Africa's not for Sissies

Chapter 17: The Killer Rip

"Will. Wake up!"

I opened my eyes to see those beautiful blue eyes gazing at me. "Chantelle?"

"Get up! We're going surfing, remember?"

I sat up. "Oh yeah." A cannonball of dread settled into my stomach. "Just give me a few minutes to get ready." I shuffled off to the bathroom to brush my teeth, my mind racing the whole time trying to think of a way to get out of this, but I couldn't come up with anything.

There were four of us in total going surfing that day. In addition to Chantelle and I, there was Zeph, our instructor; and Dave, an experienced surfer from Australia. Zeph didn't tell us where he was from. He spoke with an accent, when he spoke, which was seldom, and had long blonde dreadlocks. Zeph always seemed to have something deep and bothersome on his mind. In contrast, Dave was easygoing and friendly and pretty much joked constantly. His hair was naturally blonde and cropped short, whereas Zeph's hair looked bleached. They both had lean, muscular surfers' bodies. I didn't want to take my shirt off and stand next to either of them, and especially not in front of Chantelle.

Although there was a beach next to the hostel, it did not offer the best surf, so we walked across a couple of beaches and through a brush-covered path before arriving at our chosen beach.

"So I hear there's sharks in these waters," I said to no one in particular.

"Yeah mate, a surfer was attacked here last year," Dave said.

"You don't say?" I hoped this registered with Chantelle.

"But I don't like to think about that, I'm out to have a good time. If I think about sharks I won't have a good day. So I don't think about them."

Zeph led us to a rocky outcropping. The rocks were sharp and once again I had to hobble, cursing my baby-soft soles. The rocks formed a point, which caused the waves to break in what I learned is a right-hand break. Zeph gazed out to sea for a while before giving us his surfing lesson.

"Head over zere." He pointed to a crescent shaped patch of sand about 200 meters away. "Zere's a beach break. Practice zere." He walked into the water, lay belly down on his board and paddled away. I watched him disappear into the waves.

I turned to Chantelle. "I guess that's the 'free' lesson."

She shrugged. "You get what you pay for."

Dave was gazing out to sea in the same way Zeph had done a few moments before. I had no idea what he was looking at. He turned to us. He looked concerned. "So you've never surfed before?"

"Nope, first time," I said.

Chantelle nodded.

He turned and looked out to sea again. "Stay away from the point he'a," he said, pointing at the rocky outcrop, "and don't go too fa' that way eitha'." He pointed at the cliffs in the distance. "You don't wanna get washed into them cliffs."

I nodded. "Yeah, we definitely don't want to get washed into any cliffs."

"Just stay in the beach break and you'll be 'right, mate."

"Why shouldn't we go in here?" Chantelle asked.

"The rocks he'a are sharp," he replied. "If you fall – and you will – you're gonna get cut. Better to learn on the beach over there." He turned and stared out to sea again.

"What are you looking at?" I asked.

"There's a rip."

"A rip?" I knew about rip tides – currents that wash you out to sea. A lot of people die in rip tides.