Start of Our Trek! April 2-6, 2017
Laurie Kelley
April 16, 2017
Sunday April 2, 2017
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| Jess and Chris Bombardier |
“Do not imagine that the journey is short; and one must have the heart of a lion to follow this unusual road, for it is very long… one plods along in a state of amazement, sometimes smiling, sometimes weeping.” Farid ud-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds: A Sufi Fable
The climb begins! I’m accompanying Chris Bombardier of Denver to Everest Base Camp, where Chris will stay till end of May in the attempt to be the first person with hemophilia to summit Mt. Everest! (www.bombardierblood.com)
Day 1 of our base camp trek started at the Yak and Yeti Hotel in Kathmandu at 4:15 am. I was up, packed and ready to roll by 4:45 am. Ryan Waters, the team’s mountaineer guide, and lead Sherpa Tashi loaded everything into the bus and we were all off to the airport: me, Chris and Jess Bombardier, cameraman Rob Bradford and seven other climbers.
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| Laurie Kelley in Lukla |
The sky was dark, the streets of Kathmandu empty. Security was easy. The flight to Lukla was only 45 minutes; this is the famous airport with about the shortest runway in the world! The flight got extremely turbulent at one point. We disembarked at Lukla and it was stunning. 9,000 feet high with soaring snow-capped peaks surrounding it. My first impression were all the faces of the young Nepalese men, hoping to be chosen as porters, peering at us eagerly through the mesh-wire fence at the perimeter of the tiny airport. It was only 7 am . We walked up the steps and met Lukla.
Lukla is a village, teeming with small shops on cobblestone streets, displaying everything you need to trek. Mixed breed mountain dogs lounged on doorsteps in the sunshine, women set up their wares outside their shops. There was an abundance of restaurants and hotels. It was thriving. We all gathered upstairs at a restaurant for breakfast and tea. I had hot muesli—delicious, and “milk tea,” which is creamy and thick.
We walked about town while waiting for Rob’s luggage to arrive. I bought a used fleece buff, which I needed later. We visited a monastery there, which was amazingly beautiful. We also strode up to a stupa, to see the fluttering prayer flags with the Himalaya as a backdrop. The name Himalaya means home (alya) of snow (hima).
At last the lost luggage arrived and we started hiking. We walked a whole 15 minutes before we had to stop at the Everest Forest Gate to get permits. A small yak stood waiting. The sun was getting stronger already and soon we were sweating. We went downhill and much of the trail reminded me of those in New Hampshire. It was very rocky and uneven, tricky to navigate. The trail led to a huge valley with a river that ran with silvery turquoise water. Porters dodged us as they hurried by with huge loads, secured by plastic band across their foreheads. Some only wore flip flops on these rugged trails.
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| Everest National Park |
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| Chris and Ryan watch the yak caravan |
We hiked for a little over an hour, passing little villages with shops and “mani stones,” huge black rocks with the mantra Om Mani Padme Hum (“Hail to the jewel in the lotus”) carved into the stone and painted white. We stopped for lunch at a wonderful outdoor restaurant in the heart of hills.
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| Mani Stones: “Om Mani Padme Hum” |
We set out again at 2 pm, over long, metal suspension bridges that sway over deep gorges. Lacing them were prayer flags in the colors of the world: blue for sky; white for air; green for water; yellow for earth; red for fire. Down rocky courses, up hills, always hiking to the left of the stupas or mani stones, the clockwise direction in which the earth and the universe revolve, according to Buddhist doctrine. We were warned about the many yak caravans. They stop for nothing. When you hear the cowbells jangling on the necks of the yaks, you must step aside, preferably against the stones or hill, and not near the edge of a trail, where you might get pushed off!
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| Laurie Kelley and Chris Bombardier on a suspension bridge |
There is so much traffic on the trail; it’s not at all what I expected. We pass through village after village. A writhing fence made of thorn vines borders one trail. Above crows caw loudly like old men with a joke: ha HA!
I climb one steep section and am winded! At 3:30 pm we reach our first tea house, quiet though rustic. My room is upstairs, four walls, a green rug, a little table and two little beds. I have a view of a beautiful mountain. It’s cold; I’m sweaty. There’s one communal bathroom for the whole floor. And… I have severe heartburn.
Tuesday April 4, 2017
We had climbed 2,000 feet yesterday, which took us about 5 hours, the longest day of the trek. After arriving at the tea house, I changed clothes to keep warm. The dining room has little tables around the perimeter, all wood but very cold. All I ate was porridge for dinner, not feeling hungry. As soon as I was done I went to bed.
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| Dodh Kosi River |
We were up early in the frigid air. I was shaking as I got out of my warm sleeping bag. The hike today was not hard but so crowded! You actually were rubbing shoulders with other people along the trail, trying to avoid the powerful yaks as they passed. The scenery was beautiful. Soaring mountains, snow-capped, rising above the pine trees. The rushing Dodh Kosi river is the color of sea-glass. We became sweaty hot when we stepped into the sunshine but as soon as we hit shade it became chilly. The well-defined trail rambled up and down, mostly up, then down a dirt path as we strolled through another village. Sometimes you even had to wait in line to ascend an area!
We stopped for lunch this day at a small, touristy restaurant, and a border collie collapsed at my feet. I offered it rice but it wasn’t interested–village dogs are that well fed. I had a hearty lunch of rice and sauce. The sun was searing!
We headed out again and passed through pastoral scenes: stone cottages, cabbage fields, women hoeing. Everywhere prayer flags fluttered. At some point I lost the group and just hiked amidst all the other tourists of different nationalities. We did come to a huge suspension bridge, the one portrayed in the movie Everest. It’s over a 200 foot gorge with the crashing Dodh Kosi river below. It buckled and swayed under us, making us feel like we were in a funhouse.
