The Call of Everest Read online

  VOICES

  THE CHANGING KHUMBU

  The snow falls white now, but soon that brightness will fade.” These words echoed in my mind after my audience with the Rinpoche, head lama of the Tengboche monastery. The old man’s eyes looked weary with time and his efforts of selflessness. He sits in his simple quarters, studying the scrolls containing the written history of his people, the Sherpa. After almost 70 years as the community and religious leader of Khumbu, he says he is becoming weak of body and mind.

  “All of the lamas believe in true Sherpa culture and with them, the ways of our ancestors are preserved. If the lamas ever lose the belief and trust of the Sherpa people, though, our culture will be lost.” —Rinpoche

  The Tengboche monastery perches on a remote and wind-blown hill, high in the Himalaya, shadowed by the vast immensity of Ama Dablam. To most Westerners, this place and the monks residing within embody the ancient and now revered Buddhist culture of the high Himalaya. Hand-hewn stone walls, elaborately painted, tell colorful stories of the daily rituals of lamas, praying and playing ancient instruments that resonate through the mountain valley.

  “Tourists come here for our culture as it once was, so that they may feel that they have ventured into the unknown, but the truth is that the face of our younger generations holds only the surface of what our culture once was.” —Rinpoche

  One cannot fault the young people of the Khumbu region for moving away from the old ways of life. Taking the path of modern education and technological advances over a simple life of physical labor has become a trend no matter where you look. But what has been lost in this process, in the modernization of one of the most remote places in the world? It is a question I ask in my wanderings through the Khumbu region, this once mysterious and isolated realm of mountain gods.

  DRAWN TO KHUMBU

  In 1990, when I was two, my father, Alex Lowe, traveled to Khumbu for the third time and became the 40th American to summit Mount Everest. Ascending Everest was still a far-fetched and seldom accomplished feat at that time. I learned of the titanic mysticism of these settings via postcards and the stories he told me as I lay in the crook of his arm. From early on I felt the draw of the Himalaya—so much so that in a childish temper tantrum, I declared to my mother, “I am running away to Kathmandu to find Dad.”

  My father died in 1999, consumed by an avalanche in the Tibetan Himalaya. The region gained even more grave and mystic proportions for me. In 2001 I was finally able to see Nepal through my own eyes when I accompanied my mom and my new dad, Conrad Anker, to the Sherpa climbing school that they had launched in Phortse, Khumbu, Nepal. And now again, in the spring of 2012, I return to work on my research and photography project, looking at this remarkable culture and geography through the eyes of its long-standing inhabitants, people I now consider friends and family.

  To many people, Nepal and the Himalaya are still remote and mysterious places, to be visited only by the most bold of travelers. In the last 50 years, though, trekking through the Khumbu and Annapurna regions of the Himalaya has become a huge tourist industry, one of the largest sources of income for the economy of Nepal. The first power plant was established in the region in 1995, and with it came running water, telephones, the Internet. From the top of Mount Everest, the highest peak on Earth and one of the harshest environments in the world, you are now able to make a cell phone call.

  In recent years, a dental clinic and several medical clinics have opened, run by Sherpa practitioners who left for an education and returned to work among their people. Modern clothing and comfortable homes provide a better standard of living, while money and easy access via air and road to the lowlands has diversified the once elementary diet of potatoes, rice, and the few vegetables that grow in such a harsh climate. Life has become far easier and more comfortable for the Sherpa people of Khumbu, and they are grateful for this.

  FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE

  If you ask people living in Namche and nearby to name any negative effects of Western culture, seldom do you get an answer. Here, as everywhere, people seem to prefer a lavish, easier life with Western-style amenities. “The snow falls white now, but soon that brightness will fade,” says the lama.

  Several days later I was able to speak with Lama Geshi at the monastery in Pangboche, just a day’s hike up the valley from Tengboche. We spoke of what the Rinpoche had told me, and Lama Geshi closed his eyes, bowed his head in understanding, and began to speak.

