The NY Times reports: KATMANDU, Nepal (AP) — A veteran Sherpa guide (Apa Sherpa) scaled Mount Everest for a record 17th time Wednesday, beating his own previous record, mountaineering officials said.
Apa was leading a team calling themselves the Super Sherpas on a charity climb to raise education funds for children of the Nepalese mountain guides.
Apa Sherpa started climbing as a porter at the age of 12, now he is a Super Sherpa. In a classically Western focus, the first ascent atop Everest bagged Hillary the knighthood, while the sherpa Tenzing Norgay was relegated to an “also climbed” status. Now the sherpas are asserting themselves and showing who really rules the Himalayas.
During my travels to Nepal and Tibet, it was such a delight to photograph kids; even when they were simply waving at our passing bus. This is on my return trip through the border town of Kodari, Nepal. Eleven cute kids in these two households!
… feel free to wave back at them!
Our initial plan was to have a quick lunch in Kodari, perform exit visa procedures, and cross over the Friendship bridge into China-occupied Tibet. But instead, we found ourselves gobbling lunch to a backdrop of a frenzied stone-throwing mob and the staccato of automatic weapons. Read more details in previous post here.
We had uber-confident ‘armchair experts’ in our group, who provided continuous analyses. One opined that police would not fire on unarmed protesters, “they are firing in the air.” We learn’t later that the mob was engaging the military, not the local police. Another divined, “they are firing rubber bullets.” Yeah!
Yielding to my cousin’s protests, I hid my camera in my backpack and scrambled to the door for a close-up of military tactics. As the military advanced, they pulled down a couple of civilians standing in a truck and kicked and beat them ragged. The frenzied mob was hurling rocks. A few rocks came our way and shattered the glass front, littering the restaurant floor with glass shards. We all shrieked and scrambled for safety. I grabbed my backpack and dashed to the back room, where most of the others waited. A few more projectiles shattered whatever remained of the entire glass front.
As we had dashed in, so did our team of Sherpas. The military apparently thought that mob-members were seeking refuge in the restaurant and charged in after them. With heavy boots one kicked the swing door, breaking the last of the glass panels and thundered in. On seeing the puzzled looks of desi-tourists and quiet sherpas, he fired into the floor, looked around and stomped out! Whoa!
The owner promptly pulled the shutters. As the military pushed the mob back past our restaurant, we got a reprieve from the stones and bullets.
In the back room our party singing bhajans, taking our minds off the tenuous situation outside. The back room was a porch overlooking a canyon. Deep in the canyon below, the river Kosi rumbled and frothed over gigantic boulders.
Above, the seemingly peaceful Tibetan side teased us.
During this entire episode, the family owning the restaurant had not panicked, but instead kept us all calm (and away from windows). Their bucolic village was torn apart by mobs and military. Their restaurant, representing their entire life-savings, was littered with shattered glass and nervously pacing tourists. Coolly, mother, father, teenage daughter and a few helpers, started to pickup the glass and rock debris. We all laughed as the daughter showed us some of the rocks that had come through. The dry nervous laughter masked the fragility of our experiences.
Early in the evening, the shutters were rolled up to an eerie calm outside. AK-47 toting military controlled the streets and a forced peace had descended on the village.
Inside, the owners made chai and passed around biscuit packets. Our tour organizers along with local help made sleeping arrangements in the rooms above the restaurant. My cousins and I, got a small room in the adjoining guest house. Even stepping next door – across a threshold of a shared wall – felt dangerous. Next door too was a tiny restaurant/home with rental rooms. With nothing to do, we just sat around, chatted and caught up on life.
When traveling, I am accused of over-packing. In my backpack houlder bag, I carried an extra set of clothes, kit with toiletries and candy bars. With our luggage trapped somewhere behind the mob-line, I was likely the only guy with a toothbrush, and a set of pajamas. *hee hee* After decades of not needing my ‘spare set,’ it took a mob action in Kodari to validate my packing habits.
Dinner was in the restaurant/family room where all the owner’s family gathered as well. The only TV had continuous news of the standoff between the mob and the military. From the News we gathered that two agitators had died and many more injured. The situation was now apparently ‘under control.’ I just prayed for calm.
After a restless night, I was up at sunrise. I noticed the owner stepping out of his room, still rubbing his eyes and yawning. I asked him for some tea and he quickly got to making chiya (tea with ginger) and coffee for us all.
Out on the streets, all was quiet. We were encouraged, the military had withdrawn from the town. I scrambled up to the terrace to catch the sun glistening on the town. On the left are the buildings in Kodari and the immigration office is the last one. The Friendship Bridge connects to China-occupied Tibet on the right. The village on the hill in the background is the Tibetan town of Zhang-Mu. While we show our passports and go through the border here, it is at Zhang-Mu that our passports are inspected more carefully. Interestingly, China is not authorized by the UN to issue visas on our passports. Thus we apply for and receive separate ‘travel permits,’ which we surrender, and our passports don’t have any evidence of us entering China-occupied Tibet; only us exiting Kodari at the border. Ironically, it was in Kodari, part of the democratic Nepal that we had the most difficulty, while the sun shone golden on the authoritarian regime in Zhang-Mu. Whoever said life is fair!
After a quick breakfast we heard the border was now open and we could leave. … if we could get around the tire burning crowd!
Apparently, our tour organizers had made a deal with the local mafia, as well as the local immigration and military bosses. Our passports were taken ahead to prepare for a quick exit. When all negotiations were completed, we were asked to proceed quickly.