I breathed heavily and took it slow; my lower back started aching. Maybe I overloaded my backpack? Even Chris took my jacket to spare me some weight. Pasan, one of our sherpas, offered to carry my pack finally. Bless him! Now he was carrying about 50 lbs. in weight while I had none. And still I struggled. Yaks walked ahead of us, blocking the trail and mercifully slowing us down.
After an hour we made it to Namche Bazar, a famous stop over for trekkers. I could only think about crawling into bed. Chris made me feel better by saying that the group only had arrived 10 minutes ahead of me, but it felt like an hour.
My small room had three cots, and… a private bathroom and shower! And hot water. It was 4 pm and I laid down and drifted in and out of sleep. I didn’t realize it but I was being slowly overtaken by food poisoning.
Tashi and Pasan later look in on me, and brought me garlic soup, which they claimed was good for me, thinking I had altitude sickness. But nothing smelled or tasted good. Even water didn’t appeal to me. Ryan came in to check on me and I was bundled in bed, up to my chin, drained. I took two sips of water and immediately vomited. Everything passed through me till there was nothing left, all night long. It was a miserable, long night. The attacks came so violently. I started thinking dismal thoughts: I’m weak, I can’t even master 11,000 feet! I have to give up trekking. Chris will never want to climb with me again.
In the morning, I don’t ever remember feeling so dehydrated. It’s a panicky feeling. I only wanted a tangerine or apple; so Tashi found some for me, and I gingerly ate them. Ryan gave me an anti-nausea pill which did the trick. Finally I could drink water and keep it down. Nothing ever tasted as good as that tangerine.
I rested all morning in bed. Later, I joined our climbers for lunch, where I only managed one piece of toast and tea. Even the short walk up the stairs to my room tired me out. It was luxurious to lay on a cot, two piles of fleece blankets on me. By evening, Ryan came to visit again, and we talked options. The best one was for me to stay in Namche an extra day and catch up with the group in two days, on Friday (their rest day). I would have one Sherpa with me. I felt badly being the weak link, then learned also that Rob had been ill as well.
Wednesday April 5, 2017
I felt so much better when I awoke at 7 am. I said my goodbyes to the group, and Tashi hugged me good-bye as they all left. Back in the room, the last thing I wanted was to crawl back into bed. That was a good sign. And after two hours I was hungry again. I showered with steaming hot, solar-heated water, for a last shower in who knows how long.
The Nepalese all want me to stay warm. Put on a hat. Drink garlic soup. Have tea. Such lovely people: quiet, respectful, kind. You never observe loud, brash, self-important behavior.
3:44 pm. We’re back from our little trek up to the Sherpa museum. The walk was hard at first. Slow, slow, step by step. I had to get my breathing right; my quads burned. The stone steps up to the museum are ragged and well traversed, decorated with yak dung the whole way up. Lhakpa, my personal sherpa, is so thoughtful. He took my camera, my coat and hat, whatever I didn’t need. He dropped my hat accidentally, then retrieved it and meticulously dusted it off. The vista at the top of the hill was obscured by clouds but at least I saw the statue of Tenzing Norgay, the first person known to summit Mt. Everest, along with Sir Edmund Hillary.
Thursday April 6, 2017
Last night in Namche. I went to bed at 8:30 pm after a brief dinner I had no heart for. Just half a bowl of vegetable soup, an egg, a slice of apple and potato slices. Although we are still in Namche, I had to have my room moved, as I was not supposed to be here last night. My new room was tiny, ground floor, in a poorly made shed-like abode. The walls are paper thin and I could actually here every sound, even breathing, of people next door. I read for a while, tried to sleep, but it’s too noisy. My heart seemed to be pounding in my chest from the altitude. I slept from 11 pm to 1 am, then the village dogs started their infernal barking, up to three bouts an hour. I was up for good at 5 am.
I felt better today despite all. I sat outside in the sunshine, waiting for Lhakpa, watching the comings and goings. Finally we stepped out. Lhakpa had to carry his backpack and my rucksack. He’s only 29 and couldn’t weight more than 130 lbs. This was a huge load to carry. But if I struggled with my jacket, he was there to help.
Then we started, straight up the steps at a 45° angle. I was already winded and we had barely started! I felt like an old car that tries to turn over on a cold morning, and after a few tries, gets started but needs time to warm up. Yaks passed, cow bells jangling. It was a sky-blue day and the Khumba valley opened below us to an incredible vista. This trek would take us to the Tenbouche monastery and eventually Dingbouche. We walked at a slow pace, no rush.
There were long sections of uphill climbs, through pine trees. We slogged away, step by step. I’d pause to breathe and let porters hike by. It’s amazing how much the porters carry. One porter carried enormous slabs of plywood, four sheets at about 8′ by 4′, and he all of 5′ tall. Another old porter carried a washing machine box on his back, and a rucksack, and another box. It was three times his size.
Eventually we came to a clearing where I saw my first glimpse of Mt. Everest! Stunning! Clouds fluttered and streamed from its peak like the numerous prayer flags we saw. The mountains defy description. Brown barren rock mountains in the foreground, seemingly strategically placed to lead the eye to distant Everest, so coldly beautifully.
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| Prayer wheels |
Downhill, uphill. The trail was edged by juniper and other conifer trees. I plodded at a yak pace. Except that yaks passed me! The yaks are enormous, shaggy-furred cattle creatures with huge horns. After lunch we clacked over the metal suspension bridge with spectacular views on either side. Even coming off the bridge, going slightly uphill, my quads burned. We saw prayer wheels that turned eternally, hydropowered by the river below it; as they spin they send their prayers off to heaven.
There was a lot of uphill trekking and honestly we all struggled. Sherpas, porters, women, men, young, old, Japanese, Hungarian, Spanish… we all moved like in slow motion. The sun seared us, but the mountains called us.
Lots of dusty switchbacks, up and up. Occasionally a yak plodded down, bareback, its load deposited at base camp. I was so slow I separated from everyone, including my Sherpa. Finally, around 3 pm, we reached the Tenbouche Monastery, at 12,687 feet, founded in 1923.
