North Face

by Matt Dickinson

  Suddenly Tashi stopped, a new expression of horror passing across her face. We were looking at a messed-up patch of ground. Avalanche debris had reached even this remote spot. There were boulders and piles of ice everywhere.

  ‘They were here,’ Tashi said quietly. ‘I thought they would have been safe … ’

  We stepped towards the small river that was cut in the glacier surface.

  ‘Oh no!’ Tashi ran forward. As I stepped beside her I saw three dark shapes entwined in a macabre embrace at the far end of the stream where it plunged into a hole in the glacier surface. Three yaks. Drowned. Swept into the river by the avalanche.

  Tashi put a hand to her mouth. She stifled a sob.

  I stood there, unsure what I could possibly do to help. I felt terrible for her. Her brother missing on Everest. All three of her yaks killed.

  At that moment a bitter wind sprang up. The air felt bruised and heavy, like a storm was on the way. We retrieved the bag containing Tashi’s belongings from the river. Everything was soaked. Even her sleeping bag and tent were sopping wet.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ I asked her.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. Her worried eyes flashed with determination. ‘But I won’t leave this place while my brother is in danger.’

  I felt an overwhelming sense of sorrow for her. A need to help.

  ‘We can make a shelter,’ I said. ‘But we’d better move fast.’

  We began to scour the area, looking for canvas and tent poles. Within fifteen minutes we had collected a couple of flysheets and a heavy panel of Dacron from the piles of debris.

  ‘A stove!’ Tashi found a small cooker which looked like it might work.

  Using lightweight para cord, we lashed the various bits of flysheet and canvas over four tent poles, creating a ramshackle shelter. There was no groundsheet, but a couple of strategically placed foam mats would protect us from the frozen glacier surface. Tashi fired up the little stove and put a pan of ice on to melt. We held our hands towards the flame, savouring the welcome wave of warmth coming off it.

  ‘When was the last time you ate?’ I asked her.

  She shrugged.

  ‘I had some rice last night.’

  I found a Mars bar in my pack, split it in two and shared it with her. The taste was wonderfully sweet, a comforting burst of sugar.

  ‘You’re shivering,’ she said.

  Luckily I still had my sleeping bag and we soon found Klaus’s bag inside his abandoned pack. We zipped them together to form one giant sleeping sack for the two of us, glad of the shared body warmth against the cold.

  ‘What are your plans now your friend has gone?’ Tashi asked. ‘Will you still try to climb?’

  ‘Climb Everest?’ I had to smile at the idea. ‘In my dreams! I’m just here on a trek. Travelling and taking photographs.’

  I brought Tashi up to speed on the gap-year journey I was making, telling her also about the magical time I had recently had in Nepal, working for a medical charity.

  ‘I should have been home by now,’ I continued. ‘Working on my mum and dad’s farm before going to university. But I extended my trip, had to get a close-up look at Everest.’

  ‘Obsession,’ Tashi said flatly. ‘Like my brother.’

  ‘Definitely,’ I agreed. ‘Plus there is something else.’

  I pulled the shrine bell from my fleece pocket and handed it to Tashi.

  ‘My Nepali friend Kami took this with him when he climbed Everest,’ I told her. ‘He wanted to put it on the summit but never quite made it.’

  Tashi turned the pretty little bell in her hands.

  ‘These items are sacred,’ she said. ‘Powerful. The prayers of generations locked inside them.’

  ‘My friend wants me to get it to Everest summit one day,’ I told her, feeling slightly foolish. ‘Finish the quest.’

  ‘If the gods allow, anything is possible,’ Tashi replied.

  She handed the shrine bell back.

  I thought about Tashi’s brother, caught up there on the highest slopes of Everest. The chances of him still being alive seemed increasingly small.

  ‘How old is Karma?’ I asked her.

  ‘Fifteen.’

  I stared at her in surprise. I had imagined he would be much older.

