Experiencing another culture

Life with the Sherpas revealed different ways of seeing the world. It peeled away my preconceived notions. I have come to see that while outside cultures divide us, inner cultures, the core of all religions and beliefs, can bring us together.

Arriving at the ridge crest, each Sherpa companion murmured a prayer and placed a small stone from the path on the cairn with prayer flags. I followed suit, relieved that our trekking group had traveled this path safely.

Further along, we paused and turned out backs as wind and dust blasted across the pastures. We hid our faces in our jackets. Seeing only the ground before me, a premonition — an impact on the back of my head and a sudden sense of nothingness.

I reacted by taking two steps forward. In that instant a thick plank, blown off a nearby hut, hit the back of my ankle. Stunned, I realized that had I not moved, the plank would have struck my head.

This event was my first real experience with the Sherpa perception of place, of the power of these mountains.

Mountain scenery first attracted me to the Himalaya, but the warm, friendly people became my enduring connection. From 1983 to 1989, I had the opportunity and privilege to live and work with Sherpa people in the Khumbu Valley of east Nepal near Mount Everest, helping to create a museum of Sherpa culture at Tengboche monastery.

The Sherpas are renowned through the literature of adventure, where they have earned an international reputation for their work on mountaineering expeditions, especially on Everest. However, this reputation focuses on an occupation, rather than the Sherpas’ rich cultural heritage.

The museum described mostly what the Abbot of Tengboche calls the Sherpas’ “inner culture” and the importance of ceremonies that link their spiritual and physical lives. The preparation of the museum took time because it was essential to first know the people and the many dimensions of their culture in order to accurately and concisely depict it.

While compiling information for the museum, I often found that conversations encompassed aspects of philosophy, psychology, and spirituality. Often the subjects we discussed wandered to the questions we seek to answer with religion or science: How did the earth begin? What happens after death? What is our relationship to nature? To our symbols in the environment?

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Conversations encompassed the metaphysical and the everyday.

Over the years, my questions turned from the intellectual to the intuitive. I began to experience the culture rather than question it. Life with the Sherpas revealed different ways of seeing the world. It peeled away my preconceived notions so that I began to appreciate the significance of rituals, traditions, and symbols. In the process, I was changed.

Sherpa friends introduced me to a new way of seeing the world through everyday life. Whether monk or shepherd, they know who they are and what they believe as “Sherpa people”. I saw an acceptance of mystery and of questions we just cannot answer.

Living in another culture forced me to think about how it works, to confront the ironies and inconsistencies of a different way of being. Soon, I realized that one layer of meaning reveals more queries within. The more one starts to understand, the more one realizes all there is to question and explore.

Looking at other cultures as different from our own, we split the whole into parts. We analyze what we see happening and ask why. For people of the other culture, it is their way of life.

We examine the oddity of different traditions and customs rather than the inner purposes that might bring us into an understanding of the culture. We end up looking at how the “other” culture is different from our culture rather than at our commonness in the wholeness of humankind.

While working on the museum, I started to see and question the ironies of my own culture and gained a new way of looking at myself and at my own way of life. I was moved by what I saw and experienced.

I became a believer in the value of inner culture that manifests itself in everything we do — in small actions in everyday life, in our interactions with everyone we meet, and in what we think and say.

I have come to see that while outside cultures divide us, inner cultures, the core of all religions and beliefs, can bring us together.

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The intention of offerings is most important.

 

 

Tengboche in our hearts and minds

Pic013Tengboche holds a special place in the hearts and minds of both Sherpas and world visitors. On a ridge in the heart of the Khumbu valley, it is more than just a monastery. The scene of the monastery surrounded by snow-clad peaks, realizes many people’s notions of Shangri-La, of a sacred place beyond our daily existence.

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Married lamas performing village rituals, Junbesi, 1983

Despite Tengboche’s fame, the Sherpas only founded celibate monasteries relatively recently. For about four centuries, they practised their faith in hermitages and each village’s gonda (temple) under the direction of married lamas (teachers) who performed the rituals required by the community.

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Lama Sangwa Dorje footprints in stone, Tengboche

In 1914, the Abbot of Rongbuk monastery on the north side of Everest in Tibet told a devout Sherpa, Lama Gulu, to establish a celibate monastery in the Khumbu. Lama Gulu went home to Khumbu and discussed the request with other Sherpas. They proposed several sites, including a remote ridge called Tengboche. Lama Gulu returned for advice to Rongbuk, where the abbot replied, “At Tengboche, at the edge of the flat area, where Lama Sangwa Dorje left footprints in stone.”

