The mystical, secret island paradise in the middle of Africa’s largest lake

Bukasa, Uganda (CNN) — On a tropical island more than 600 miles from the sea, a mystical waterfall springs out of a rock and cascades down a cliff, eventually flowing into Lake Victoria and then the Nile. It’s a natural and, for many Ugandans, a spiritual wonder.

But the people who watch over Nanziri Waterfall aren’t sure if they want you to know about it.

Venice now charges a day-tripping fee. Amsterdam has banned hotel construction. But overtourism is the farthest thought from the minds of people on Bukasa Island. At the moment, there are precious few facilities to accommodate tourists — with no running water, no electricity, and nowhere to stay.

It’s not impossible to visit though — and a trip to the island is an adventurous journey into a magical landscape that few get to see.

Bukasa is one of the 84 Ssese Islands that stretch across 9,000 square kilometers in Lake Victoria. This archipelago is among the few places in the world where tropical islands sit in a landlocked country.

There are easier islands to visit. Most tourists — whose numbers are small in the busiest of times — go to Bugala, home to the islands’ main town, Kalangala. There tourists can find conveniences like guest houses and eateries.

Islands like Banda and Bulago have private retreats. Ngamba has nowhere to stay but attracts day visitors to the Jane Goodall Foundation’s chimpanzee sanctuary.

Those all appeal to me too, but I’ve only got one night. The problem is that everything about Lake Victoria is so big. Among freshwater lakes, only Lake Superior is larger. Imagine a body of water the size of Ireland. Traveling among the islands is like taking to the open sea. The lake can go from placid to rough, from sunshine to mist, all during one ride.

Spiritual guide

Ferries ply two main routes to the Ssese, leaving the mainland around midday, then overnighting at the islands, and returning the next morning. One journey ends at Bukasa, and the other goes to Kalangala. For my time frame, the choice was one or the other. I’ve seen a lot of tropical beaches. But I’ve never been to a magic waterfall.

The thing is, no one seems to know how to get there.

“You can’t go there alone. You’ll never find it,” warns Jonathan Nsubuga, an architect who visited the islands as part of his research on restoring the Kasubi Tombs in Kampala. He calls a spirit medium who he’d consulted with on the tombs, to see if she can help.

Mukaka Sharifa claims to channel the spirit of Kintu, the 13th-century ruler who founded Buganda, the largest kingdom within what is modern Uganda. That gives her a special connection to the islands. Kintu is believed to have come from Ssese.

Sharifa puts me in touch with her brother Micky who can go with me to show the way.

Which is how I ended up on an orange water bus to Bukasa — along with a goat, some chickens, and giant bags filled with the wants and needs of fishing villages — with less than 24 hours to find the waterfall.

When Micky and I arrive at Bukasa, we take one of the “boda” motorcycle taxis waiting to get people around, both squeezing behind the driver, with our camping kit and our backpacks.

I assume that we are going directly to the mystical waterfall at Nanziri, with plenty of time before sunset to experience the natural spectacle. But first we need to meet the guardian of the shrine who will escort us there.

A palatial shrine

We get lost more than once trying to find the place. When we finally get to the end of a tiny dirt track, a man in a white caftan waits for us. He says we must bathe before we can go to the shrine. I’m not quite sure what this means, but he’s got a bucket of water and ficus branches, which he dunks into the water and then splashes it all over Micky and then me.

The guardian calls the shrine a palace, as it’s the home of the king’s spirit. It’s rectangular and designed almost like an open stable. The sky is darkening, but we’re not done greeting. The guardian gives us each a parcel, a carefully wrapped dried banana leaf. Eight roasted coffee beans sit inside. These are to be eaten slowly, one by one — woody little bites, washed down with water from a shared jug. This signals friendship, a welcome into the space.

By then, we agree that it’s too late to make it to Nanziri, so we agree to leave early in the morning and see the falls at dawn.

Although we’ve brought a tent, the guardian says we should sleep in the shrine, on the woven mats, under the blankets Micky had packed.

People visit the shrine throughout the night — Ugandan pilgrims who have come to seek health or better fortune from the ancestral spirits deeply rooted here. Some have already bathed in the waterfall’s pool, others have just arrived, on foot, in the total darkness.

Barefoot pilgrimage

When I wake in the morning, the shrine’s floor is full of people sleeping shoulder to shoulder. Outside, more are sleeping on the grass, fully dressed, without blankets. Somehow, at least 40 people have come during the night.

Micky and I leave well before dawn. This time two bodas take us, with the guardian navigating the dirt trails, lit only by the motorcycles’ headlights. When he tells us to stop, he says we have to remove our shoes and walk the rest of the way barefoot. He leads the way with his walking stick, seemingly floating down the rocky trail. I wince at each rock jabbing into my soles, worrying about snakes and spiders and other things I can’t see.

The sun doesn’t rise exactly, not like in the pictures of the open savannah. The sky simply gets lighter, and the stars fade out. The trees and the rocks start to come into relief.

And there’s the waterfall. The guardian and Micky stand at the end of the pool, water shooting out of a rock, with no river above, like someone had turned on a giant faucet and left it running.

The water is perfectly clear, but I’m not brave enough to get all the way in. I just reach my hand into this cool water that bubbles up from the ground. Below the pool, the water cascades down and then disappears into the trees, flowing eventually into Lake Victoria, which stretches impossibly far into the distance.

Presumably later in the day the dozens of pilgrims will make their way here — not that there’s room for many. The guardian says he wishes more people would come. The shrine needs money for maintenance, and he and his family rely on alms for their livelihoods.

For now, it’s just for pilgrims, finding their way to this unmarked place in the middle of nowhere, hoping to leave with more strength than they arrived with.

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