Lhakpa was no where to be seen. So I waited in the shade, and gazed at the amazing, peaceful monastery. I was amused to see the shaved-head monks walking about in their crimson robes, with Nike sneakers on. I went inside the monastery, removing my dirty hiking boots. Outside, the most peaceful of scenes: grass, stupas, three beautiful horses grazing until three rowdy dogs chased them. A helicopter landed, sending a yak scurrying, depositing a trekker. Fluttering prayer flags provided bursts of color everywhere. Inside, a sole monk chanted prayers, fingering his beads, while trekkers like me sat quietly around the perimeter on mats, waiting. The room was brightly painted with scenes of Buddha.
Back outside, I found Lhakpa. This was not our final destination, so we kept walking, another 15-20 minutes to Dibouche, passing a well-defined and treacherously rocky route, lined by deciduous trees, Finally our tea house, “Rivendell,” named after the Lord of the Rings home of the elves. I saw a big room, private bath. We would give it a one-star, but to me it could not be more four-star! Hot water… simple pleasures. I was deliriously happy!
(Read part 2 next week!)
Searching for a Stone and Unexpected Luck
Laurie Kelley
April 9, 2017
Thursday
March 30, 2017
This was easily our best day in Nepal, packedwith adventure, home visits and a deep appreciation of Nepal, its people and
the Nepal Hemophilia Society. Manil showed up with two vans: the production
team of Believe Ltd—Patrick James Lynch (director), David Beede (sound), Josh
Bragg (video) and Rob Bradford (photography)—pile onto one van, but first, they
tape a GoPro to the front of the van to capture the frantic, physics-defying
Kathmandu traffic. Chris, Jess, Manil and I get into the other van and off we
go. We leave the capital area and venture into the countryside, where the urban
concrete jungle turns to trees and farms, cattle and hay. We’re on our way to
see Bibesh, a 19-year-old with hemophilia and a beneficiary of Save One Life. It
rained last night and while creeping uphill on a dirt road, our van gets stuck
in a muddy washout. The production vans zips by while the guys laugh at us and
disappear around a hill. We all have to get out. We grab our bags and the bags
with gifts and start to walk. Around the hill? The production van, also stuck.
Manil tells us it’s about a half hour walk to
Bibesh’s home. The guys are carrying in total about 130 pounds of equipment:
cameras, batteries, cases, microphones. Josh props his enormous video camera on
his shoulder practically the entire walk. As we walk, the Believe crew
interview Chris and Mani. Jess and I hang together as we walk. The road is
thick with mud, and luckily we are all wearing our hiking boots. But it’s
pleasant: the air is moist and refreshing, and the view is stunning. Tilled,
green hills, brick cottages, cows. The valley stretches before us, decorated
with trees and crops. Somewhere far away we can hear music, and strangely, a
cuckoo!
Now we walk down a hill, slipping in the mud.
It’s here that Mani tells us he will need to wait while we go on. He is
limping, and his arm is in a sling. I’m sure he must feel pain but he doesn’t
complain. After we slip down the hill, we stroll out
into a huge green field, following a trail. We’re in the middle of nowhere it
seems as the village we just went through recedes. Down the trail, we have to
cross a stream, and the only means is to balance on a plank. Yes, a plank!
Patrick goes first, then me, then Jess, who clowns around. Then up a hill, very
steep, and it leaves us huffing and sweating. We come to a cottage, but it’s
not Bibesh’s so on we go. It’s getting to be surreal, that this young man has
to overcome roots, vines, mud, hills and a very long walk, just to get to a
bus, that would then take him another hour to get to the hospital to treat a
bleed. And none of them complain, or curse their fate. Ever. They hope—hope
that we can help them, and they ask. But they don’t demand, argue or get
vengeful.
It’s here that Mani tells us he will need to wait while we go on. He is
limping, and his arm is in a sling. I’m sure he must feel pain but he doesn’t
complain. After we slip down the hill, we stroll out
into a huge green field, following a trail. We’re in the middle of nowhere it
seems as the village we just went through recedes. Down the trail, we have to
cross a stream, and the only means is to balance on a plank. Yes, a plank!
Patrick goes first, then me, then Jess, who clowns around. Then up a hill, very
steep, and it leaves us huffing and sweating. We come to a cottage, but it’s
not Bibesh’s so on we go. It’s getting to be surreal, that this young man has
to overcome roots, vines, mud, hills and a very long walk, just to get to a
bus, that would then take him another hour to get to the hospital to treat a
bleed. And none of them complain, or curse their fate. Ever. They hope—hope
that we can help them, and they ask. But they don’t demand, argue or get
vengeful.
At last we reach Bibesh’s home, high on the
hill. It’s made of brick, but has obvious cracks in it from the earthquake. The
porch is propped up with poles. All around is dusty earth. In fact, they don’t
live in the house but live in a shed, and are building another home up another
hill. The guys get their cameras and sound gear ready. Bibesh is 19, and
actually just had a birthday yesterday. His mother Uma is present, and his
81-year-old grandmother, Bed Kumari, who is as frail as a little sparrow, with
deep set eyes, skin the texture of leather, with many deep creases. Her face is
remarkable, and I photograph her. The lines are like chapters in a book, and
she has a long, amazing story to tell, if only she could. We have a shocking
moment when the great-grandmother appears! She’s a bit wild, with grizzly hair,
missing teeth, rail-thin body, and darting eyes. She speaks in Nepalese very
loudly, and the family motions that she’s hard of hearing. We all get a kick
out of her.
The family is very poor. The father works in
a shop, and earns about $180 a month. The sponsorship he gets through Save One
Life is $24, so it definitely helps. They own their home, which is good, but it
is in bad shape now.
a shop, and earns about $180 a month. The sponsorship he gets through Save One
Life is $24, so it definitely helps. They own their home, which is good, but it
is in bad shape now.