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Tengboche monks reading Buddhist books in Namche gompa

Sherpas from many villages worked for three years to build a gonda for Tengboche monastery. They completed it in 1919 and the Abbot of Rongbuk came for the opening celebrations. His presence attracted Sherpas from several days’ walk away. Thus, Tengboche became a focal point for Sherpa religious activities and the larger community of Khumbu.

In 1932, an earthquake destroyed the monastery’s main temple. Lama Gulu was not injured but passed away that night. The monks of Tengboche went to Tibet to visit the Rongbuk Abbot, who told them to rebuild the gonda. He donated some money to start the reconstruction.

Six years later, a young child from Nauche was brought to the Rongbuk Abbot, who recognized him as the reincarnation of Lama Gulu.

That child grew up to be Tengboche Rinpoche, the abbot of Tengboche monastery in the Khumbu valley. The Sherpas regard him as the reincarnate of the monastery’s founder. Everyone calls him by his title, Tengboche Rinpoche, and rarely by his given name, Ngawang Tenzing Zangbu.

Tibetan Buddhists reserve the title Rinpoche for special teachers and their reincarnates. The Buddhist people of the Himalaya revere thousands of rinpoches in Nepal, Tibet, Bhutan, and India.

When asked about the changes in the Khumbu valley, Tengboche Rinpoche has replied:

“There are outward changes in appearances: some of our dress, houses, occupations, and opportunities.

“However, our Sherpa ceremonies and traditions — how we name children, assist the dead, get married, and celebrate a year’s passage — all this remains intact. What is most important to us remains. The coming of foreign visitors to Khumbu has not changed our inner culture.”Pic0103

Mugu: Between terrain and tradition

Mugu… the district known as the poorest and most remote in Nepal. Both terrain and traditions have limited development. 

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Challenges and Lessons for working in remote areas

Landlocked on the south slope of the Himalaya, the rugged mountains of Nepal present a challenge to development and the health and welfare of its people. Much of Nepal’s population of lives in rural areas and continues to struggle with food insecurity and poverty with the per capita income at just US $ 642 (MoF 2011). With increases in the population from 8.5 million in 1954 to 18.5 million in 1991 and 26.6 million in 2011, Nepal has changed from being a net exporter of rice to being an importer of this important food commodity.

In the difficult and remote terrain of the mountainous districts of Nepal, the logistics of transportation, seasons for implementation, and personnel are major factors in the progress of development activities. The road from Jumla was only constructed up to Mugu in 2013. Plane and helicopter services are irregular at the airstrip. Walking to reach Mugu District from the neighbouring districts takes two days to Jumla, five to Humla, and seven to Surkhet.

Despite these challenges, Nepal’s 2011 demographic health survey found improvements in the nourishment of children and women’s use of antenatal care and institutional deliveries from skilled providers. Nepal is one of ten countries in the world making the swiftest gains in health and education since 1970, but it continues to stand at 138 of 177 countries according to the UN HDI for 2009.

However, in the mid and far Western region of Nepal, life is harsher and health improvements are coming much more slowly. The UN HDI for Nepal continues to rank Mugu district at 75th of 75. Geographic isolation and archaic traditions hold back most residents of Mugu with a lack of knowledge, services, and opportunities. In 2008, life expectancy in Mugu was 36 years, due to acute respiratory infections caused by smoke in the kitchen, malnutrition, a lack of well-functioning health facilities, and high maternal, infant, and child mortality rates. Similarly, the literacy rate of 40.7% was far below the national average of 60% in 2009.

The initial planning of development projects could consider the working seasons determined by either winter snows or monsoon rains so that cost-effective transportation of materials can be done in time for the construction season – in the case of the Himalaya, the spring and fall. Another lesson is to investigate the use of techniques for infrastructure that minimise the use of expensive imported materials by utilizing local construction methods and materials as much as possible. This would also help to lower the cost per beneficiary.

Remote areas can be a very unattractive posting for staff from urban or developed places. As well, they will leave once their job finishes. A good practice is to employ local personnel, whether field supervisors, health staff, motivators, or volunteers. The local personnel know the languages, culture, and traditions. They are trusted by the local people. Another advantage of local personnel is that they are more likely to remain in the area contributing to the local capacity and to the sustainability of the interventions.

As well, in isolated areas, time-bound traditions can present unique challenges for communications about healthier behaviours. The inhabitants of isolated areas often have strong traditions. Some are important indigenous knowledge for living in that landscape, while others can be practices (such as Chaupadi) that are harmful to the health and well-being of women and children. Local personnel can show the way for changing harmful behaviours first in their homes and then by setting an example for the rest of the community.

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Yet, while there are challenges to providing health and education, village houses have TV dishes and shops offer internet.