We marched single file. First through the quickly gathering mob, which quietly gave us passage. Then past more burning tires. Then the barren area beyond which the military in riot gear held their line. As we approached, we all held our breaths, the riot team parted and we were allowed to pass through. Phew.
I sighed relief as we reached the bridge. After a cursory examination of our passports, Chinese authorities quickly let us through. On the Tibetan side, everyone in our group had a wide smile on their faces. We had passed the first adventure. We mounted the waiting Toyota Landcruisers and the drivers took us up the mountains to Zhang-Mu for further passport checks and onwards to the Tibetan village of Nyalama.
During travels it’s near impossible to predict what will happen. The important lesson I learnt was to remain calm, smile, and … always pack an extra toothbrush and set of pajamas in your shoulder bag.
After departing Kodari, we quickly forgot about the incident – till our return journey. The locals mentioned that the rioting continued for a few days, as fifteen more bodies of locals surfaced downriver. *shudder*
The Kailash-Manasarovar Yatra continues: Onwards to Kodari
We spent a day in Kathmandu flying along the Everest Mountain Range, taking darshan at Pashupatinath, and the Baudhanath Stupa, (Monks and Kids at the Baudhnath) and visiting the local markets. We left early the following morning for the border town of Kodari, where we would process immigration requirements and cross over into China-occupied Tibet.
Once we left Kathmandu, we also left behind paved roads. Dirt roads lead us through the countryside, up mountains and picturesque views. After monsoon rains, the fields cut in mountain sides were lush with greenery, reminding me of Goa and Kumta. But the rains also bring landslides in the mountains, and we heard news of villages washed away. In many places we drove by recent landslides. The rocky rubble had merely been shifted, so traffic could go by. We were treated to innumerable streams cascading down mountain sides; and in many cases, the streams flowed right over roads, slowly eroding them. As our mini-buses dipped into streams and groaned out again, we were simultaneously gripped by adventurous excitement and terror – which would be the defining characteristic of this trip. The 135 km journey took us more than four hours.
Green fields zipping by.
The road hugs the river Kosi; in several places I noticed rudimentary suspension bridges which the locals use to cross the rapidly flowing river.
Indian trucks dominated the roads here and I was struck by the vivid graphics on their trim. At a rest area, I shot this artwork atop the drivers cab. The art depicts nicely the scenery (and the river Kosi) we enjoyed in the mountains.
Along the route, our accompanying bus got a flat tire and we stopped in a village. These kids were selling quartered cucumbers. I was not going to test my intestinal immunity and just settled for a pic. Noticed the effeminate lips on the kid on the left
A tea shop in the village
As we entered Kodari, the buses had stopped in front of tire-burning fires in the middle of the road. Blissfully ignorant of what was happening, we carried our shoulder bags and walked a few hundred meters to the road-side restaurant for a quick lunch. We walked around more burning tires spewing dense, acrid smoke and angry young men glaring at us. In some places the heat and smoke were very intense and we hurried along.
The mob stopped our bus and we had to stop over in Kodari
Our initial plan was to have a quick lunch and cross the border, which was only about 50 meters away. But all was not well in Kodari. Apparently the locals and the military police guarding the border had gotten into an altercation. The border was now closed and mobs had blocked the only thoroughfare with their burning tires and essentially brought this village to a standstill.
As we ate lunch we hoped the mob would disperse and we could proceed on. But that was not to be. Outside, we heard the raucous of the angry mob. And then,thakt, thakt,
We looked at each other, raised eyebrows at hearing shots being fired, but carried on with our meals.
One of the joys of traveling is taking spontaneous photographs of complete strangers. Our interaction is only for a few seconds, or at most a few minutes. But through their pics they leave a lasting impression. In the comfort of my home, those few moments get stretched, not unlike Einstein’s time. I recall every blink of an eye, every body shrug and every word that passed during that brief interaction. And it sticks in my mind, sprouts, grows and nourishes; and subtly transforms me too.
I particularly enjoy photographing kids hanging out on streets. They are not scared of strangers, invariably smile and are willing to pause for a photograph. And once they see their likeness on the camera LCD, they jump in glee and are thrilled to pose forever. Despite their posed smiles, their inner joy seeps through the screen. These kids usually have very little material things at home, certainly no gameboys to keep them from throwing tantrums. Instead, at a young age they are observing and learning from strangers. They learn to rely on their siblings and friends. To trust them, for so much depends on trust in this part of the world. And above all, they know how to have fun with nothing more than a place to hang out. Theirs is the purest of joys.
I saw these girls on the steps of the Baudhanath Stupa (In the opening pic you see them playing by the elephant on the left). As they saw me approaching with my camera, they cuddled together and smiled. I think these were all from an extended family. When I asked if they were brothers and sisters, the oldest girls brought everyone together and kept repeating – ‘family, family!’
(revised and updated Aug 2011)
When I noticed the Baudhanath Stupa on our itinerary, I was indifferent. But when I alighted from the bus there, I was awestruck at the size of this stupa and the vibrant atmosphere. The Stupa easily took a whole city block. It’s nearly 125 ft tall and the periphery was about a quarter of a mile; the largest in South-east Asia.
The large dome is topped by a square platform supporting 13 steps. From all four sides of this platform, the divine eyes of Buddha gaze out at the world. Such stylized eyes attesting to the benevolent grace of the divine, are everywhere in Kathmandu – on offices, homes, walls, shops and curios.