Bibesh himself is a handsome young man, welldressed and soft-spoken. He speaks English pretty well. He gives us a tour of
the property. We go inside the condemned house, which is more narrow inside
than it looks. We have to duck; the stairs are creaky and threaten to give out.
It’s dusty and damp, with a concrete floor, no screens in the windows. Chris
goes upstairs where the bedrooms are, and Bibesh shows us how the main beams in
the house split under the stress of the quake. Cracks appeared in many of the
bricks too. Outside, we take a short trip up the hill some more and see the new
house under construction. While they use bricks, the mortar seems inadequate to
keep the bricks together. The family is proud to show us a beautiful brick
temple they are also building.
The mother kindly brings out refreshments,
and as I take one with my hand I burn it—ouch, I shout! Hot tea!
and as I take one with my hand I burn it—ouch, I shout! Hot tea!
Later, I sit near the grandmother, who
watches me, and we hug and she nestles into my arms. She is so thin—you can
feel all her spine and shoulder bones. Such a lovely old woman. I wonder what
she makes of all this: cameras, strangers, interviews.
watches me, and we hug and she nestles into my arms. She is so thin—you can
feel all her spine and shoulder bones. Such a lovely old woman. I wonder what
she makes of all this: cameras, strangers, interviews.
When we leave, Josh gets the drone ready to
take aerial photography. It sounds like a huge bee buzzing overhead. Going down
the hill proves to be just as challenging as going up. We slip and slide our
way down the hill, back to the stream. Chris and Bibesh chat as they descend,
with Josh filming.
Manil waits for us by the roadside; on to the
next home!
It’s a one hour ride to see Om Krishna, a
17-year-old. We stare out the window and see miles and miles of concrete
bricks. Made right from the mud, the bricks are formed, stacked and then
carried on the backs of men, to make long walls of stacked bricks to be sold.
Beyond the brick-making farms, we approach OmKrishna’s town. The neighborhood is pretty, with some big homes. Om Krishna’s
home is also big, but uninhabitable—earthquake. The family moved from it into a
shed, something we would use to store gardening tools. It really seems wrong
that they should be living there, especially so long after the quake. Not only
does the whole family turn out but the whole neighborhood! Children spring from
nowhere and smile shyly and hide behind adults. Patrick and team waste no time but get right
to work setting up the equipment and proper places to film.
While they interview, I hang out with the
adorable little cousins. Jess and I brought school supplies from Colorado, and
puzzles and punching balls donated from the New England Hemophilia Association.
These were all big hits! Om Krishna is a handsome young man, who speaks English
almost perfectly. He’s a good student. He confides in me after the interview
that he worries about continuing school, as his father is a driver and doesn’t
earn much.
adorable little cousins. Jess and I brought school supplies from Colorado, and
puzzles and punching balls donated from the New England Hemophilia Association.
These were all big hits! Om Krishna is a handsome young man, who speaks English
almost perfectly. He’s a good student. He confides in me after the interview
that he worries about continuing school, as his father is a driver and doesn’t
earn much.
One thing Om Krishna is rich in is family.
It’s obvious he is surrounded by love: a beautiful, elegant mother, who,
despite their struggling status, walks with dignity and grace, her sari gently
flowing. She beams at her son. So does the grandmother, with a face etched with
years but with a warm smile for this special young man.
Sadly, Om Krishna’s little brother died of an
untreated gastrointestinal bleed. He still has a hard time talking about it.
This is difficult in some cultures. When you have one child with a disability,
it’s considered unfortunate. Two? That’s a curse. The family could risk being
ostracized from the neighbors for something like this.
After our visit and interview we pile back
into the vans and head to the last house of the day: the Rajbchak
family. After another hour long drive (poor Jess kept feeling car sick), we
arrived, and pulled up alongside a roadside shop I know well. Behind the front
counter was Jagatman (age 26), a Save One Life success story. Jagatman owns
his own mobile repair shop, after receiving training funded by Save One Life,
and then a microenterprise grant.
into the vans and head to the last house of the day: the Rajbchak
family. After another hour long drive (poor Jess kept feeling car sick), we
arrived, and pulled up alongside a roadside shop I know well. Behind the front
counter was Jagatman (age 26), a Save One Life success story. Jagatman owns
his own mobile repair shop, after receiving training funded by Save One Life,
and then a microenterprise grant.
When I stepped out of the van and up to his shop, he smiled broadly
and we both said namaste. He looks great! Confident, strong, which is
remarkable as he has an artificial leg, also a gift from Project SHARE. The
shop is perched at a cross roads and has an open front that displays watches,
toys, picture frames and candy. Soon his brother Jagatlal, who goes by the
nickname “Monsoon,” appeared. We hugged each other (after all, we are friends on Facebook now). Monsoon speaks English fluently and translated for us.
Again, Patrick and the Believe team got right to work and right there, in the
middle of the street, after pulling up chairs, began interviewing Jagatman. A
crowd gathered. Patrick asks excellent questions and gently guided Jagatman and
Monsoon through what is it like to have hemophilia in a developing country.
Because the shop is in a prime place, a bus stop, there was all kinds
of noises emanating from the street: motorbikes, cars and a really loud three
wheeled motorcycle that had metal pipes on it that obviously rattled and banged
each other while it took the corner near the shop. Patrick almost packed it in
then!
of noises emanating from the street: motorbikes, cars and a really loud three
wheeled motorcycle that had metal pipes on it that obviously rattled and banged
each other while it took the corner near the shop. Patrick almost packed it in
then!
After the interview, we walked down the streets, with Josh, Rob and
Dave filming. Somewhere electronic music from a dance club was playing, so
loud! It’s a wonder they could even film.
Dave filming. Somewhere electronic music from a dance club was playing, so
loud! It’s a wonder they could even film.
