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Sherpa dancing

Contributed by: Linda LeBlanc on 8/13/2006

On my first trip to the Everest region, we traveled in a roadless land, constantly climbing and descending rock-strewn trails.Too steep to cultivate, the contoured hillside rose in flat terraces 20 to 30 feet deep with rock retaining walls that looked like dark wrinkles ascending the mountain.Scattered here and there, dry-mortar stone houses perched like birds nesting on the branches of a large leafy tree.

In the evenings, shadows stretched long and thin, and indigo hues deepened as daylight waned over the hills.
Yearning to learn more about the culture of our guide and porters, we asked them to share their music. A young Sherpa with thick black hair and an engaging smile that spread all across his face sat on the ground with his knees bent, supporting a madal drum across his ankles. As he slapped the parchment ends, our barefoot kitchen boy started dancing, joined by J.P. our guide and Nima the cook. Swaying, their arms rising and falling, hands dipping and turning, they moved with a natural fluidity and freedom lost in our western culture.

Sitting with my knees drawn to my chest to keep warm, I was entranced by them and couldn't understand why suddenly the singers beside the drummer began laughing for no apparent reason. The longer he played, the louder they laughed until one fell over backward howling uncontrollably. When I later asked J.P. what it was all about, he explained that Nima had drunk too much chang (locally brewed beer) and wouldn't sit down when the song was over. The drummer and singer had been forced to improvise and made up humorous lyrics about trekkers too weak to carry their own loads and too frightened to cross swaying bridges.

It was then that I fell in love with a people who found such delight in so little. J.P. and I became lifelong friends and built a series of 18 lodges in the Everest region.

Years later when I was leading treks to the Everest Base Camp, I was embarrassed by the fact that Americans could not share the songs of our culture. We tried to think of lyrics that 15 people knew and came up empty. So I made my clients practice the electric slide while in Kathmandu before flying into the landing strip at Lukla. After a brilliant but awkward demonstration, we gave each Sherpa a handkerchief and I spent the next two hours teaching our line dance using music from a mini tape recorder.

When I rose the next morning and watched an amber light flood down the hills and across the village, I discovered the Sherpas teaching this famous American dance to the entire village of Namche Bazaar.

I have written the first fiction about Sherpas entitled Beyond the Summit. I offer slide shows and author signings. See my web site for details.
www.beyondthesummit-novel.com


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CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION

Linda LeBlanc

Westminster , CO

Linda LeBlanc has posted 36 stories and 1 comment since joining on 8/6/2006. Linda LeBlanc 's average story rating is 5.
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