During the Easter holiday, I did something I will never do again. I jumped off a ledge and dropped several feet into a raging river. Before that jump of faith, or foolishness, a couple of us had been taken through step by step regarding how to make the jump to avoid getting hurt.
We were to jump in feet-first, our hands holding our life jackets. If we made the mistake of parting our legs during the jump, we were warned, our sehemu nyeti, (especially for the men), would be slapped hard by the water and there would be lots of gnashing of teeth later, and if we folded our legs, we would land on our bottoms, the result being the inability to sit properly for days. The instructor made us do several mock jumps, which I passed with flying colours. At this point, though, I must disclose that the practice jumps were being made on the spot, where we all stood in a circle, listening keenly to the instructor. It sounded so easy, I could not wait for him to finish so that I could jump.