The boys’ house was completely destroyed in the quake. It’s now just a
pile of bricks. The family lives across the street in a shed as well, much
bigger than the others I saw. Outside the entrance of the shed, the boys’
mother waits, ready to offer us hot tea. So nice! We filmed it all and finally
had to call it a night. It was pitch black now, and we still had an hour ride
ahead to get back to the Shanker Hotel.
pile of bricks. The family lives across the street in a shed as well, much
bigger than the others I saw. Outside the entrance of the shed, the boys’
mother waits, ready to offer us hot tea. So nice! We filmed it all and finally
had to call it a night. It was pitch black now, and we still had an hour ride
ahead to get back to the Shanker Hotel.
Going back to the street corner
store, we said goodbye to Jagatman. The boys’ father bought a fresh yogurt
drink from the store next door. It was refreshingly delicious. The Nepalese hospitality
and civility never fail to amaze me. Here’s a family with two boys with
hemophilia, one who lost his leg, and a family that lost it’s entire house, and
they are buying us yogurt drinks!
We are
thoroughly exhausted when we drive back. Jess is the first to fall asleep in
the van, then Chris. It’s emotionally draining to visit, view and hear the
stories of loss, and wonder how these families find the faith, will and
reserves to continue.
thoroughly exhausted when we drive back. Jess is the first to fall asleep in
the van, then Chris. It’s emotionally draining to visit, view and hear the
stories of loss, and wonder how these families find the faith, will and
reserves to continue.
But I got
one piece of good news that day: the 4 million IU donation of factor just got an
upgrade. 5 million IU, the largest single donation in Nepal’s history. Thank you
Octapharma. Just made my night.
one piece of good news that day: the 4 million IU donation of factor just got an
upgrade. 5 million IU, the largest single donation in Nepal’s history. Thank you
Octapharma. Just made my night.
“To find god while searching for a stone.” This Nepalese proverb is used to describe unexpected luck.
Aim to Fly and Touch the Moon
Laurie Kelley
April 2, 2017
Udeshya ke linu, udi chhunu chandra ek. Aim to fly and touch the moon together.Nepalese proverb
I’m back in
Kathmandu, Nepal after 18 months, and still there are so many signs of the massive earthquake that rattled the country on April 25, 2015.
The
air quality remains poor: my throat feels raw and my eyes water. Our team wears filter
masks strapped to our faces, to protect our lungs. The city at night pulsates like a
living being: through the streets motorbikes, cars, rickshaws, trucks flow,
belching out waste, laced overhead by a gnarly grey network of telephone wires
and cables at each street corner.
Kathmandu, Nepal after 18 months, and still there are so many signs of the massive earthquake that rattled the country on April 25, 2015.
The
air quality remains poor: my throat feels raw and my eyes water. Our team wears filter
masks strapped to our faces, to protect our lungs. The city at night pulsates like a
living being: through the streets motorbikes, cars, rickshaws, trucks flow,
belching out waste, laced overhead by a gnarly grey network of telephone wires
and cables at each street corner.
I’m here with the crew from Believe Ltd, who will be filming hemophilia B patient Chris Bombardier as he meets with the Save One Life program partner, the Nepal Hemophilia Society (NHS), and patients, and prepares for his Everest attempt. Chris’s wife Jessica accompanied him and will trek with us to base camp. She and I will stay two nights, then come back to Kathmandu while Chris stays another month, acclimating for the big climb. Should Chris summit, he will be the first person in history with hemophilia to conquer Everest. Withall the camera equipment, and Rob Bradford (photography), Jess, Chris and I in another, so Rob can
film. I enjoy their wide-eyed first look at Nepal with all its helter-skelter traffic
and humanity.
First stop today, Tuesday, March 28, is the Bir Hospital, where I’ve been three timespreviously. I first came to Nepal in 1999 for an assessment visit, then returned in 2000, when my company funded a medical conference. I was so impressed with the NHS then. And more so now. The NHS became our second program partner for Save One Life solely based on their ability to get the job done right, and fast. They are a crackerjack team and work hard to help their patients.
It’s different
traveling with a film crew this time. I’m used to moving fast and ducking in and out. But
with about 200 pounds of camera and sound equipment, we have to move carefully
and cautiously. The hospital is still in disarray following the earthquake. It’s dark and uninviting. But the hemophilia treatment ward is brightly lit,
clean and orderly. No patients are there at first, and while the crew films,
we chat with the two lovely nurses.
traveling with a film crew this time. I’m used to moving fast and ducking in and out. But
with about 200 pounds of camera and sound equipment, we have to move carefully
and cautiously. The hospital is still in disarray following the earthquake. It’s dark and uninviting. But the hemophilia treatment ward is brightly lit,
clean and orderly. No patients are there at first, and while the crew films,
we chat with the two lovely nurses.
I learn there are 573 registered patients out of an estimated 2,500.
A high number registered! About 200 make regular visits to the HTC, also a
high number. The center is now open 24 hours a day, which is excellent. They have a small
fridge, under lock and key, for factor. Inside is the Biogen/WFH donation of
Alprolix and Eloctate. This donation is absolutely revolutionizing care,
because it provides consistent product availability, which allows for planning, which leads to a
changed mindset. (I will write more about this in the August issue of PEN).
A high number registered! About 200 make regular visits to the HTC, also a
high number. The center is now open 24 hours a day, which is excellent. They have a small
fridge, under lock and key, for factor. Inside is the Biogen/WFH donation of
Alprolix and Eloctate. This donation is absolutely revolutionizing care,
because it provides consistent product availability, which allows for planning, which leads to a
changed mindset. (I will write more about this in the August issue of PEN).
The nurses slipped silk scarves about our necks and greeted us with“Namste!” as we each entered. The ward was upgraded! Freshly painted, with new
offices for factor storage and for the nurses’ office; it looks excellent. A freezer held
fresh-frozen plasma, something you never see in the US; this is for patients
with rarer factor deficiencies, or for when there is no factor.
