Three Tea Essay

“The Man Who Could Move Mountains”

The hours of darkness spread out before him as he tries to find comfort on the solid ice. Exposed, lost, and alone, Greg relinquishes the thought of ever obtaining sleep amongst the immovable mountain top. Though an acquaintance of solitude, Greg couldn’t help but feel “completely ignored by Nature,” tonight wasn’t just about man versus mountain, warmth against cold, the impassive against the emotional; these hours of darkness were about one mans failure and his will to survival.

Greg Mortenson descends K2 with exhausted reserve; amidst the frosted peaks of the unforgivable mountain, he is seized by the stark realization of failure. Greg Mortenson, born with the spirit of a mountaineer, grew up on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro in Northern Tanzania. To honor the memory of his late sister, Christa, Greg attempted to scale K2, the world’s second largest mountain.

As he sought to recover from an unexpected rescue mission of his fellow teammate, Greg’s spirit, though resilient and fervent to finish the job he started, was overruled by intense sleep deprivation his body had suffered. He would be granted proper rest, only when he entered into the unmapped village of Korphe, an impoverished parish in Pakistan eight miles south of Askole.

John Steinbeck, said it best in his 1939 novel, The Grapes of Wrath, “Whenever you’re in trouble, hurt, or in need, go to poor people...” for Korphe, meat was rare, but Greg was given meat; sugar was rare, and they gave him sugar in the two cups of tea that he drank. This underdeveloped civilization offered the best of everything they had to this infidel, this stranger, and while the other villagers slept under thin worn wool, Greg slept beneath the finest possessions in Haji Ali’s home. The generous spirit of Korphe’s community permeated as effortlessly as the snowfall in winter.

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Already Greg has demonstrated to his readers, that though Pakistan can be harsh and at times cold, that doesn’t necessarily apply to its residents. In return for their warm compassion, after seeing the dismal structure of Korphe’s “school”, Greg Mortenson thought of a new way to pay tribute to his sister’s memory, placing his hand on Chief Haji Ali’s shoulder, he promised to return and build them a school. Little did he know, he was about to embark on a mission that not only changes his life, but the lives of thousands of Pakistani men, women, and children. This was one challenge that was even bigger than the overwhelming K2.

A wise man once said “The impossible is often untried.” To the average man building schools in a perceived hostile territory might seem unfeasible, it even might be considered cumbersome. There was no fifty thousand dollar reward if Greg completed all these schools. What’s in it for me? That’s what the average human being would ask. Why must there be a prize for kindness? Why can’t we extend our hand and help someone up for the simple fact that it’s the right thing to do?

When the nights of Pakistan and America were at its darkest, bodies burned, children became orphans and wives became widows from all over, during the time of that cold war. But the schools served as a guiding light to a better Pakistan. Ahmed Rashid, Pakistani journalist says, “They (children) admire war because it’s the only occupation they could adapt to,” but by placing pencils instead of guns into those small hands, we show them that knowledge has more power than any semi-automatic. Through education the children wouldn’t have to live the hard life their parents had lived. They would have options instead of going into the militant madrassas, which unfortunately, are growing by the numbers, as are their followers.

Greg wasn’t looking to change the culture of Pakistan, as some of its inhabitants would believe. He was trying to show them that diarrhea, birth, and malnutrition don’t have to be the leading causes of death. While the fighting went on, and America’s hate for the Islamic and Muslim world heightened, the women of the Kuardu village sent eggs to show their grief for the widows of New York, wanting the women to know, that all of Pakistan weren’t terrorists, and that those who were, are not the pious followers of Allah.

Out across the sea, we have sisters and brothers, who need our help, if the situation were reversed, would we not hope that some humane person or country would see our bleak condition and offer aid as Greg did? A lot of Americans didn’t understand Greg’s motives, he saw a quiet strength in these inhabitants, a sort of fortitude that reminded him of his sister, and all he wanted to do was help.

He had to make a lot of personal sacrifices in order to keep his promise; from sleeping on park benches, to sleeping in the hallway of one of his friend’s house. He had to deal in some unsavory conditions, such as being kidnapped for eight days and living in a cell with only the Times to read, even meeting the Taliban.

Many of the accomplishments that Greg has managed, might make a twenty dollar donation to St. Jude’s Hospital seem trivial, but no one is asking every man to move mountains, only that while we’re keeping our corner of the world clean, we look out, and see if anyone else needs assistance.

There are always people, who declare their intentions for a greater good, and then there’s that one individual who doesn’t speak, he simply acts. Three Cups of Tea has dared me to test my limits, to reach out and not judge a nation by the transgressions of one group. The greatest lesson we can learn from this book is that we should listen, learn, and above all, help in anyway that we can.