Friday, May 15, 2015

Remember the Sherpas

I recently met someone who had just returned from a trip to the Himalayas where she made it up to Everest base camp. I heard her tell the story of her journey and the Sherpa who accompanied her up the mountain. She spoke of how he was kind and knowledgeable and helpful, and invited her into his little home to meet his family and share their food. 

I listened with great interest as she recalled the bond that formed between them and how she was panic-stricken when, two weeks after she returned, the earthquake struck Nepal and she lost contact with him. Thankfully, she eventually heard news and while he was safe, their house had been destroyed and many he knew had lost their lives. 

It was a thrilling story in so many ways, containing on the one hand triumph and adventure, and on the other, adversity and destruction. And, like all good stories- it stuck with me. For days after, I thought about the fragility of life but also about the Sherpa in her story. I tried to imagine what he looked like, tried to picture his home and his family. 

I have not met a Sherpa in person; the closest I have come is probably the ever-smiling Bahadur who works at my aunt's home in Delhi. Perhaps adversity is part of their lives, and they deal with it in their own way. Perhaps, despite everything, they even find a way to be happy. But I couldn't help but feel for them- these kind, knowledgeable men who live in tough, unforgiving conditions, making a living out of leading others to the top of mountains. 

I thought back to when I first read about (Sir) Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing Norgay, the first men to conquer Everest. It occurred to me that in almost every reference to these two men, Hillary's name was mentioned first. The subtle implication seemed to be that Hillary was the main man, and Norgay was just the sidekick. 

The reality, however, was that Norgay had made more summit attempts than any other person alive before actually conquering the peak with Hillary. While there's no doubt Hillary deserves every recognition for his efforts (he certainly wasn't carried to the top by Norgay), it is safe to say that without Norgay's experience and expertise, they would most likely have failed like many before them. 

When they finally reached the highest point on earth, the story goes that the two men made a pact that they would not reveal who actually scaled the peak first. It was an acknowledgement of the fact that each needed the other, and it was a team effort in the truest sense. 

And yet, so often Sherpas are a small footnote in the still-unfolding story of the great Himalayas. For them, it is just a job and the people with the money, expensive equipment and the Twitter and Instagram accounts take the glory. [There's something poignant about imagining a Sherpa guide a climber to the top, take his or photo, and then guide them back down again.] 

There are plenty of stories where Sherpas have lost their lives trying to help those in their care, losing their footing while seeking out a trail or even giving up their oxygen when climbers have run out of theirs. Day in and day out they get on with their jobs of trying to tame these treacherous peaks, and then return to fragile houses that fall apart in the next tremor, flood or avalanche. 

I'm not sure I will ever scale any of the Himalayan peaks or even get as far as base camp, but I suppose I have, in my own way, encountered Sherpas in my own life- people (both men and women) who have selflessly guided and helped me along the way and then disappeared into the background when the summit was in sight. 

In the end, these are the people I ended up thinking of today; I am sure you have had them as well. So whatever peaks you end up scaling in your own lives, whether literally or figuratively, I hope you too will remember the Sherpas. Those who helped you get there. People who went before, or who came along for the ride just for the satisfaction of seeing you reach the top. 

Remember them, because without them there's often no story worth telling.

1 comment:

Susan said...


So true and insightful! We all have our own Sherpa guides, who are now lost in the mists of time and erased in the fog of forgetfulness.