The Trek to a Sherpa Village

AS TOLD TO “AWAKE!” CORRESPONDENT IN INDIA

MY NAME is Nawang Phintso, and I am a Sherpa guide. Have you heard of the Sherpas? You must have. Particularly if you are one with a brave heart and willing to dare the cold and foreboding Nepal Himalayas. My people, the Sherpas, are very intimate friends of the Himalayas. For thousands of years this mountain range has offered us a home here in its snowbound lap. The celebrated Mount Everest is our everyday sentinel. With his feet planted right before us and standing 29,028 feet high, he is indeed the supreme monarch of this whole mountain range.

If we Sherpas seem proud of our mountain home, we are even more so of our rosy-cheeked daughters and our strong and rustic sons. Our houses are large and accommodating, and so are our hearts. The Sherpa smile is one you’ll never forget​—so sunny and warm that you forget the stinging Himalayan cold. But, please, come trekking with me to my village of Junbesi and personally taste of our genuine Sherpa hospitality.

This is a nice time of year to trek here in Nepal, from October to December. January and February are also permissible months, provided you are willing to endure the extreme cold and to disregard the heavy snowfall.

But before leaving, we must apply for a trekking permit, issued by the Central Immigration Office. As for porters, I have already arranged for two, a couple of strong, hardy lads. And here is Sonam from my village, a much-sought-after Sherpa cook to tickle our palates when we stop to eat.

Everything ready? Then, we are off from Kathmandu by Land Rover, headed for Lamsangu, seventy-two kilometers (about 45 miles) away. The air this morning is apple fresh​—clean, clear and crisp—​just off those distant snowy peaks.

You’re on the Trek

At Lamsangu we take to walking and begin our ascent. The afternoon breeze is cool. You need it to help you to make this climb. The path is dry, dusty and narrow. You look up and see it winding in serpentine-style. On either side of you the millet and wheat fields fall away to meet the stream below. You crane your neck hopefully for a glimpse of some white peaks. But I say: “You have need of endurance. You have walked only three hours. Perhaps tomorrow evening the proud Himalayas will grant you an audience.”

But for this evening, although it is only 5 p.m., it is time to set up camp. Before the growing shadows of darkness overtake us we must pitch our tents and have something to eat.

We have come to a height of 6,000 feet, to a place called Thulo Pakha, and the cold is making itself felt. Soon Sonam has a Sherpa treat for our stomachs​—a hot, thick stew of fried wheat powder, vegetables and chilies that effectively warms our ears, and pieces of chicken to quench our fiery hunger. And now it is time to retire. I know it is only 7 p.m., but you need much rest if you want to make it to my home, the land of the Sherpas.

The next morning we have a good breakfast of coffee, eggs and toast, and then we are up and climbing again. After three hours we make it to a height of 8,200 feet, where we stop for lunch. The place is Muldi. And, look! Your patience has been partly rewarded. Do you see those white mountains in the distance? That one there is Annapurna, 7,937 meters high (26,040 feet). This is only the beginning, however. The farther we trek, the more generous becomes the view of these majestic Himalayas.

Experiences That You Will Never Forget

Four days of eventful trekking are now over. Four days with some of the most fascinating experiences on which to look back! Experiences that until now may have existed only in your dreams and in storybooks. While they are fresh in our memory, let’s review some of them.

The first morning started off with a spine-chilling experience! That was when we crossed the rocking suspension bridge, creaking dangerously over the rolling waters of a Himalayan stream. Later, we struggled uphill to meet the imposing mountain pass of Manga Deorali (7,800 feet), and that certainly made us feel like heroic adventurers. Unforgettable, too, was that romantic tea break on the grassy shelves of Chitre (7,500 feet), followed by the leisurely walk through the land of alpine scrub and twisted junipers, topped by a hearty lunch at beautiful Kirantechhap! After an unusual night at Namdu, we spent the next day once again going uphill to cross another mountain pass at 8,200 feet. In the evening we made it to Sikri Khola, where we camped for the night by those sparkling waters. There, in peaceful slumber, our dreams blended with the gentle ripple of the stream below.