Then a patient walked in: 18-year-old Bibek, a handsome, tall young man,
slender, with an apparent elbow bleed. Despite what must be searing pain, he
smiled broadly, was calm and accepting, gracious. It’s how the Nepalese are:
deeply ingrained in each seems to be a gentle approach to life, respect for
all, and profound civility. They have much to teach the world about how to get
along with others.
We chatted with him and learned he had to travel 3 hours to reach theHTC for one injection of 1,000 IU, not even enough for his lanky frame. And the
elbow bleed started the day before. He didn’t put ice on it because there is
none where he lives. Still he smiles; his face is placid and open, inviting.
His English is excellent.
Patrick asks us to redo the entire visit for the documentary! We have to regroup in the
hallway, then enter again, replay every conversation and act. We joke it’s
Bollywood and we should sing and dance our way in. Think the ending of Slumdog Millionaire! So we comply and redo the entire entry, greeting,
conversation. I ask them to include the photo of the mom who died in the
earthquake, while she was assisting in blood donations. She’s a true hero.
hallway, then enter again, replay every conversation and act. We joke it’s
Bollywood and we should sing and dance our way in. Think the ending of Slumdog Millionaire! So we comply and redo the entire entry, greeting,
conversation. I ask them to include the photo of the mom who died in the
earthquake, while she was assisting in blood donations. She’s a true hero.
I chat with another young man there, who I had met in 2015:
Ashrit. I regret that I didn’t recognize him at first. We chatted, and he
lifted his leather jacket sleeve to reveal a clawed hand: Volkman’s
contracture. Repeated bleeds for four years have left his left hand useless,
and in a permanent grasp. The saddest part is that he loves to play guitar. I
ask who his favorite guitar player is and he rattles off a long list: Jimmy
Page, Angus Young, Jimi Hendrix… “Slash?” I ask. Oh yes! He’s amazing! So we
share stories of guitar players and music, and he knows how to play Sweet Child
O’ Mine (one of my favorites). He even learned to play with one hand and had Jess and me listen to a
recording on his phone. It’s beautiful. He has talent. He also shows artwork, a
pencil sketch of a child, which is beautiful and haunting.
Ashrit. I regret that I didn’t recognize him at first. We chatted, and he
lifted his leather jacket sleeve to reveal a clawed hand: Volkman’s
contracture. Repeated bleeds for four years have left his left hand useless,
and in a permanent grasp. The saddest part is that he loves to play guitar. I
ask who his favorite guitar player is and he rattles off a long list: Jimmy
Page, Angus Young, Jimi Hendrix… “Slash?” I ask. Oh yes! He’s amazing! So we
share stories of guitar players and music, and he knows how to play Sweet Child
O’ Mine (one of my favorites). He even learned to play with one hand and had Jess and me listen to a
recording on his phone. It’s beautiful. He has talent. He also shows artwork, a
pencil sketch of a child, which is beautiful and haunting.
To lighten the conversation, I ask (on camera) do you… ride a
motorcycle? And I picked at his leather jacket. He started laughing, and I said
I know you Nepalese boys and your motorbikes! He said he used to but not any
longer. Such a sweetheart. He needs surgery. The
main problem? He has an inhibitor. Life has dealt this young man a double blow
but still he smiles and has dreams. I want to help him get surgery.
motorcycle? And I picked at his leather jacket. He started laughing, and I said
I know you Nepalese boys and your motorbikes! He said he used to but not any
longer. Such a sweetheart. He needs surgery. The
main problem? He has an inhibitor. Life has dealt this young man a double blow
but still he smiles and has dreams. I want to help him get surgery.
Afterthe Bir Hospital we drove to the Nepal Hemophilia Society office, in the
residential district. Some wiry teens were playing cricket in the street; birds
chirped, the sky was overcast and the air cool. Inside was crowded. They had
built out the office, including a new cold room, to store the donations from
Biogen; this means they could easily handle our proposed 4 million IU donation.
Manil Shrestha (also a patient) and his team are doing a great job. We asked questions, Believe Ltd. filmed… all good material for the documentary.
Mani suggests we go to “KFC,” which
we all think means Kentucky Fried Chicken. We scuffed across the dusty street,
to the main street, with cars, motorbikes and trucks bulleting past us. It’s
very dangerous to cross. Up the high curb (we have to help one another) and
into KFC: Kwik Food Café. I’ve eaten here before. The bathroom sported a squat
toilet, which is actually hard for patients with hemophilia to use–just think about it. Nepalese food is excellent and we down dumplings (called momo),
French fries, noodles, vegetables and Cokes. The talk is happy and light, and
everyone has a good time.
On the way back I witnessed a tender moment seeing Patrickchat with Beda Raj, a board member and also patient, and hold hands, which is the custom here among close male friends. Patrick is a rising star in our community: driven, ambitious, articulate, with a kind heart and compassionate soul. He
lost his 18-year-old brother Adam and it has impacted him greatly. Afterward,
we head for the Shanker hotel, and have dinner together at 7 pm. Everyone has Everest
beer and I have wine, and we share stories from the day.
Wednesday
March 29, 2017
March 29, 2017
Today was filming at the temple day.
It was rainy, which was disappointing, but then the air was remarkably cleaner
and easier to inhale. We start our day in the dining room together, and I enjoy
a breakfast of eggs, croissants, muselix (delicious), fresh watermelon and
mango, and steamy masala tea. Everyone is obsessed with their photos and we compare them.
It was rainy, which was disappointing, but then the air was remarkably cleaner
and easier to inhale. We start our day in the dining room together, and I enjoy
a breakfast of eggs, croissants, muselix (delicious), fresh watermelon and
mango, and steamy masala tea. Everyone is obsessed with their photos and we compare them.
