How Tea Empowers Me

Kasey Cox

Since the 2003 publication of Khaled Hosseini’s “The Kite Runner,” people far and wide, small town to big city, teens to senior citizens, descended of many nations, have raved about this story. This success is rare for a first novel, and it is perhaps even more unusual that a book about Afghanistan, whose author has a Middle Eastern name, would have such widespread applause in these times when – dare I say it? – such a name might be met with a more frosty reception by much of the U.S. Nevertheless, despite the odds of a sophomore publication enjoying equal success, despite Hosseini’s focus on a culture about which many Americans (myself included) have had little understanding, despite the damper that hardcover prices can place on number of sales, “A Thousand Splendid Suns,” published in May of this year, is as beloved as its older brother.

Although I frequently recommend both these books, I must admit, in general, I am intimidated to read about the Middle East. The headlines and newscasts that have been coming from that part of the world over the last few years are bewildering to me. I feel depressed, overwhelmed, angry, confused, and numb in turn; but overlying all those emotions, the sense of guilt that I don’t know enough about the people of Afghanistan; the differences in religious practices between Sunni and Shia Muslims; the origin of the conflicts between Pakistan and India; and so forth. What are Americans doing, mired in these conflicts? I actually do not mean that question in a “peace-nik” kind of way, though my politics and personal philosophies probably lean more in that direction. The embarrassing truth is this: I am ignorant to the history, politics, cultural knowledge, geography, economics, and religions of this area of the world.

While Khaled Hosseini’s novels have given readers a window into the world of Afghanistan in the 1970’s, that is not necessarily the focus of his writing: ultimately, Hosseini delivers beautifully-crafted stories, with characters who struggle through difficult human situations, transcending their milieu. And so it was a nonfiction memoir-biography that has opened the way for me to understand the recent events in Afghanistan. The book that has given me a foothold here is Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin’s “Three Cups of Tea.”

Greg Mortenson was a mountaineer who, after a failed attempt to climb K2 in 1993, wandered off the wrong trail coming down the glacier. Separated from his guide and his group, weakened from rescuing another climber near the peak, he would have died if not nursed back to the health by the people in the remote, isolated village where he ended up. Touched by the generosity of these impoverished people, and horrified by the conditions under which they often lived, Mortenson promised them that he would return to help them build a school. He knew next to nothing about fundraising, politics, or running a humanitarian agency. Though his parents had been Lutheran missionaries in Africa for most of his childhood, their efforts to build a school and a teaching hospital took decades of work, in another era, in a completely different place.

The story that follows, of Mortenson’s struggles to raise the money, purchase and move the materials, develop the plans, organize and recruit help from the various layers and factions of Pakistani society, is nothing but incredible. And, in reading about “Dr. Greg” (as many of his Pakistani friends refer to him), and his journey from “failed” mountaineer to head of the humanitarian agency of “The Central Asia Institute,” I began to feel familiar with the names and locations of villages in Pakistan … the differences in Suni and Shia prayers … the impact of British Imperialism in India and how it still affects the relationship between India and Pakistan today … the names of leaders in Afghanistan over the last fifteen years. And I began to understand more about what has happened there.

I feel surprisingly empowered by “Three Cups of Tea,” and not in the way I expected. I thought I might be inspired by the mission to build schools in Pakistan, and, indeed, I was. As his co-writer proclaims in the introduction to the book, it is next to impossible to read Greg Mortenson’s story – or report on it – and not become a supporter. However, I also feel that now I can forge ahead in reading to learn more about the headlines that have too often been hopeless spin.