  ‘Isn’t he a bit young to be climbing Everest?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tashi agreed. I could see she was close to tears.

  She pulled a battered postcard from her pocket. I saw that it was a portrait of the Dalai Lama, the spiritual leader of the Tibetan people. I knew that he had been exiled from Tibet for most of his life, hounded out of the country after the Chinese invaded.

  Tashi mumbled a prayer as she viewed the picture.

  ‘So how come your brother’s up there?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ she said.

  I noticed a dark stain across the photograph. I took it from her and looked at it closely.

  ‘That looks like blood,’ I said. ‘What happened?’

  Tashi sighed, drew out a long, deep breath.

  Then she began to talk.

  Chapter 2

  It was late spring on the plateau of Tibet. Streams were alive with meltwater. Butterflies were making their first tentative forays into the air, miraculously alive after being cocooned through the long Himalayan winter, the deepest and coldest on earth.

  An eagle circled in an electric blue sky. A sky so dark it looked like a splash of deep space had accidentally been mixed in.

  Tashi and her family had just arrived at the windswept grassy plain where the summer festival would be held. Snow-capped mountains glimmered in the distance. Everest was among them, mysterious behind a translucent veil of wispy cloud. Tashi felt a tingle of excitement run up her spine. Hundreds of nomadic families were arriving. The games were set to begin.

  ‘This will be your year,’ her father told her earnestly as they looked out across the lively scene. ‘The white scarf will be yours.’

  Tashi let her imagination soar, wondering if she could win the horse race that she had entered for the following day. It would take all her skill in the saddle, and plenty of courage as well. She had seen the risks such races involved, the broken legs and arms that came with a fall beneath thundering hooves. Occasionally there were fatalities but with luck she would snatch the white scarf from the ground; be the first girl ever to win the trophy.

  Tashi and her father walked through the festival site, enjoying the bustle as the traders set up their stalls. Tantalising aromas filled the air; spicy momo dumplings frying in bubbling oil, sweet rice puddings known as dresil, filled with dried cherries, pecans and pine nuts.

  A green Chinese army truck pulled up nearby.

  ‘Lots of soldiers this year,’ her father commented grimly.

  A line of stern-faced young troops marched past. Tashi heard the crackle of walkie-talkies, the language alien to her. Tibet had been an autonomous region of China for two generations now but relations were strained and the people of this remote plateau still yearned for independence.

  ‘Come to enjoy the show?’ Tashi asked with a wry smile.

  ‘Maybe.’

  Families from all over the plateau were already pitching their tents. A thousand Tibetan nomads would arrive in the next twenty-four hours, each dressed in their finest clothes. Then the festivities would start: archery competitions to decide the finest shot; wrestling for trophies; and the horse races in which Tashi excelled.

  It was a celebration of life in Tibet. A celebration of what it meant to be a nomad on the highest plateau on earth.

  ‘Don’t you think the atmosphere is a bit tense?’ her father said.

  Tashi looked about: it was true that there were large groups of nomad youths hanging around looking restless, eyes darting every so often towards the troops. In the distance Ta
shi saw a convoy of army trucks moving along a dusty highway. They slowed, turning towards the festival field.

  ‘Where’s Karma?’ she asked, suddenly feeling her heartbeat quicken.

  Tashi realised she hadn’t seen her younger brother all day.

  Tashi split from her father and found some friends.

  ‘Have you seen Karma?’

  They shook their heads.

  A truck pulled up right next to them, a contingent of soldiers climbing out, wide-eyed young men, looking as out of place as if they had been dumped on the far side of the moon.

  ‘This means trouble,’ one of Tashi’s friends muttered.

  Tashi felt she was probably right.

  The arrival of military personnel at the festival was no surprise to the young Tibetans. The previous two years had seen a huge increase in the amount of Chinese troops in almost every part of Tibet. Every town, every village, every monastery had soldiers attached, watching the local population with obsessive zeal, intent on sniffing out rebellion or dissent even if it was entirely imaginary.

