|
'Three
Cups of Tea' and a man with a mission
By
Alan Shapiro
Just when
I think the world is collapsing, daughter Ann places in my hands Three Cups
of Tea: One Man's Mission to Promote Peace
One School at a Time. The
book focuses on the people of Baltistan, a remote, spectacularly beautiful region
of northeastern Pakistan, and Greg Mortenson, the man with a mission. A
teacup could hold what most of us know about Pakistan. Many may know that Pakistan's
neighbor to the west is Afghanistan. We may know that most of Pakistan's people
are Muslims. That some live free of government control in tribal areas that harbor
Taliban and Al Qaeda forces. That they cross the border for bombings and combat
in Afghanistan, then return to safe havens, which American drones have begun striking
with missiles. That Pakistan suffers frequent suicide bombings, including one
that killed presidential candidate Benazir Bhutto. That some Pakistani madrassas
(schools) have two subjects: the Koran and jihad. That Pakistan is one of the
most dangerous places in the world and will pose a major challenge to President
Obama. If
we know much more, we might make the short list for a position in the State Department.
Mortenson knows a lot more, but unless we've read or heard about his book, co-authored
with David Relin, we're unlikely to know anything about him. On
September 2, 1993, Mortenson was a member of an expedition climbing K2, "The
Savage Peak." K2, at 28,251 feet, is second only to Mt. Everest in height
and is one of more than 60 formidable peaks in the Karakoram Range. After he had
climbed to within a half mile of the summit, Mortenson lost his way. K2 had disappeared
into the mists. With the light failing, he rolled himself up in a blanket and
lay down on a slab of rock until dawn. Late
the next morning he heard the bells of a donkey caravan and spotted a man. It
was Mouzafer Ali, his porter. He was found. A
week later, on the expedition's difficult descent, Mortenson once again lost his
way and Mouzafer Ali. He crossed a "bridge" of yak hairs at 10,000 feet
and came upon women kneeling over baskets of apricots who "pulled their shawls
over their faces when they saw him and ran to put trees between themselves and
the Angrezi, the strange white man." Mortenson's hair was long and tangled,
and he hadn't had a shower for three months. He
had arrived at Korphe, a village "perched on a shelf eight hundred feet above
the Braldu River
. a tightly packed warren of square three-story stone homes
."
Watching him was an old man, Haji Ali, the chief of Korphe."As-salaam Alaaikum,"
the old man said as he led Mortenson to a brook to wash his hands and face. Then
he took him into his hut, gave him ibex jerky and a cup of bitter tea, and introduced
him to his wife Sakina and extended family. Mouzafer arrived the next morning. Mortenson
felt something special in Haji Ali's welcoming home that led him to remain there
to recuperate rather than rooming at a comfortable lodge in a town miles below.
He became familiar with the people of Korphe. A trauma nurse by profession, Mortenson
now found himself in a village without a doctor or a nurse. He treated wounds
with tubes of antibiotic, set broken bones and became known to the people as Dr.
Greg. A
visit to Korphe's school with Haji Ali sealed Mortenson's growing love for the
people of this village. He "was appalled to see eighty-two children, seventy-eight
boys and four girls who had the pluck to join them, kneeling on the frosty ground,
in the open." Haji Ali told him they had no school building, and the Pakistani
government provided no teacher, for a teacher cost an unaffordable one dollar
a day. Korphe shared a teacher with a neighboring village. Mortenson
watched as the children, standing at attention, opened their school day to sing
the Pakistani national anthem. Then they sat in a circle copying their multiplication
tables, most scratching them in the dirt with sticks. The more affluent among
them, like Jahan, a young girl, had slate boards they wrote on with a mixture
of mud and water. Standing
next to Haji Ali overlooking the valley, Mortenson said to him, "I'm going
to build you a school
.I will build you a school. I promise." With these
words, he abandoned his trauma nursing career and mountaineering to begin a new
life. Local experts told him that to build the school with local materials and
local workers he needed the equivalent of $12,000. Back
in Berkeley, California, Mortenson lived in the back seat of an old Buick. He
wrote hundreds of letters on a rented typewriter to everyone he knew and celebrities
he didn't asking for money for the school. Results were negligible. But a brief
item about Mortenson's project in the national newsletter of the American Himalayan
Foundation was read by Dr. Jean Hoerni, a climber who was also a scientist in
the semiconductor industry -- and rich. He gave Mortenson $12,000. The
money was essential, as were Mortenson's time, effort, ingenuity, and single mindedness.
Hoerni's contribution paid for flights to and from Pakistan and cement, roof beams
and other materials that were haggled over and transported, with great difficulty,
to Korphe. Local associates, among them Mouzafer Ali, helped Mortenson deal with
con artists, daunting roads, and replacing the yak hair bridge. Mortenson learned
the ways of the people, including Islam. And he drove his workers and himself
very hard. But
Haji Ali, told him, "If you want to thrive in Baltistan, you must respect
our ways. The first time you share tea with a Balti, you are a stranger. The second
time you take tea, you are an honored guest. The third time you share a cup of
tea, you become family, and for our family, we are prepared to do anything, even
die. Doctor Greg, you must make time to share three cups of tea. We may be uneducated.
