Chaos on the Jordan River
As we sit here on the bus, half of us are asleep. A quarter of us are conversing idly back and forth to one another. The final quarter of us are glued to the windows as we drive through this unfamiliar country. We pull over to the side of the road.
Our tour guide, Isaac, explains to us that we’re going to be joined by a group of Israeli soldiers now. None of us know quite what to expect. Some of us are a little concerned and intimidated by what this might mean. “They’re going to be pretty lame, from what I hear,” Isaac had warned us beforehand. The atmosphere seems to grow more and more intense as they line up outside of the bus.
The first soldier boards the vehicle. With a hulking figure and a clean-cut beard, he’s dressed from top to bottom in military attire. As he walks up the stairs and into the aisle, he stands beside Isaac for a moment. He’s an intimidating presence.
“Ermmm… this is Teddy. He’s been in the IDF for three years, he’s well-versed with weapons and he’s a championship boxer,” Isaac explains seriously. As a second Israeli soldier boards the bus, Teddy begins making his way up the aisle in search of a seat. She, too, is dressed from head to toe in military attire. She has brown hair, an astute face and a pointed nose. “This is Naomi. She’s in the air unit of the IDF, she’s an expert in explosives and she spent a year training lions.”
The introductions continue in this manner. With each new Israeli soldier that boards, Isaac introduces them. With each introduction, he capitalizes on their most intimidating features. These were seasoned boxers, wrestlers, and weapons experts. With hardened expressions, the eight Israeli soldiers make their way onto the bus and sit beside us in intense silence. With the Israelis now seated, Isaac asks that we do a brief ice breaker activity. Naomi has decided to sit next to me. For the activity, he asks that we each explore an embarrassing moment that’s happened to us in our lives.
Naomi comes equipped with a good enough story that I begin to suspect she’s something more than a hardened killing machine. I struggle to come up with anything I’m willing to share with a stranger; I merely bring up that I fell down some stairs in Tzvat. Her English isn’t great, but I can tell she hoped for a little more. After a tense bus ride and a nice meal at a restaurant, we’re headed toward the Jordan River.
As we begin to near the river, Isaac get’s our attention over the bus’s loudspeaker. “Ermmm darlings… technically you’re not allowed to swim in the Jordan river, but be warned, you are all going to end up in the water.” At this, we all look around at each other a little nervously. Even the Israeli soldiers seem surprised by what he’s said. “Now I want you to divide and conquer your Israelis. We don’t want them all together in one raft, so 1–2 Israelis per group. Remember, divide and conquer!”
With life jackets on now, we assemble into groups and wait in line. After about fifteen minutes, our rafts thrust off into the impressively relaxed waters of the Jordan River. The water is brown, murky and lazy. It flows calmly through the trees at a crawling pace. We begin wondering what it was that Isaac had even warned us about.
As we drift down the river we talk to each other. It’s a beautiful day and the sun is bearing down on us, but the water splashing gently in from the river surrounding us is refreshing enough that we hardly take notice. Ken, one of the Israeli soldiers, is in control of one of the oars. As we near the trees and shrubbery that line the river, he goes to chivalrous lengths to keep us safe from mild scratches.
We continue drifting down the river and conversing amongst ourselves as we begin to hear echoes of panic ahead. As we drift a little closer, we see a couple people from our group splashing in the water. The calm water is at odds with the struggle we now see taking place. Limbs seem to flail desperately in and out of the water as we look from side to side at one another. We look ahead and try to piece together what danger lies in these serene waters.
After a moment, we see what’s happened: Isaac has gone rogue. I begin now to understand his warnings. It’s not furious rapids or hazards within the waters that would have sent us flying off of the raft — but Isaac himself. After he’s launched a couple of the Americans from their raft, he continues drifting through the water like a crocodile stalking prey. As he emerges quietly behind a new raft, he deftly pulls another American down into the murky depths of the Jordan river.
But as he returns again to the surface to claim a new victim, he meets resistance. He attempts to pull Teddy in, but what commences instead is a sight to behold. The two hulking figures duel it out in what could best be described as a no-holds-barred match that appears to be an odd mixture of aquatic sumo-wrestling and WWE. As some surrounding rafts attempt to get a view of the evolving spectacle, the chaos Isaac has inspired seems to have a ripple effect now.
We laugh hysterically as the pandemonium grows harder and harder to avoid. Both Ken and Naomi laugh animatedly alongside us. In this moment, they don’t seem to me like hardened Israeli soldiers. But suddenly, I go from laughing and cheering at the self-perpetuating cycle of chaos to being abruptly pulled into its mucky depths. I emerge from the water a little stunned and see the American culprit slinking guiltily back toward his raft with a smirk stretched wide across his face. Similar scenes are playing out all around us.
The rest of the time spent rafting down the calm waters of the Jordan River is spent in feverish vigilance. People glance from side to side cautiously for predators floating alongside them in the water. Some of us give up entirely and just allow the river to win. After my third time being pulled in, I decide I’m probably safer there.
After an hour or two floating down these lazy waters, we each emerge impressively soaked. Staff members of the rafting facility look a little perplexed by the water-logged life jackets that we return to them. As we begin making our way back toward the buses, I notice Teddy walk up alongside me. He tries to squeeze some of the excess moisture from his shirt as I look over toward him.
“Is it true you’re a championship boxer?”
“Not at all,” he says with a chuckle. “Isaac made all that stuff up!”
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