chance to settle into the tent.
Awaking to the cold sensation of water on my feet was disorienting. “Is anyone else getting wet?” I called out to the others. I heard a muffled groan and the sound of a body turning over. Apparently the others were not victims of the tent leak as they continued to sleep soundly. I pulled my knees up to my chin, bringing my feet out of the every growing puddle in the middle of the mattress, and tried to fall back asleep. A chill ran down my spine and I began to shiver. I hated to be cold; it made it nearly impossible for me to sleep. The chilling water began to slowly seep down through the mattress, moving from my feet to the rest of my body. Feeling defeated, I made a pile with my blankets and sat atop it, trying to distance myself from the water. I sat through the everlasting night, continually glancing at the time displayed on my watch, praying for morning to come, and occasionally nodding off before the cold rainwater beneath me awoke me from sweet sleep.
Each second slowly passed by, giving me time to allow my thoughts to wander. I thought of my family back home and pondered over the first half of my trip. On one of the most memorable days, we visited with a Uganda family, who welcomed us into their home for a typical day in the life of a Ugandan. The home I had been graciously welcomed into was a simple, mud house with three small rooms. The tin roof had magnified the heat from the scorching sun, as we tried to get comfortable on grass mats spread over the dirt floor. Yet despite this meager lifestyle, the Ugandans’ faces were full of smiles brought on by pure joy. The sounds of laughter filled the house as I along with my host family found humor in my miserable attempt to cut a head of cabbage, which would accompany our lunch.
After seeing the average living conditions in Uganda, I found just how much I had to be grateful for- if this was the worst of my problems, I could be content. In the middle of the dark Ugandan night, I sat quietly in my soggy tent, reflecting upon the high points and low moments of the journey, thankful this was only a temporary moment in my life.
Finally, just as the first rays of sunlight flirted with the horizon, hinting at the daylight to come, I crawled out from my tent. In the stillness of the early morning, I watched the sunrise in the most glorious pink hues over the tops of the mountains. At the sight of the scenic sunrise a smile fell across my face. The sun had risen; I had survived the night.