Two more nights skipped by. The most memorable of these, you recall, was spent at the dream valley of Chhayangma, where we were welcomed by the solitary but ornate Buddhist Chorten. Chorten is the Sherpa name for imposing monuments of stone, usually many feet in height. These are built in layers. The topmost layer has a large squat dome sitting on it. Above this dome is a little headpiece, often topped by a jaunty cone. Sometimes the headpiece has four flat faces, each bearing a pair of painted, narrow Mongoloid eyes. They look so penetrating and real. Chortens are believed to hold the ashes of venerated ancestors. But the most attractive aspect of these Chortens is that they are built at the choicest places on the hillsides. By that I mean, on sites that command a beautiful panoramic and ever-changing view of the surrounding mountains above and the villages below. It is an unforgettable, peaceful experience to sit by a Chorten and feast one’s eyes on the surrounding scenery.

Welcome to My Sherpa Village of Smiles!

We have emerged from the majestic mountain pass of Lamjura at an elevation of 11,850 feet. And now, sprawling below us is the smiling valley of Junbesi. This is my home, my happy Sherpa village in the Himalayas! Good-bye to the terraced fields. Welcome to the land of stately pine trees, to my warm Sherpa home in the cool alpine surroundings.

Before entering the village, let us sit down for a moment here on this hill. You see, a Sherpa village is different from the villages of other Nepalese ethnic groups. For one thing, Sherpa settlements are always higher in altitude. My village of Junbesi is 8,800 feet above sea level, and you will find larger Sherpa villages located at ten to fourteen thousand feet above sea level, clinging dangerously to steep mountain slopes.

Evening is fast setting in, so we’d better hurry on down to my home. Do you hear the sound of our dzo? This is our cow, different, to be sure, from the cows you’ve known, since it is a cross between the Indian zebu and the Himalayan yak. The village mastiffs are barking furiously at the dark shadows of dusk. And the rising smoke from the homes sharpens our hunger. Someone said: “East or West​—home is the best,” and I must agree. It is so satisfying to be back home under the protective Himalayas.

Enter a Sherpa Home

This Sherpa house of mine is large, two-storied, with a low-pitched gable roof covered with shingles. Most Sherpa houses like mine are built to face south and have exquisitely carved windows.

We come up the clean, wooden staircase to the polished corridor, and enter the living room on the left. The wooden floor is meticulously clean and glossy. Right below those windows facing east is a long settee covered with an abundance of Tibetan carpets​—gorgeous woolen carpets depicting the Oriental dragon, the blazing sun and symbolic flowers, all woven in fiery red, deep blue, bright orange, gold and other matching tints. Corresponding with the length of the settee is a wooden table in front. Every morning you will see my sister Ang Kandi polishing it with some waste butter and bitter-tasting leaves from the forest. The shine comes from the butter, while the leaves keep the table completely free from flies.

A Sea of Strange and Friendly Faces!

Here you are, hardly in and you are surrounded by a host of strange and eager faces. Look at our women! Tall and well built. No wonder we are very proud of them. Let me tell you something about what they are wearing. The ankle-length, warm, black woolen robe is what we call the angi. You will notice that quite a few of the women are wearing colorful thick aprons, signifying that they are married. Those heavy, bright cloth boots keep them warm and oblivious to the cold. They have long glossy hair, which on workdays they tie up in a large floral scarf on their heads. Their faces are fair and rosy, with rounded, fleshy cheeks, and their dark eyes are set at a slant. Our strong and sturdy men have also taken their stand with them, freely laughing and joking. Here’s a striking difference in the Sherpa social life from all other ethnic groups of Nepal. Instead of hovering in the background, our women join freely with the crowd.