  “Hundreds of years ago, the religious kings of Tibet enforced the practice of self-giving and selflessness, and this is where the happy disposition of the Sherpa people comes from. People lived simple lives here in the mountains without the knowledge of the swirling storm around us. Westerners came, bringing with them money and the idea of power. Now the people no longer focus on self-giving and the idea of a simple life.…

  “I am 80 years old now, and I have experienced the impermanence of human life. All the most powerful and rich people in the world will die, just like everyone else, so live each day to better others. Through this, you will better yourself and find true fulfillment. All the people in the world should remember that they will be dead one day, tomorrow, next week, or in 50 years. Live for the day and live for a settled mind. Don’t waste days planning ahead when the days spent planning could be wasted days of doing.” —Lama Geshi

  The clarity of what Lama Geshi said rang lucid in my mind. With the access to endless monetary gain, people might better their own existence, but to what end? Western culture and influence has most certainly had a positive effect on the quality of life for individuals, but the collateral loss may not be worth the cost.

  “Stopping a flood is impossible, and these days it rains heavy from the east and west.” —Lama Geshi

  —MAX LOWE A National Geographic Young Explorer Grantee and photographer, Max Lowe is documenting social change in Nepal’s Khumbu region.

  THE MOUNTAIN GODDESS

  One of these deities resides on Mount Everest: Miyolangsangma, the Goddess of Inexhaustible Giving. The mountain is her palace and playground, and Sherpas view themselves and the climbers as guests at Base Camp, arriving without invitation. Only when the Sherpas have made offerings to Miyolangsangma and other deities at the lhap-so, a makeshift shrine that is normally built soon after arrival at Base Camp, do they feel comfortable entering the treacherous Khumbu Icefall. Miyolangsangma is regarded as one of the five “Long Life Sisters” who reside on nearby peaks of the region, protecting the area from harm while providing spiritual nourishment to the residents who dwell on her flanks.

  In paintings, Miyolangsangma is depicted riding on a tigress that levitates her through a celestial realm. She exudes an air of stern benevolence, as if requiring that her beauty and generosity be reciprocated with respect and offerings. A cornucopia of fruit in her right hand represents good fortune, wealth, and abundance, and her left hand is positioned in a gesture of giving. It is her power, one monk said, that has delivered to the Sherpas great bounty—in the form of climbing expeditions and foreign travelers, to begin with.

  Like many of the Sherpas’ deities, she simultaneously occupies a position of endearment, fear, and devotion. In 1953, Tenzing Norgay credited the goddess with granting him safe passage on the slopes of Everest, and for escorting him and Edmund Hillary to the summit.

  VOICES

  THE PUSH AND PULL OF PROGRESS

  Many Sherpa youth regard the older generation as backward because they are skeptical of new technology, underestimate the value of education, and reject any new understanding of the position of women. Young women are critical of the fact that they are brought up more conservatively than the boys and tied to the home, while the boys are allowed more free time and are given the chance to go abroad. In the Sherpa culture, it is the Sherpanis [female Sherpas] who are the preserving force and who guarantee continuity and stability while the men are away. The girls’ upbringing stems from the perception of the women’s role as caretakers and perpetrators of their
culture …

  Language and religion are undisputed core values for the Sherpas. Myths and religious rituals structure the pattern of their year—a feature that not even the most modern young people would like to change. Buddhism and its values are unquestioningly upheld.

  This cannot be said for the Sherpa language, however. Many Sherpas speak better Nepali than Sherpa.… The educated young people are aware of the danger that Sherpa culture could disappear altogether if core values such as language are not upheld, and they demand protective measures to save such traditional features. At the same time they are an integral part of a process of change.

  —KURT LUGER Kurt Luger is chairman of Eco Himal, an international NGO dedicated to sustainable development in the Himalaya.