  The troops were young and ambitious, keen to prove themselves to their superiors. Snooping on the local populace was encouraged, spying almost endemic. Promotion could follow the arrest or detention of a local Tibetan. Tashi and her friends mostly kept their distance.

  Suddenly Tashi saw her brother. He was wrestling two other lads on a patch of wasteland. One of them was a good head taller than Karma but Tashi’s younger brother was fast and strong for his age.

  ‘Karma!’ she shouted. Her brother made a lightning move, picked up the bigger boy as if he was a sack of potatoes.

  ‘Hey!’ she called, louder. Tashi couldn’t help smiling as the fight became critical.

  Karma body-slammed his opponent into the dirt, a thick plume of dust rising up in a cloud. His opponent groaned, conceding defeat with a wave of his hand. Karma walked up to his sister, brushing dust off his clothes as he came.

  ‘Want to try your luck?’ he asked her. ‘Best of three falls?’

  ‘No thanks,’ Tashi replied with a big grin. ‘I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends.’

  At that moment three of the soldiers marched past. Karma winked at his buddies and started to follow them.

  ‘Karma!’ Tashi hissed. She snatched at his arm but he shrugged her off with a laugh.

  He fell in at the back of the stern-faced young conscripts, goose-stepping comically behind them to the delight of his buddies.

  ‘You!’

  The voice bellowed from a nearby jeep. An officer stepped out, dressed in a crisp uniform, three golden stars glinting in the sun.

  Karma froze in his tracks, turning abruptly.

  ‘Captain Chen,’ one of Tashi’s friends muttered. ‘I know him, he’s always looking for trouble.’

  Tashi groaned beneath her breath. Typical Karma, she thought, always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Karma stood there, staring at his feet as the military man strode up.

  ‘You think it’s a good idea to disrespect my soldiers?’ he barked.

  ‘It was just a joke, sir,’ Karma replied.

  ‘A joke? Those are representatives of the People’s Army, here for the protection of us all, guarding the border zone day and night. There are enemies out there. Counter revolutionaries. You think that’s a joke?’

  ‘No sir.’

  ‘Let me see what you have in your pockets,’ Chen ordered.

  Karma’s eyes flitted to Tashi, his cockiness completely gone.

  ‘Come on boy, quickly!’

  Karma reached into his trouser pockets, bringing out some coins and a twist of twine.

  ‘Now that one … ’

  Karma brought out a small silver locket.

  ‘Not carrying drugs I hope?’ He opened the tiny silver box.

  ‘No sir. Just some lucky beads.’

  The army man tossed the small jade beads in his hand. Then he placed them none too carefully back into the silver box and snapped it shut.

  ‘How about your jacket?’ the officer said. ‘What have you got in there?’

  Karma did not move.

  The officer reached out and searched Karma’s top pockets, grunting as he found a small plastic wallet. Tashi held her breath. The man opened the wallet and found a photograph inside.

  Karma went white in the face. Chen plucked the photograph from the wallet and held it right in front of Karma’s nose.

  ‘Who is this?’ he said quietly.

  Tashi felt her heart beating hard against her ribs.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s the Dalai Lama, sir … ’

  ‘You know it is illegal to own a photograph of this so-called holy man?’

  Karma nodded miserably.

  ‘So? What are you doing with it?’

  ‘I was given it, sir. I forgot it was there.’

  ‘You will be punished for this,’ Chen said. ‘Where do you stay?’

  ‘With my f … f … family,’ Karma stammered. He looked across to Tashi and the officer spun round to follow his eyeline.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m his sister.’

  ‘Come here!’ the officer ordered. Tashi walked over.

  ‘Do you also break the law with images of this criminal?’

  Tashi shook her head. ‘No, sir.’

  Chen thought for a few moments. His eyes bored into Karma with terrifying intensity.

