Posted on 06/23/2006 4:52:09 PM PDT by Valin
Haji Ali's Lesson While building schools in Pakistan, Greg Mortenson learned a lesson from an illiterate man--the wisest man he had ever known.
By Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin
Excerpted with permission from "Three Cups of Tea," published by Viking Penguin, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
---------------------------------------------
Predictably, the jeeps carrying the wood up to Korphe were halted by another landslide that cut the track, eighteen miles shy of their destination. The next morning, while Parvi and I were discussing what to do, we saw this great big dust cloud coming down the valley, Mortenson says. Haji Ali [the leader of the village of Korphe] somehow heard about our problem, and the men of Korphe had walked all night. They arrived clapping and singing and in incredible spirits for people who hadnt slept. And then the most amazing thing of all happened. Sher Takhi had come with them and he insisted on carrying the first load.
The holy men of the villages arent supposed to degrade themselves with physical labor. But he wouldnt back down, and he led our column of thirty-five men carrying roof beams all the way, all eighteen miles to Korphe. Sher Takhi had polio as a child, and he walked with a limp, so it must have been agony for him. But he led us up the Braldu Valley, grinning under his load. It was this conservative mullahs way of showing his support for education for all the children of Korphe, even the girls.
Not all of the people of Braldu shared Sher Takhis view. A week later, Mortenson stood with his arm over Twahas [Haji Alis son] shoulder, admiring the skillful way Makhmal and his crew were fitting the roof beams into place, when a cry went up from the boys scattered across Korphes rooftops. A band of strangers was crossing the bridge, they warned, and on their way up to the village.
Mortenson followed Haji Ali to his lookout on the bluff high over the bridge. He saw five men approaching. One, who appeared to be the leader, walked at the head of the procession. The four burly men walking behind carried clubs made of poplar branches that they smacked against their palms in time with their steps. The leader was a thin, unhealthy looking older man who leaned on his cane as he climbed to Korphe. He stopped, rudely, fifty yards from Haji Ali, and made Korphes nurmadhar [village leader] walk out to greet him.
Twaha leaned toward Mortenson. This man is Haji Mehdi. No good, he whispered.
Mortenson was already acquainted with Haji Mehdi, the nurmadhar of Askole. He made a show of being a devout Muslim, Mortenson says. But he ran the economy of the whole Braldu Valley like a mafia boss. He took a percentage of every sheep, goat, or chicken the Balti sold, and he ripped off the climbers, setting outrageous prices for supplies. If someone sold so much as an egg to an expedition without playing him his cut, Haji Mehdi sent his henchmen to beat them with clubs.
After Haji Ali embraced Mehdi, Askoles nurmadhar declined his invitation to tea. I will speak out in the open, so you all can hear me, he said to the crowd assembled along the bluff. I have heard that an infidel has come to poison Muslim children, boys as well as girls, with his teachings, Haji Mehdi barked. Allah forbids the education of girls. And I forbid the construction of this school.
We will finish our school, Haji Ali said evenly. Whether you forbid it or not.
Mortenson stepped forward, hoping to defuse the violence gathering in the air. Why dont we have tea and talk about this.
I know who you are kafir, Mehdi said, using the ugliest term for an infidel. And I have nothing to say to you.
And you, are you not a Muslim? Mehdi said turning menacingly toward Haji Ali. There is only one God. Do you worship Allah? Or this kafir?
Haji Ali clapped his hand on Mortensons shoulder. No one else has ever come here to help my people. Ive paid you money every year but you have done nothing for my village. This man is a better Muslim than you. He deserves my devotion more than you do.
"If you insist on keeping your kafir school, you must pay a price," Mehdi said.
Haji Mehdis men fingered their clubs uneasily. He raised a hand to steady them. If you insist on keeping your kafir school, you must pay a price, Mehdi said, the lids of his eyes lowering. I demand twelve of your largest rams.
As you wish, Haji Ali said, turning his back on Mehdi, to emphasize how he had degraded himself by demanding a bribe. Bring the chogo rabak! he ordered.
You have to understand, in these villages, a ram is like a firstborn child, a prize cow, and family pet all rolled into one, Mortenson explains. The most sacred duty of each familys oldest boy was to care for their rams, and they were devastated.
Haji Ali kept his back turned to the visitors until twelve boys approached, dragging the thick-horned, heavy-hooved beasts. He accepted the bridles from them and tied the rams together. All the boys wept as they handed over their most cherished possessions to their nurmadhar. Haji Ali led the line of rams, lowing mournfully, to Haji Mehdi, and threw the lead to him without a word. Then he turned on his heel and herded his people toward the site of the school.
It was one of the most humbling things Ive ever seen, Mortenson says. Haji Ali had just handed over half the wealth of the village to that crook, but he was smiling like hed just won a lottery
Haji Ali paused before the building everyone in the village had worked so hard to raise. It held its ground firmly before Korphe K2, with snuggly built stone walls, plastered and painted yellow, and thick wooden doors to beat back the weather. Never again would Korphes children kneel over their lessons on frozen ground. Dont be sad, he told the shattered crowd. Long after all those rams are dead and eaten this school will still stand. Haji Mehdi has food today. Now our children have education forever.
After dark, by the light of the fire that smoldered in his balti, Haji Ali beckoned Mortenson to sit beside him. He picked up his dog-eared, grease-spotted Koran and held it before the flames. Do you see how beautiful this Koran is? Haji Ali asked.
Yes.
I cant read it, he said I cant read anything. This is the greatest sadness in my life. Ill do anything so the children of my village never have to know this feeling. Ill pay any price so they have the education they deserve.
Sitting there beside him, Mortenson says, I realized that everything, all the difficulties Id gone through, from the time Id promised to build the school, through the long struggle to complete it, was nothing compared to the sacrifices he was prepared to make for his people. Here was this illiterate man, whod hardly ever left his little village in the Karakoram, Mortenson says. Yet he was the wisest man Ive ever met
the nurmadhar of Askole
that is what I want to be when I grow up: "the nurmadhar of Askole".
LOL! Setting your sights pretty high!
Three Cups of Tea, one of the best books I've read in quite a while.
AR-10's first. Schools second. That way you can keep your goats. Someone should have put the warlord in a grave a long time ago.
Bump. Beautiful story...
Yo, chickensoup ... it ain't no big thing .. I've been a normal kind of @$$hole my entire life ... trust me ... you don't want it.
/8^)
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.