Hillary Promises School For Junbesi Village

Press, Volume CII, Issue 30190, 23 July 1963, Page 9

Hillary Promises School For Junbesi Village

[By J. G. WILSON, of the Hillary Himalayan Expedition] Our march out from the Himalayas to Katmandu had officially started. We were camped at 14,000 feet in the flower pastures of the high-level route out of Khumjung.

The expedition numbers had been swollen some weeks before by the arrival of the “memsahibs”—Lady Hillary, my wife Ann, and Dorene Del Fium, the friend of one of our American members. The three had flown halfway in by Swiss Red Cross plane, and had trekked six days into Khumjung in time to join the closing ceremonies of the expedition—the Khumjung sports meet (organised by Desmond Doig, to everyone’s huge delight), the Thami school opening, the Everest anniversary and the grand round-up tour of the schools.

undined recipient, and we were soon informed of a feast to be held in our honour that evening. On an upper balcony facing the courtyard to the main gompa building, a long table had been spread with lovely embroidered tablecloths.

At the appointed hour we took our places in uncertain anticipation—uncertain, because the quality of fare at such Sherpa repasts is apt to vary violently in hygiene and flavour. We need not have worried. First came an excellent rakshi. Though the brimming bowls were small, this strong Sherpa spirit is so potent we could manage only the courteous three sips and three refills demanded by custom. It was as well that we imbibed no deeper, for determined not to risk an unmellow reception, our smiling hosts next pressed us to chang, the Sherpa beer. With a cheerfully rosy view of things, we then partook of a very fine meal, Delicious tukpa—a flour noodle base with meat and sauce flavouring—was followed by bananas and yak’s milk, and washed down with tea. Replete and forced politely to refuse further helpings, we settled back to the main part of the evening’s proceedings. The village headmen, a surprisingly young and extremely vigorous and attractive group, had been our genial hosts for the meal. Now their faces grew serious as they became their village’s representatives in an important mission. Sincere Promise

Now, a few day’s delightful rest amongst incredible arrays of wild flowers —primroses, poppies, azaleas, dwarf rhododendrons, buttercups—had drawn to a close. The long decent from our high camp to the village of Junbesi lay ahead. As, through sleep-filled eyes, we rummaged round for clothes and began to think about packing, the fly disappeared off the tent, and the tent itself started to shake alarmingly. A hurried plea for a minute more ’ saved us being rolled up with the tent by the enthusiastic Sherpas. The rain had ceased and clearing mist was giving tantalising glimpses of the snow peaks at the head of the valley. We blinked ourselves to life. Around us the camp was abustle With activity and, as we ate our breakfast (porridge, eggs and chips, and chapatties, a thin flour cake) the first porters set off. High and Lonely Soon—too soon—we were away after them. A gentle climb to a 15,000 ft pass took us into mist again, and our long sidle round the hillside beyond was eerily secluded by a moving curtain of greyness, greatly enhancing our feeling of height and loneliness.

One of them brought forward a petition, beautifully written in Nepali script and with a great array of thumbprints and names below, Our liaison officer, with great formality, read it while Doig translated, less formally, for our benefit. We were all impressed by the moderation of, its requests, and by its strong and sincere promise of any help required in the building of a school if the petition were granted. Further, it offered a plot of land free—a generous gesture by a smiling old man at the end of the table. There was a hush as Sir Edmund Hillary rose to reply. In brief sentences he explained that before he could grant their request he would have to get the permission of the Nepalese Government, and then raise the necessary finance. But, he said he had high hopes that both prerequisites could be met, and he would then be very pleased to provide a school for this lovely area—perhaps next year. Glow of Pleasure Broad and delighted grins and chatter of voices. No matter if not for two years, Sir Edmund Hillary was told. Now they had his assurance he would be trying to give them the longed-for school. We left the meal, after being urged to return to Sherpa-land soon, with a glow of pleasure at so eager and sincere a desire for the education of the district’s children.

A monsoon day can deteriorate fast, and heavy rain made the steep descent, to the Junbesi valley wet and slippery. A hundred hungry leeches reached their suckers blindly out, and for the unwary who neglected to haul them off in time spilt a sock full of blood when shoes were removed that evening. But the valley, when reached, made these trials well worth while.

Junbesi valley is a wonderfully productive area. A patchwork of varying greens formed by crops of corn, potatoes, beans, pumpkins, wheat and barley, was delightfully framed by the sombre green of the wooded valley walls. The picture was completed by the white rushing water of the stream.

Junbesi village was ready to welcome us. For several years the village elders have been petitioning the Government to provide them with a school, with no success. Well aware of Sir Edmund Hillary’s educational work iri the Kumba area, they were keen to make use of his night in the village to address a petition to kindlier ears. The village gompa (monastery) opened hospitable doors to our horde, and, in spite of continuing rain, we were soon all cosily bestowed on verandas and in monks’ little rooms around the building. Feast Prepared Basic psychology demands that a petition shall not be presented to an unwined and

Next morning was our last in true Sherpa, cduntry. The 12.000-foot pass we set off to cross led us out into predominantly Nepali areas. V. ithsad hearts, but with the urgings, we walked up through orchid-festooned forest, each inwardly vowing that return we would, come what may. k