  MODERN LIFE

  The 1950s and early ’60s marked a socioeconomic watershed for the Khumbu Sherpas. Traditional trade with Tibet, over the Nangpa La, was curtailed by the new Chinese regime, and Khumbu’s villages were languishing in a less than vibrant barter economy. Sherpa women, mostly, cultivated potatoes and weaved blankets, then carried them down valley to trade for rice and corn.

  “My sister and brothers lost hair on the tops of their heads from the constant chafing of their tumplines,” says Ang Rita, an educated Khumjung villager. “No one wore shoes, even in winter, though the better-off families sometimes tanned and shaped crude boots from buffalo hides.”

  In 1959, Khumbu had virtually no schools, drinking water systems, year-round bridges, or improved medical care. Mainly from experience as traders—which requires some math skills and the ability to draft business agreements—elder Sherpas had begun to recognize the value of education.

  When Sir Edmund Hillary visited the region that year, six years after his summit triumph, he was approached by a quorum of villagers who presented him with a scroll-like petition. “Our children have eyes, but they are blind,” an elder declared in one of several speeches delivered by the gathered Sherpas. They requested that he build a school. Hillary established an organization called the Himalayan Trust, and in 1961 the Khumjung school was constructed. Its first headmaster, from Darjiling, went door to door, persuading parents to send their children to the new school. The 46 students in the first class spanned a range of ages; most had no foundation of schooling at all.

  “After two years of school,” Ang Rita recalls, “my parents were surprised that I wanted to continue studying. ‘Haven’t you learned everything there is to learn yet?’ they said. I was determined to keep going, so in the early mornings and late evenings I did all my chores—mostly climbing trees to chop firewood and carry it back to the village. Then I studied.”

  STUDENTS LINE UP at Mount Kailash, a boarding school in Kathmandu, Nepal. These students’ parents pay for their education, a luxury in a country where rural students can walk for miles over rugged mountain trails to reach a schoolhouse. Nepal’s literacy rate is only 60 percent for citizens older than the age of 15.

  Over the following decade, Hillary’s organization supported the construction of 22 more schools. As for Ang Rita, he went on to earn the highest score in Nepal in the School Leaving Certificate examination; he is now the director of the Himalayan Trust.

  HEALTH CHALLENGES

  Khumbu needed a hospital, too. Cretinism, caused by iodine deficiency, was almost epidemic, and some villagers had goiters the size of small footballs hanging from their necks. Alcoholism was common as well. Ulcers, complications from childbirth, TB—all were present, though not readily apparent to casual visitors. Then, in 1963, smallpox found its way into Khumbu from India. If not for the quick response of the Himalayan Trust—and the doctors of the 1963 American Mount Everest Expedition—the Sherpa community would have been harder hit. Porters carrying loads to Everest were found to be vectors of the disease, as they were more mobile and contagious than most villagers. In the spring of that year, vaccine was flown in and the trust was able to immunize almost everyone in the region, including the people in Solu, to the south.

  SHERPA PORTERS WORKING during the 2012 climbing season pose at Base Camp with various loads. By assisting in early climbs, Sherpas gained a reputation for their deep understanding of the mountain and their physical abilities to operate in an oxygen-starved environment.

  In 1966, a hospital was opened in the village of Kunde. An iodization campaign was promptly launched, and virtually all new cases of goiter and cretinism were eliminated. Still, illnesses continued to be blamed on the influence of ghosts and malevolent spirits, and even today many Sherpas consult shamans before going to the hospital—a place where wounds can be treated, but where people have also been known to die.

  For four decades the hospital was staffed by husband-and-wife medical teams from New Zealand and Canada. It is now operated by Western-trained Sherpa doctors and staff. The Himalayan Trust, American Himalayan Foundation, and other organizations provide ongoing support.

  FURTHER EDUCATION

  Hillary wanted to see Sherpas trained in all fields. In the 1970s, the government of New Zealand sent six Sherpas to New Zealand for graduate training in parks and natural resource management. All of them returned, and in succession three of the six were appointed as chief wardens of Sagarmatha National Park—which was gazetted in 1977 and encompasses all of Khumbu. Their legacy of enlightened park management carries through to the present day.

