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Wednesday,
17th March, 2004
My
morning in Mahabir was memorable. I awoke this morning to find a
small crowd of locals waiting for me outside the front of my tent:
it was only 6.00am. It was most disconcerting.
Once
I had asked them to give me a few minutes peace, I managed to change
and have a quick wash, but they were back, as well-meaning as ever.
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| Girls
and boys wish me Namaste as they wait for school to start. |
It
was the first time I had put my socks and boots on, eaten my breakfast,
stuffed my sleeping bag away and cleaned my teeth with an audience.
I was beginning to know how David Blane must have felt.
Before
leaving I was presented with a mala from a welfare pensioner widow.
I was deeply touched although my thanks seemed pretty inadequate.
I knew she had probably been busy making the garland the night before.
At
that point I left with my porters. We had a small party join us
as we climbed up and away. I even had a young 19 year old lad carry
my pack for me. It was only after a few minutes that I realised
that Arjun (the young lad) was going to carry the pack all the way
to our next stop, seven hours away. I tried weakly to dissuade him
but he was insistent. I wasn't going to argue.
Our
destination was Nagi, a small rural village spread across two hillsides
in which a welfare pensioner lived. Manu Pun was on my list and
I was determined to find him. At 3.00pm Arjun excused himself and
asked me to visit his village again. I was humbled. He still had
to get home before nightfall.
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| Manu
Pun shares military stories over a whisky with me. |
In
fact I easily found my man and we ended up sharing a cup of whisky
while he recalled tales of military tourism during the Second World
War in Africa and the Middle East.
He
was fascinating, even though I didn't understand all his words,
as a soldier, I knew what he was saying.
That
night we camped next to the main track outside the village. It was
the most exposed spot we had used all trek and I was nervous of
attracting unwanted attention. I spent much of the night half awake,
waiting for someone to kick us out of our tents.
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