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A Sherpa Legend: Historian, Trader, and Dignitary

Pic06     Khonjo Chombi was renowned among the Sherpas as a village leader, for his knowledge of Sherpas folk songs, and his skill as a dancer.  He was often asked for his knowledge of Sherpa history and culture so Tengboche Rinpoche had appointed him to be one of my ‘informants’ for the Sherpa Cultural Centre while I worked there in the 1980s.Pic0102

On one visit…IMG_0040

Khonjo Chombi is sitting by the window of his house in Khumjung sewing prayer flags onto bamboo sticks.

“Everyone from our clan is putting up new prayer flags today.  Then, I have to give a speech at a wedding in Namche.  It introduces the two families, even though they’ve known each other for generations.”

“What about your own family history?”

As he continues stitching, he begins, “When people ask about my life story, I first must tell them about my family history.”

Khonjo Chombi pauses as he finds more thread for his needle. “Way back, one ancestor moved from Lhasa to Kham in eastern Tibet, where he settled, practised religion, and had a family.”  He then names off successive generations of ancestors for three hundred years.

“In the fifth generation, there was a war between Kham and Tibet.  My ancestor, Michentokpa, did not want to fight because it was against the Buddhist tenets to kill any living being.  So, he left Kham and first went west to the north side of Everest, then crossed the pass into Khumbu.  He may have been one of the first to cross this way into the Khumbu ‘beyul’ (the sacred hidden valley).

First, he settled up high near treeline at Pangboche.  This place was like Tibet.  Later, his grandson moved south to the Solu valley, to a place called Thakdobuk just below a pass.  Our clan name Thakdopa comes from this place.  Eight generations later, my family moved to Thame in the Khumbu.  After another three generations, my great grandfather moved to Khunde.  He had five sons.  My grandfather’s marriage was arranged so that he moved into this house as a son-in-law.  My father was his only son, and I was my father’s only son.

“My father traded sheep, goats, and ponies throughout eastern Nepal and to Darjeeling in India.”  He pulls out a big plastic bag of folded papers, some written in Nepali script and others in Tibetan.  He reads aloud from one of the documents dated the Nepali year 1885 (1828 AD).

“This paper from the government in Kathmandu granted us Sherpas a monopolySlide039 on the trade route between Nepal and Tibet over the Nangpa La pass.  It allowed only Khumbu people to cross the pass.  Before the Nepali kings, we paid land taxes to the Kiranti kings in the east and food taxes to the Tibetans.”

These villages in the remote Khumbu Valley have always been in the nexus of different political authorities, although the Nepali kings ruled since 1769, the Sherpas retained their distinct culture with similar traditions to the Tibetan people to the north. Prior to 1769, various ethnic kingdoms in east Nepal had had enough power over the Sherpas at times to demand taxes or tributes.

Pic012Pulling out another paper, he continues, “This list of rules is from the Nepali year 1910 (1853 AD); it also records the taxes collected and how much land people owned.  The government in Kathmandu was impressed that my father had dealt with thieves robbing traders in east Nepal, so they asked him to be the tax collector in Khumjung.

“My father performed our Buddhist rituals and treated people with herbal medicines as an amje (traditional doctor).  He was also a politician, lawyer, tailor, and carpenter.  As a politician and trader, he was sued many times, even in Tibet.

“He had many regrets about having killed people, especially the way he took care of thieves in east Nepal.  So when he was old, he left home and became a hermit at the age of 68 and died when he was 78.”

“Did you learn Tibetan herbal medicine from your father?”

“No.  My father and the father of Namche’s amje (herbal doctor) trained together in Tibet.  My father had many notes for making herbal medicine.  When I was four, our house burned down.  The notes were lost, so he could not train me as an amje.  I always felt this was really too bad, because my father had a cure for smallpox.  After he died, the disease struck again twice in Khumbu.  Many people died that time.  That is when we built the big chorten at the entrance to our village.  The second time, the Nepali health worker died first.  We buried the body so as not to spread the disease.  Later, we were vaccinated by cutting a cross on the skin.”

“Do you remember the first foreigners you ever met?”

“I first saw them when I was trading in Darjeeling and Calcutta.  I would normally go twice a year.  In the fall, I’d take dzopchioks to Tibet and trade them for Tibetan horses which everyone liked because they were so strong.  I’d take the horses to Sikkim or Nepal.  I’d also sell Tibetan goods as I went through Solu to the Indian border.

“Finally, I’d go to Calcutta with the money.  What a surprise the first time I went.  There were people from all over east India and the British with their trains and cars.  In Calcutta, I’d buy cloth and corals to bring back to Khumbu and then Tibet.