But we are not stupid. We have lived and survived here for a long time." Mortenson:
"That day Haji Ali taught me the most important lesson I've ever learned
in my life. We Americans think you have to accomplish everything quickly. We're
the country of thirty-minute power lunches and two-minute football drills. Our
leaders thought their 'shock and awe' campaign could end the war in Iraq before
it even started. Haji Ali taught me to share three cups of tea, to slow down and
make building relationships as important as building projects. He taught me that
I had more to learn from the people I work with than I could ever hope to teach
them." It
took three years to construct the Korphe school, and it was a formidable task.
Nevertheless, Mortenson was determined to build more schools, especially for girls,
who very often received no education at all. Mortenson faced new challenges, including
being held incommunicado by a Taliban group for a week in Waziristan, struggling
to work with mixed groups of Shiites and Sunnis, helping to bring doctors and
water to places that didn't have them, and becoming the subject of a fatwa (a
religious opinion on Islamic law that, in this case, condemned Mortenson). The
man who was responsible for having the fatwa against Mortenson lifted was a Shia
scholar named Syed Abbas Risvi, who had come to respect the former climber: "I
looked into his heart
and saw him for what he is-an infidel, but a noble
man, nonetheless, who dedicates his life to the education of children." With
an endowment from Hoerni, Mortenson developed the Central Asia Institute (CAI)
to build more schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan. "CAI schools would teach
the exact same curriculum as any good Pakistani government school. There would
be none of the 'comparative cultures' classes then so popular in the West, nothing
conservative religious leaders could point to as 'anti-Islamic' in an effort to
shut the schools down. But neither would they let the schools preach the fiery
brand of fundamentalist Islam taught in many of the country's madrassas." Mortenson
said, "I don't want to teach Pakistan's children to think like Americans.
I just want them to have a balanced, non-extremist education. That idea is at
the very center of what we do." After
9/11, a Denver Post reporter, Bruce Finley accompanied Mortenson on a trip
to Pakistan. They visited the Shamshatoo Refugee Camp where nearly 100 CAI teachers
were working under dreadful conditions to teach Afghan children. Mortenson told
Finley, "The only way we can defeat terrorism is if people in this country
where terrorists exist learn to respect and love Americans, and if we can respect
and love these people here. What's between them becoming a productive local citizen
or a terrorist? I think the key is education." Through
the help of California Representative Mary Bono, Mortenson spoke before a congressional
committee in Washington. A congressman interrupted him in mid-sentence. "Building
schools for kids is just fine and dandy. But our primary need as a nation is security.
Without security, where does all this matter?" "I
don't do what I'm doing to fight terror," Mortenson answered. "I do
it because I care about kids
.But working over there, I've learned a few
things. I've learned that terror doesn't happen because some group of people somewhere
like Pakistan or Afghanistan simply decide to hate us. It happens because children
aren't being offered a bright enough future that they have a reason to choose
life over death." He went on to speak about Pakistan's miserably funded schools
and the Wahhabi madrassas (which teach a very conservative version of Islam) financed
by rich Saudis that were spreading across Pakistan. A
few months later he spoke at the Pentagon. Mortenson finished his talk by commenting
on the wreckage of a home he'd seen in Kabul where a cruise missile had struck.
"I'm no military expert," he said. "And these figures might not
be exactly right. But as best as I can tell, we've launched 114 Tomahawk cruise
missiles into Afghanistan so far. Now take the cost of one of those missiles tipped
with a Raytheon guidance system, which I think is about $840,000. For that much
money, you could build dozens of schools that could provide tens of thousands
of students with a balanced non-extremist education over the course of a generation.
Which do you think will make us more secure?" His
answer is clear enough. Fifteen years after he stumbled upon Korphe to be greeted
by Haji Ali, Mortenson is still at work building schools--to date, 55 in Pakistan,
8 in Afghanistan, and more than a dozen others under construction. They serve
26,000 children, 16,000 of them girls. Finishing
Three Cups of Tea, I was reminded of Thomas Merton's "A Letter to
a Young Activist. "Do not depend on the hope of results," Merton wrote.
"When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on
you may have
to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve
no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get
used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but
on the value, the truth of the work itself." Mortenson
concentrates "on the value, the truth of the work itself," but also
achieves results. Jahan, the young girl writing on a piece of slate with mud and
water the first day Mortenson visited the Korphe school, later completed a maternal
health training course. "Courtesy of the CAI
she was in high school,
where her studies included English grammar, formal Urdu, Arabic, physics, economics
and history." Her goal was to become a doctor, like Dr. Greg. Note: At
www.threecupsoftea.com you can order
a copy of Three Cups of Tea, as well as copies of a young adult's and a
children's version of it. The site includes reviews, photographs and additional
information about Mortenson. A
site designed for school children, www.penniesforpeace.org,
offers an opportunity to get your class and/or school involved in Mortenson's
work. Updates
on the work of the Central Asia Institute and a site that accepts tax-deductible
contributions is at www.ikat.org. For
photographs and biographical information, see www.gregmortenson.com.
This
essay was written for TeachableMoment.Org, a project of Morningside
Center for Teaching Social Responsibility. We welcome
your comments. Please email them to: lmcclure@morningsidecenter.org.
Back
to top
|