Then off to Swayambhu, the “Monkey Temple,” close
by. We draw a crowd because of all the camera equipment. The focus is entirely on Chris; making a pilgrimage to this most famous of temples, in preparation for his climb. I feel very much at peace in Swayambhu. The colorful prayer flags
dance in the wind around the stupas with the painted eyes of Buddha watching. Stray
dogs, their tails eternally curly, strut about in the rain or sleep at the base
of the stupas or even inside the arch of the little temples to escape the rain. Bold macaque monkeys leap and swing overhead, fighting with one another, scanning
for food. They are a rough lot; some are missing patches of fur, and one is
actually missing a nose. One baby has a mangled leg he drags about. Birds chirp
and somewhere a cuckoo chimes.
I eventually walk up to the next
level, where the gift shops are. The rain is pelting but I have an umbrella and
water-proof camera. I’ve been here twice before and so just enjoy it all. Other
trekkers are here, maybe German. I’m intrigued as always by the Hindu masks on
display. Jess and I meet up and I film her spinning the prayer wheels.
level, where the gift shops are. The rain is pelting but I have an umbrella and
water-proof camera. I’ve been here twice before and so just enjoy it all. Other
trekkers are here, maybe German. I’m intrigued as always by the Hindu masks on
display. Jess and I meet up and I film her spinning the prayer wheels.
Chris is a little self-conscious with a crowd staring, cameras in his face and a boom mike over his head, but who
wouldn’t be? He didn’t set out to make a documentary, only to climb the Seven Summits
for a cause–Save One Life. Shy by nature, he comes across as
authentic, humble, and people will be drawn to that. So soft-spoken but a core of steel!
wouldn’t be? He didn’t set out to make a documentary, only to climb the Seven Summits
for a cause–Save One Life. Shy by nature, he comes across as
authentic, humble, and people will be drawn to that. So soft-spoken but a core of steel!
I watch the Nepalese light incense
at the temple, and candles at another temple. A monkey bolts up, grabs an
offering of food meant for the gods, and scoots away. They are fast and mischievous. There’s still
earthquake damage, manifested in cracks in the buildings and piles of bricks which is so sad at this ancient of sites. The rain came and went, as we walked about. It took a while to get the tickets, and we stood on a street corner watching all the people walking by. Women with lined faces and colorful but damp saris tried hard to sell us trinkets: bracelets, necklaces, purses. “Good price I give you,” “Madame for you?”
at the temple, and candles at another temple. A monkey bolts up, grabs an
offering of food meant for the gods, and scoots away. They are fast and mischievous. There’s still
earthquake damage, manifested in cracks in the buildings and piles of bricks which is so sad at this ancient of sites. The rain came and went, as we walked about. It took a while to get the tickets, and we stood on a street corner watching all the people walking by. Women with lined faces and colorful but damp saris tried hard to sell us trinkets: bracelets, necklaces, purses. “Good price I give you,” “Madame for you?”
Finally, Patrick, always with a smile and optimistic air, has our tickets and we enter. Old, beaten, the square is a relic of palaces and princes from long ago. Piles of bricks mark the way, old woman sit on wet rugs to sell souvenirs, and hundreds of pigeons swarm one small square. Rob is fascinated with them and takes excellent shots. A massive stone carving of Kali Bhairav dominates anther square, and it’s stunning. Bhairava is called a protector, as he guards the eight directions of the universe. In all Hindu temples, there will be a Bhairava idol. The Hindu faith is very complicated with gods taking all sorts of forms; but the stories are beautiful and the god manifestations are so interesting.
Despite all our differences in culture, religion, ethnicity, location, we have one major uniting thing: hemophilia. Chris, as a person with hemophilia from the US, represents the ultimate life that the Nepalese could one day have: freedom from disability, life with factor available, hope to accomplish their dreams, which could be as basic as just going to school or university. Chris’s dream is to reach the summit of Everest and eventually finish the Seven Summits. I think he embodies the Nepalese proverb “Aim to fly and touch the moon together”, or in this case the summit of Everest!
Off to Nepal.. and Everest
Laurie Kelley
March 26, 2017
I’m sitting at Gate 11, Terminal E, waiting for my flight to Nepal, and just remembered I didn’t lock either of my checked bags. I never forget something like that. I’m a bit distracted: my head’s on the upcoming climb to Everest base camp. Everything else is packed: climbing gear, boots, trekking poles, layers and layers of clothing (base layer, mid-layers, outer shells), medicine to cover all typical ailments including altitude sickness and bronchial infections, expedition sunglasses, hats, bandanas, gloves and liners… somehow it all fit into the North Face Base Camp bag with room to spare. I filled that room with donated stuffed animals for the kids in Nepal. hopefully it will all be there when I arrive in Kathmandu!
How are the kids in Nepal? We have about 100 of them registered with Save One Life and track their progress through our program. Nepal is one of the world’s poorest countries, and yet it has a stellar Nepal Hemophilia Society run by people with hemophilia. For the beneficiaries of Save One Life, we check to see if they have enough income, are in school, and whether they get treatment for their hemophilia. We have many prominent sponsors in our community who fund these families.
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| Laurie Kelley with Youth Group, Nepal Hemophilia Society September 2015 |
The country suffered a devastating earthquake on April 25, 2015; several members of the hemophilia community died. The hospital was damaged; homes left in piles of bricks. I toured the earthquake damage when I was there in September 2015, and realized in the global hemophilia community there is no emergency response protocol or team. It doesn’t happen often, but in earthquake prone areas like Nepal, it would be a good program to establish.
See my trip to Nepal 6 months after the earthquake here.
I’m looking forward this coming week to meeting our kids again, seeing what the needs are, how they have managed. We raised funds shortly after the earthquake with the massive help of the Mary Gooley Center in Rochester, New York, to help with housing and necessities. Patrick James Lynch and his team at Believe Ltd. is coming on this trip as well to make a documentary about life in developing countries, through the eyes of Chris Bombardier, a young man with hemophilia B from Denver, Colorado, who will be the first person with hemophilia to attempt to summit Everest!