The Warm and Informal Sherpa Hospitality

Here come my parents. Their broad smiles request you to sit down on that settee piled with carpets. Ang Kandi sets before you ornamental, white porcelain little cups placed between exquisitely designed saucers and lids. Into them mother pours the thick and steaming Sherpa tea. You sip it! It goes right into your tired nerves. It’s different from all other cups of tea that you have ever had in your life! And it should be, for have you ever sipped tea thoroughly whipped with yak butter, salt, sugar and milk in a four-foot bamboo mixer, called a dongmo?

Let me teach you the seating arrangement in a Sherpa family. First, on the extreme end of the settee, closest to the fire, my father sits. Next, you, the honored guest, and after you the formality ends. There come my relatives. They say that they’ve come to see me. But, really, they are here to have a close look at you. Deep down in their hearts they wish that they could talk in your language and see the world you’ve known.

Before we start with dinner, here’s an appetizer! It’s what we call chang. It’s the typical and exotic Sherpa beer. Low in alcohol content, and homemade with maize, wheat and yeast, it is frothy and milky white in color. Once again, those jeweled cups are before you. My sister comes to my father with the chang in a special porcelain kettle gilded with silver. Turn by turn, a cup is poured out for everyone.

Chang is a quick mixer in any company. After dinner, spirits still continue running high. Now the whole group has moved around the leaping flames of the fireplace. The womenfolk squat, breast-feeding their red-faced and chubby babies. Loud laughter greets those inconceivably funny jokes of the Sherpas. Then someone wants a change, a spine-chilling story for a nightcap! And after that, it’s off to bed.

The Dance of the Mani Rimdu

This is your second morning with the Sherpas of Junbesi, and the day promises to be an eventful one. You see, we Sherpas start celebrating the dance festival of the Mani Rimdu. For three consecutive nights we shall have the full moon. The dance is held in the Chiwong monastery, spectacularly situated high up on a cliff, 9,700 feet above sea level. The Mani Rimdu festival is a Sherpa exclusive. But its origins can be traced back to yesterday’s world of Tibetan theater.

For this occasion most of our men and boys dress in clean laveda pants, leather belt, Western coat and Nepali cap. However, they cut a far too simple picture against the dazzling gaiety of our womenfolk, who are dressed in expensive silk angis worn over loose and flowing satin blouses. The angis are mostly black, purple, gold or copper, while the blouses are red, orange and cream. Large necklaces and gold costume jewelry hang heavily down their chest and ears. The glossy black hair is interplaited with threads of warm colors. To top it all, they have those high and elegant fur caps richly embroidered in gold around the crown. This matches their equally eye-catching boots, usually in black, red and turquoise blue.

By eight in the morning we are ready to leave. The men as well as the women carry large amounts of butter, cheese, eggs and money, which are offered to the priest of the monastery. After two hours of walking up and down, we reach the Chiwong monastery. You are met by a sea of people overflowing the balconies and rolling in and out of the main gate.

Around 11 a.m. the dance begins, indulged in exclusively by the underpriests of the monastery, while the chief priest looks on. Some of the most unthinkably fierce and inhuman expressions are portrayed on the masks worn by the dancers. Cymbals clash, trumpets blare, and the huge monastery drums thunder their rhythmic beat. All the while, those energetic lamas (priests) dance out a complete story. By the time they finish, it is 6 p.m.

The day dancing belongs to the lamas, while the night is left complete for the laity. Yes, for three nights in a row Sherpa men and women hardly sleep. The pale and peaceful moon above seems to chide the insanity of the merrymaking below. Country songs are sung loud and clear, the shrill feminine tones mingling with the deep, resounding male voices. As for the older folks and the children, they doze off as the night wears on.

Farewell!

You say that you must leave, and we cannot stop you. So, please allow my people to say good-bye the Sherpa way: They want to garland you with the traditional white scarf. It is a sign of deep respect. I am going down with you to Kathmandu. Sonata, our cook, as well as our two faithful porter friends, will accompany us. As for Sonam, our porters and me, we will soon return, and we hope that you will too. Please do. Come back again to this Himalayan valley of Junbesi​—the ever-smiling Sherpa village!