“The first time you share tea with a Balti, you are a stranger, the second time you are an honored guest. The third time you become family, and for our families we are prepared to do anything, even die.”

This astonishing book is a nonfiction tale of those three cups of tea Greg Mortenson had with the people of Korphe, a remote village in Northern Pakistan. Co-written by acclaimed journalist David Oliver Relin, the 368 page long book met with enthusiastic acclaim, and since its publication in 2006 has sold more than 2.5 million copies in 29 languages. Moreover, in an official ceremony in March 23, 2009, Mortenson received Pakistan’s highest civilian award, the Sitara-i-Pakistan (The Star of Pakistan) for his courage and humanitarian effort to promote education for the last fifteen years.

Mortenson’s story begins in 1993, after a failed attempt to climb the world’s second highest peak, K2, to honor the memory of his younger sister Christa, who died from a massive seizure after a lifelong struggle with epilepsy. Alone, exhausted and emaciated, Mortenson wandered into the impoverished village of Korphe, where the villagers took him in and nursed him back to health. “They had very little but they gave me everything they had, and I was very touched by their hospitality” said Mortenson in an interview to CBS News .

While he was recuperating in Haji Ali’s – the chief of the village – home, he learned more and more about how people lived in this part of the world; that the nearest doctor lived a week’s walk away, most of the children suffered from malnutrition and one out of three children died before their first birthday. Mortenson felt he owed the people of the village, who had already begun to call him “Dr. Greg,” although he was a nurse. He thought at least he could get some supplies for Korphe’s school. Yet, taking him to an open land, Haji Ali explained that they didn’t have a school, and a teacher cost one dollar a day, which was more than the villagers could afford. Mortenson watched boys and girls kneeling on the frosty ground to write out their multiplication tables by scratching in the dirt with sticks. “I felt like my heart was being torn out. Can you imagine a fourth- grade class in America, alone, without a teacher, sitting there quietly and working on their lessons? I knew I had to do something,” Mortenson recounts in the book (p. 32). At that very moment, notes from Mortenson’s heart translated into a commitment. He put his hands on Haji Ali’s shoulder and said, “I will build a school here, I promise.”

Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace… One School at a Time traces Greg Mortenson’s efforts to fulfill this promise. Along the way, he encountered enormous obstacles. Upon his return to California, he sent 580 letters to celebrities asking for funds for the school, which yielded only one reply, a $100 check; he sold everything he owned, lived in a car to reduce his expenses and accepted donation in pennies from schoolchildren.
In spite of the challenges of raising funds, separation from his wife and newly born daughter, and an eight day kidnapping by the Taliban, Mortenson eventually succeeded in building the school. From his earnest promise grew Central Asia Institute, which built more than fifty schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan. “I see education least invested in, that can bring the most change” says Mortenson. In this respect, he is convinced that extremism and terror must be fought with books, not with bombs. He places particular emphasis on educating girls; their education, he believes, can affect the whole community. He gives the example of Jahan, the first educated woman in Skardu, who, after completing her studies in healthcare, could help reduce the mortality rate of women during pregnancy from about twenty a year to zero.

Along with recounting Greg Mortenson’s personal determination to build the school, the book also makes frequent mention of the villagers’ passion for education and their many sacrifices. In one instance, Haji Ali hands over twelve rams – half the wealth of the village – to Haji Mehdi, a mafia boss who ran the economy of the region and didn’t want the school built. “Don’t be sad,” Haji Ali told the shattered villagers. “Long after all those rams are dead and eaten this school will still stand. Haji Mehdi has food today, now, our children have education forever” (p. 153).

In another instance, he shows the Koran to Mortenson, and asks: “Do you see how beautiful this Koran is?”

“Yes” replies Mortenson.

“I can’t read it. This is the greatest sadness in my life. I will do anything so the children of my village never have to know this feeling. I will pay any price so they have the education they deserve.”

Mortenson’s story is uplifting in many ways. It is a story about “compassion in action, not talk” as Mortenson puts it. It is about taking notes when our hearts begin to speak and leaving our comfort zones to achieve what we deem right and necessary. In Brokaw’s words, his story is proof that “one ordinary person, with the right combination of character and determination, really can change the world.”

There are other stories of anonymous heroes all around world, who pack up their lives into a suitcase and move to remote places to turn stones into schools. Their stories are yet to be told.

Notes

1. http://www.threecupsoftea.com/greg-mortenson-bio-and-professional-photo
2. ttp://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2009/01/04/sunday/main4697362.shtml
3. http://www.threecupsoftea.com/2009/01/21/msnbc-jan2009/
4. http://www.blogs.targetx.com/wildriverreview/penworldvoices/2008/02/greg_motensons_mission_to_prom.html
5. Three cups of tea One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace… One School at a time, Greg Mortenson and david Oliver relin, 2006, Penguin Books, review of tom Brokaw.