  The generosity of foreign travelers, Hillary had realized, was leading to a culture of dependency. “lf people want to assist the Sherpas and show their affection for them,” he counseled, “I’ve always recommended that they contribute to the community as a whole, rather than to individuals.” He found that the most sustainable projects were those in which the Sherpas invested their own time and labor, effectively making the enterprise their own.

  Fortunately, schools and education arrived in Khumbu just as the Sherpas began to need tools for harnessing the socioeconomic transformation that was about to sweep over them.

  The modern era for Khumbu began, effectively, outside of Nepal in the 1920s and ’30s. Tenzing Norgay and his nephew Nawang Gombu were members of the first and second waves of Sherpas to seek their fortunes in Darjiling, India. Until 1950, when Nepal opened to outsiders for the first time, all Everest expeditions passed through India and Sikkim, then into Tibet, to approach the mountain from the north side.

  In 1953, Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay became the first climbers known to reach Everest’s summit. Soon after, Hillary founded the Himalayan Trust to build schools and hospitals. In 1956, schoolchildren learned their letters using crude wooden pencils and red sand. Today, the foundation’s Western influences—from paper and pens to dress—can be seen.

  The Sherpas who immigrated to Darjiling effectively left their barely subsistent, pastoralist Khumbu relatives behind. They were on a fast track to a mercantile and monetized realm that the foreign climbers—the sahibs—commanded. For decades in the middle of the last century—1920 to 1980—the upwardly mobile Darjiling Sherpas moved comfortably between the old and new worlds. Their Khumbu relatives treated them politely but chafed at what appeared to be favoritism toward the Darjiling Sherpas. (Since then the Khumbu Sherpas have more than caught up, socioeconomically, though a mild rift continues to this day.)

  Changes in Sherpa culture accelerated in the early 1960s. During the 1963 American Mount Everest Expedition in particular, Sherpas and Americans alike experienced a mutual loss of innocence. The Americans were nonplussed by the generosity and good humor of the Sherpas, and by how their lifestyle flowed in harmony with their environment. The Sherpas were equally amazed by the exotic Westerners with their profligate spending habits and command of technology. East meets West in the shadow of Everest.

  In a milestone that went unnoticed at the time, Jimmy Roberts and a Sherpa named Nima Tenzing inherited the lightweight expedition gear from the 1963 expedition. The next year, Roberts registered a company called Mountain Travel—inventing a whole new industry for Nepal and the Sherpas called “trekking.” The
concept wasn’t well understood at first, but within a decade more than 10,000 people had come to “trek” in the Himalaya. Many more have followed, and Sherpas have adapted to a new livelihood based on guiding, feeding, and lodging them. The Sherpas have gone on to open hundreds of such trekking companies, and many more hundreds of lodges. Now at least 25,000 foreigners trek through Khumbu each year, and the approach route to Everest offers reliable satellite TV, cell phone coverage, and eight-page restaurant menus.

  ROMANTICIZING THE SHERPAS

  Academic studies of the Sherpas abound. When ’63 American Everester Jim Lester returned to Nepal in 1998, his guide told him, “When you were here 35 years ago, every climber had his own Sherpa. Now every Sherpa has his own anthropologist.” Some have studied the relationship between Sherpas and Westerners, which is charged with fascination, envy, and romantic notions. Visitors to Khumbu often describe their trek or climb as life-changing, and their local hosts form a key element of that experience. Sherpas have gamely followed the natural progression from noble savage to renaissance men and women, traversing a staggering cultural arc in less than two generations.

  In the broader ethnic and social hierarchy of Nepal, Sherpas were regarded (until recently) as second-class citizens. Contact with Westerners and income from trekking presented them with refreshing opportunities to move upward and outward, and many have effectively leapfrogged over the socioeconomic structure that defines the rest of Nepal. Remarkably, this tiny ethnic minority has become famous amid a score of much larger ethnic groups.