  ‘Maybe I should investigate further,’ he said.

  The soldier ordered the brother and sister to take him to the family tent.

  Karma led the way across the festival site to the place where the family were camped. The officer picked up two young soldiers on the way. Tashi wanted to yell a warning to her parents but she knew it would only make things worse.

  A few of the other nomads were watching from nearby. Their mouths fell open when they saw Chen and his guards marching towards them.

  In years gone by the military would never have bothered them at the festival. Just left them in peace. Clearly those days were over.

  ‘This is our place,’ Karma told him nervously.

  The officer pulled aside the felt covering that served as a door and stepped in without announcing himself. Tashi and Karma followed, seeing their parents turn in astonishment as they saw the soldiers standing there. It was extremely discourteous for any visitor to enter without uttering a friendly greeting from outside.

  ‘Karma? What’s happened?’ Tashi’s father scrambled up from the blankets where he had been resting.

  Chen held up the portrait of the Dalai Lama.

  ‘Your son had this in his pocket,’ he told them. ‘Do you have anything to say?’

  Karma hung his head. The only sound in the tent was the bubbling of the rice pot. Tashi felt her spine chilling.

  ‘Perhaps the whole family needs to be investigated,’ Chen proposed. ‘Maybe you are all collaborators of this criminal?’

  Tashi’s father stepped forward, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

  ‘I’m sure this is all an unfortunate misunderstanding,’ he said. ‘The boy must have been given the portrait and forgotten to destroy it.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ the officer countered. ‘The portrait was obviously a treasured possession. I fear your son has been brainwashed by counter revolutionaries.’

  Tashi and her mother exchanged a horrified look. The soldier was trying to make it seem like Karma was some sort of terrorist. Just for carrying a picture of the Dalai Lama. It was so unjust it made Tashi want to weep.

  The man looked around the tent then crossed to the sleeping area. He opened up some storage trunks and poked around amongst the clothes they contained.

  ‘Perhaps you are members of a cell,’ he snapped. ‘Maybe i
n contact with the criminal himself in his Indian headquarters?’

  Then he found the family strongbox.

  ‘Open it,’ he ordered.

  ‘Please … no,’ Tashi protested. ‘Those things are private … ’

  Chen nodded at one of the guards. Tashi was pushed roughly to one side.

  ‘Break the lock,’ Chen commanded.

  The soldier smashed the small padlock with the butt of his gun. It yielded on the third blow, and he flipped open the lid of the trunk. Chen began to rummage through the contents of the trunk, throwing family photographs and small religious figurines on to the blankets.

  ‘You have no right … ’ Tashi’s mother said.

  A small porcelain Buddha broke in two as it tumbled to the floor. The military man poked among the possessions for a while then seemed to bore of it. He walked up to Karma, gripping the young boy’s chin hard in his right hand.

  ‘I never forget a face,’ he said.

  Then he walked out of the tent.

  The long winter months crawled by. Hard for the yaks. Harder still for the family. The incident at the festival was never spoken about but it haunted them all the same; the family had left that very same night, Tashi abandoning her hopes to compete in the races.

  Now it was time to pack up the family possessions. Winter was over and the trek to the summer grazing grounds was about to begin.

  ‘Go and find Karma will you?’ Tashi’s mother asked.

  Her younger brother had made himself scarce as usual when hard work was to be done.

  Tashi found him by the lake, messing about on a battered old motorbike belonging to some friends.

  ‘Come on!’ she goaded him. ‘Mother will go nuts if you don’t come and help.’

  A mixture of threats and persuasion dragged Karma back to the family tent and the process of loading up the yaks began.

  Cooking utensils and fodder, blankets and fence posts, coils of rope, blocks of salt, the hundreds of simple items that make up the world of a nomadic family. A family that considers the plateau their spiritual home. A family that lives beneath the stars and adapts with the ever-changing seasons so that it is perfectly in tune with the land.