The merchant asked: ‘What gift may I purchase for you, my pretty pet, and carry back for your pleasure and delight, all the way from India?’

The parrot spoke straightaway, as though he knew he would be asked and so had prepared an answer: ‘I will not ask that you bring me back any gift, but I would ask a favour of you, a task to perform for me in India.’

‘Ask, my pretty pet,’ said the merchant, very curious, ‘and if it is in my power to do what you ask, I will do it, God willing.’

‘Well, then,’ said the bird, ‘when you reach India and you see there many parrots like myself, address to them this speech. Say:

“So-and-So Parrot sends you his greetings. He longs to be with you, but he cannot be. He is, by the decree of Heaven, a prisoner of the good merchant who brings you this message, a slave in a cage, locked up.,,

Then convey to those parrots from me. “So-and-So Parrot begs you to remember him. Remember him, imprisoned in his cage, when you fly about freely in gardens of fragrant roses. Remember him, alone and without the company of his fellows, while you go about with one another, cheerful and jolly.”

Add also this plea to your speech, since the one who will understand it may be listening. Say: “What! Have you forgotten your friend so soon, that you can fly about happily in the company of others? It may be that I was at fault in my service of you, and you are punishing me by forgetting me in this way. Is that as it should be? Is it right to answer a wrong with a wrong? Would it not be better to answer a wrong with a right?

“And yet, because it is you, still you, who have turned away from me, your turning away is dear to me. It arouses my love the more. Even your anger, your revenge on me, is dearer to me than my own life. Your anger is fire, and it burns me with love. If that is the affect of your fire, how must your light be? If I ever escape this cage, I swear I shall make straight for your rose-garden. There, I shall sing songs of desire like the nightingale. The nightingale’s songs gather the thorns as well as the roses, the bitter as well as the sweet, in the same joyful embrace. In the songs of the nightingale, love surpasses the pleasures and pains of love, and is entirely and purely itself.”

The merchant listened to every word and promised to deliver his pet’s complaint as best he could.

Towards the end of his journeying in India, he came across a rose-garden in which were a company of parrots like his own pet bird. To them, according to his promise, he faithfully recounted the parrot’s words. One of the parrots who had been listening began to tremble and shake, then fell from its perch in the rose-tree, and lay on the ground, dead. The merchant was deeply upset. He said: ‘I have been the cause of that poor creature’s death!’ and he regretted that he had kept his promise.

On returning home, the good merchant gave to all the servants in his household the gifts that they had asked for. To the parrot, he said nothing. But the parrot demanded of him: ‘What of me? Did you not do what I asked? If you did, tell me what you saw and heard.’

‘I did do it,’ said the merchant, ‘and how deeply I regret that I did. I wish I had kept silent and not conveyed your words.’

‘Why do you repent of keeping a promise and fulfilling a trust?’ asked the parrot. ‘What has caused you to be so remorseful and upset?’

‘I conveyed your complaints to the parrots where I found them, and one was so touched by your pain that she trembled and dropped down dead.’

As soon as he heard this, the merchant’s parrot also began to tremble, then he seemed to lose balance, and fell onto the floor of his cage, cold and senseless.

The merchant was now so struck with grief and despair, he began to tear his hair and clothes. ‘My dear, sweet companion!’ he cried, ‘My singer of sweet songs! Keeper of my secrets! Ah, what shall I do without you? How shall I live without you?’ Then, in his great sadness, not knowing what else to do, the merchant took the corpse (as he thought) of his beloved pet out of the cage and laid it gently on the palm of his hand.

Suddenly, the parrot awoke and flew, through the open window, to the safety of the high branch of a tree in the garden. The merchant was relieved to see his pet well. He looked up into the tree at the bird and said:

‘Dear friend, explain to me the meaning of what that Indian parrot did, which enabled you to devise this trick to escape from your cage.’

‘She gave me excellent advice’, answered the parrot from the tree. ‘By her dying, she conveyed this advice to me: ‘Your own fine voice is the cause of your being in a cage. You are held in that way so that you may entertain people with your singing and your speech. Their praise and the flattering love of your master are the walls of your cage. Renounce your cage-renounce your voice and your master’s affection. Become dead as I am dead, and find freedom.’

‘Go in peace under the protection of God!’ said the merchant. ‘You have shown me the way to a far country to which we must all go, sooner or later. That is the great journey and I must prepare for it.