“When I was young, I wasn’t very business-like.  Once, another man and I finished our business in three days and then spent the next two weeks travelling around learning new songs and dances.  On those many trips to Tibet, we’d always sing and dance and have a good time with the people where we stayed.  Finally we returned to Khumbu before we spent all our money.”

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Photograph by C. von Haimendorf, cira 1957

“The first foreigners that I met were on the early climbing expeditions in Khumbu.  I met them because I a village headman.  For example, I always remember the anthropologist Haimendorf.  He stayed with us a long time after arriving in the middle of the monsoon.  The time I met the most foreigners was when I went to America with the yeti scalp.”

Khonjo Chombi brings out an old photo album and shows me photographs of his tour in the 1960s.  Sir Edmund Hillary had led an expedition in 1964 to view and photograph a yeti, the legendary ‘snowman’ of the Himalaya.  Early Western explorers had claimed to have seen huge footprints of a two-legged creature in snow on the high passes.

Sherpas have legends of the yeti.  About 350 years ago, the ‘patron saint’ of Khumbu, Lama Sangwa Dorje was particularly fond of a yeti who brought him food and water while the he was in meditation retreat.  When the yeti died, the Lama put its scalp and hand bones as relics in the Pangboche village gompa.  There is also a yeti scalp in Khumjung gompa.

Khonjo Chombi explains, “The foreigners requested that they be allowed to take the scalp to their foreign lands to show it to their doctors.  The villagers agreed if one of us could accompany the scalp on its journey around the world.  They chose me to go.  The foreigners brought in a flying machine that I’d never seen before.  I had to get into the machine – now I know it is called a helicopter.  We flew to Kathmandu, where I got into a bigger flying machine, with two other men.

“First we went to England.  Here is a photograph of me with the Queen,” says Khonjo Chombi as he points out the picture of himself in his traditional Sherpa garb with a young looking Queen Elizabeth.

“Next we went to New York, then Washington.”  He shows a photograph of himself and a US president.  More photographs followed of Chicago, San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge, Tokyo, and Hong Kong.  “They kept looking at our yeti scalp, while I had a good time.”

Just then, a young man enters the room.  He tells Khonjo Chombi how he and his wife have lost two babies in the past four years, but they now have a new baby boy.  He had asked Tengboche Rinpoche for an auspicious name for the child, and is now here asking Khonjo Chombi to recite the prayers for the child’s naming ceremony.

Khonjo Chombi agrees to come perform the rituals the next day.  The man invites me to the party and I accept knowing that to the Sherpas, one helps the host gain merit by receiving their hospitality at these ceremonies.

Both the man and I take our leave.  Once outside, he says, “Without Khonjo Chombi we would have so many problems.  He tells us the best times to plant potatoes and to dig them; to send livestock to the high pastures, and to bring them down.  If there is a quarrel in the village, he is called in to settle the dispute.  When he is gone, I don’t know who will be able to replace him.”

Note: Khonjo Chombi passed away in the early 1990s.

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The most common of experiences

DSC01500Late in the monsoon, lines of families wind their way through the streets of old settlements in the Kathmandu Valley. Boys and some girls are dressed in festive costumes as ‘cows’. Wealthy families have a band, whether a blaring brass band or a traditional band with drums and bamboo flutes.

Some families lead a cow on a leash; a cow being the symbolic assistant for the deceased in their journey through the afterlife. Gai Jatra is is a procession of the families bereaved in the past year. Crowds come out to watch for everyone is sharing their common experience, an experience that is part of life for each and every one of us. No exceptions.

It all began centuries ago when a queen was distraught at the death of her son. The king had tried everything to console her. Finally, realising the common experience of so many families, he commanded that every family having suffered bereavement in past year should join this procession in recognition of their common experience.

This commonness is shared among the families of the Newari culture as part of the wheel of life, but it is also a festival celebrating the common experience of all beings.

The first times that I witnessed the procession, its profoundness escaped me. Gradually, living in another culture (or cultures) forced me to think about another way of being. Soon, I realized that these processions and rituals celebrated and acknowledged experiences common to everyone. Instead of examining the oddity of different traditions and customs we can seek the inner purposes that might bring us into an understanding of the culture. We can look at our commonness in the wholeness of humankind.

These experiences embracing the sacred and the profane engage us in a whole life experience. I realised how profoundly my own beliefs had shifted to the more eastern, Buddhist perspective when both my mother and youngest sister in Canada were ill and passing away with cancer.

Although I don’t honestly know how I’ll react when my time comes, I realise that this is the most common and inevitable of human experiences. Each of us will experience bereavement and our own death.

How do we as westerners bridge the gap from seeing death as ‘failure’ to seeing life as a precious opportunity, which is by its very nature limited. We make the best of life while we can, but realise that it will end and that each and every one of us will experience this.

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