I’ll be with Chris this week as we tour homes and the hospital, and visit the earthquake areas. Then Chris, his wife Jess, photographer Rob Bradford and I all head out for Everest base camp on April 2 with renowned guide Ryan Waters of Mountain Professionals. Ryan has accompanied Chris on four of his Seven Summits. Everest will be Chris’s sixth summit… and that would leave Mt. Vinson in Antarctica.
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| Chris infusing on a summit! |
Chris would have summited Vinson by now, but he was denied access! Why?
Because he has hemophilia–a “disability.” Huh. Chris has a few things to show the guys in Antarctica.
Chris also has a few things to show his peers in developing countries. The mountain is a metaphor for overcoming any challenge. You can’t get anywhere in life unless you first set your sights on a summit; get the right equipment; train, train, train–success is hard work; map your route; get a guide; then go.
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| Waiting to see this on Everest! |
Go Chris! We wish you success and safety, and everyone thanks you for your heroic efforts on behalf of people with hemophilia everywhere!
Sign up to get notifications about Chris’s historic here!
From the bottom of our hearts and hiking boots we wish to thank Octapharma for completely funding Chris’s climb, and Believe Ltd.’s documentary. While there is no amount of money that can compensate Chris for his time and personal risks, none of this adventure and effort would be possible without Octapharma’s generous support and more importantly, its belief in Chris and Save One Life. Chairman Wolfgang Marguerre has been one of Save One Life’s biggest supporter and sponsor of children with hemophilia in developing countries. He truly believes in our mission. Thank you Mr. Marguerre and all your colleagues, including Flemming Neilsen and Carl Trenz, for your help and support!
If you would like to sponsor a chid in need, visit www.SaveOneLife.net to learn more. Together we are improving lives with hemophilia…one at a time.
Wednesday’s Child*
Laurie Kelley
March 19, 2017
It’s March, and our hemophilia community in the US is celebrating Hemophilia Awareness Month. We celebrate advances in medicine, especially how far we have come in treatment, from whole blood to plasma to factor concentrates, and now viral-free and plentiful.
But that’s only in the US and similar developed countries. Up to 75% of the world’s population with hemophilia receives little or no treatment to stop bleeding. Compound that with extreme poverty and isolation, and there seems little to celebrate.
To support the goal of Hemophilia Awareness
Month, Save One Life, the nonprofit I founded, is sharing stories every Wednesday in March to illustrate the
challenges and triumphs of children and adults with hemophilia in the
countries we serve.
Month, Save One Life, the nonprofit I founded, is sharing stories every Wednesday in March to illustrate the
challenges and triumphs of children and adults with hemophilia in the
countries we serve.
We hope these stories will touch your heart and encourage
you to become a champion of our cause–reaching out to family and friends to
encourage them to sponsor a child or donate to a program. We have about 30 children in need of sponsorship–please visit our website and see these beautiful children who deserve someday to celebrate too.
you to become a champion of our cause–reaching out to family and friends to
encourage them to sponsor a child or donate to a program. We have about 30 children in need of sponsorship–please visit our website and see these beautiful children who deserve someday to celebrate too.
Meet Rathish from India
Rathish became a Save One Life beneficiary whenhe was 17. At that point he had suffered so many untreated bleeds, he could no
longer walk. His mother would carry him in her arms, even as a teenager, or he
would use a wheelchair. Living in the country, he was confined at home, unable
to go to school. For activities, he played on the computer, drew and watched
TV.
Rathish’s father is a day laborer, earning about
$50 per month. His older brother, Sudhish, who doesn’t have hemophilia, works
as a welder to supplement the family’s income.
$50 per month. His older brother, Sudhish, who doesn’t have hemophilia, works
as a welder to supplement the family’s income.
When Save One Life’s India program coordinator,
Usha Parthasarathy, met Rathish, she was particularly touched by his condition.
She organized a fundraiser to pay for surgery on Rathish’s knees at a
hospital 50 miles away from home. His mother used his sponsorship money to help
defray other surgery-related expenses.
Usha Parthasarathy, met Rathish, she was particularly touched by his condition.
She organized a fundraiser to pay for surgery on Rathish’s knees at a
hospital 50 miles away from home. His mother used his sponsorship money to help
defray other surgery-related expenses.
It took much courage and weeks of physiotherapy
for Rathish to walk again, with the help of braces and crutches. Now at age 21,
he continues to build his strength with exercises and walking every day. He is
home schooling at the 10th grade level, and honing his computer skills.
for Rathish to walk again, with the help of braces and crutches. Now at age 21,
he continues to build his strength with exercises and walking every day. He is
home schooling at the 10th grade level, and honing his computer skills.
Meet
Inderjeet from India
Inderjeet from India
This is a sad story, as Inderjeet, 15, passedaway on February 28 from a CNS bleed. The only son of his parents, Inderjeet complained
of a headache on Sunday evening. After dinner he became sick, so his parents
made the two and a half hour trip to the hospital. The medical team determined
he had a CNS bleed and infused factor.
The team decided to transport Inderjeet to
another hospital with better facilities–a drive through busy city streets in
Delhi–but when they arrived, the hospital did not have a bed for him. He had
to go back to the first hospital. This proved to be too much. Emergency surgery
never happened and limited factor infusions were insufficient to save this boy,
who loved art and wanted to be an engineer.
another hospital with better facilities–a drive through busy city streets in
Delhi–but when they arrived, the hospital did not have a bed for him. He had
to go back to the first hospital. This proved to be too much. Emergency surgery
never happened and limited factor infusions were insufficient to save this boy,
who loved art and wanted to be an engineer.
Inderjeet was sponsored for more than six years.
In his most recent update to Save One Life, he was grateful to his sponsor and
expressed his love for her.
In his most recent update to Save One Life, he was grateful to his sponsor and
expressed his love for her.
Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go,
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonnie and blithe and good and gay.
—A. E. Bray’s Traditions of Devonshire (Volume II,
pp. 287–288), 1838
