Reminiscings from the Roof of the World
Thunder and Hail
March 21-23, Tuesday – Thursday. Sharon started vomiting at 5 am and was still very sick at breakfast time. So we delayed our departure for Ghorepani and spent the morning prayer walking around the area. Finally at noon, because Sharon was still ill, we left Vivian, Puchanga, and Bala with her (they would meet up with us later) and headed out. Rain, sleet and hail pummeled us the entire day. An hour or so out in a lushly green area we passed a lovely waterfall tumbling into a frigid pool at the bottom. As we approached Jenn and Aaron said that they wanted to be rebaptized so we stopped for a bit and had a beautiful ceremony with them.
As a day’s walk progresses and people are feeling tired they begin asking Robby, “How much farther?” Anyone who has trekked with Robby will know his standard response, “In ten minutes we will be closer.” An hour later the response will be the same. Tuesday was a hard day for me physically. I was not struggling with lack of oxygen but my legs were gone. Around midday Daniel L kindly took my pack and carried it on his front as well as the one he was carrying on his back. That helped me so much! A strange thing happens when one has carried a backpack for a long period of time and then puts it down. There is a bizarre lightness, the sensation of standing on your legs disappears and it literally feels like floating. Although I didn’t actually float my afternoon journey was then so much more enjoyable.
Just past Deorali we stopped at the high place from which we had prayed the previous week. An intense thunder/lightning/hail storm came up. In the mountains the rumble of thunder is greatly magnified as its sound bounces among the mountains, so that alone made for a majestic experience. But also, the atmosphere was like a soup of static electricity; the static in the air was so dense that when the lightning flashed our hair stood up. I supposed we should have been afraid but the experience had a holy feel that was quite invigorating. A scene from the movie, Braveheart, flashed into my mind where near the end William Wallace was being tortured to death. In one last act he mustered all his strength and at the top of his lungs screamed, “Freedom!!!” And I knew what I had to do. A few others and I climbed up onto a boulder and as loud as we could proclaimed “Freedom!” in all directions. I remember thinking what a target we were for a lightning bolt but it didn’t matter. We shouted. What I experienced that day was so spiritually incredible that it is hard to describe. However King David wrote a poem recorded twice in Scripture (2 Samuel 22:10-16 and Psalm 18:9-15) that very much describes what I was feeling.
“He opened the heavens and came down;
dark storm clouds were beneath his feet.
Mounted on a mighty angelic being, he flew,
soaring on the wings of the wind.
He shrouded himself in darkness,
veiling his approach with dark rain clouds.
Thick clouds shielded
the brightness around him
and rained down hail and burning coals.
The Lord thundered from heaven;
the voice of the Most High resounded
amid the hail and burning coals.
He shot his arrows
and scattered his enemies;
great bolts of lightning flashed,
and they were confused.
Then at your command, O Lord,
at the blast of your breath,
the bottom of the sea could be seen,
and the foundations of the earth
were laid bare.”
Psalms 18:9-15 NLT
After a short walk we arrived at our teahouse in Ghorepani, meaning water for horses. (Tadapani means far water and Tatapani, which we bypassed, means hot water.) Physically I was done. Somehow I managed to get the only hot shower of the night and it did wonders to restore my soul. Others asked but since the house was full the kitchen was too busy with dinner to heat water for showers and I felt bad for those who braved the icy alternative. It was dark out and so as we waited for dinner, everyone settled into savoring copious amounts of Nepali milk tea, card games, and intense but unproductive conversation with a large group of Europeans also staying the night.
Nasty weather greeted us early Wednesday morning. Not to be deterred we climbed Poon Hill and facing the snowcapped peaks, somewhat obscured by weather, we prayed together and claimed the Annapurna region for Jesus. Bhim climbed to the top of a tree and high above the waving Tibetan prayer flags hung a dedicated banner as a prophetic act.
After tea and breakfast we hit the trail and arrived in Nangethanti in time for lunch at the Christian owned teahouse where we were housed the week before. They cooked us a yummy lunch that included chicken curry and we hungrily devoured every bite.
After lunch we trekked down to Banthanti and again settled into Hotel Trekking. It was wet and cold and we spent the evening huddled around the fire built in a metal vessel (a bit like a fire pit) that was situated in the open air dining room. As we sat around visiting Daniel G. shared his dream of starting a training center for pastors in the villages of Nepal. (Katie’s heart was stirred and her church would be a part of helping get Daniel’s center off the ground.)
Chicken was on the menu again tonight. Since it was raining out we had an up close view of the butchering. It was nothing like the way we did it in Arkansas when I was growing up. The teahouse owner squatted on the kitchen floor holding the chicken in his hand using his thumb to pin its head against its side. Then holding the chicken’s neck over a metal bowl on the floor he sliced off the head, carefully allowing all of the blood to drain into the bowl. There was no headless chicken flopping all over and squirting blood everywhere. Who knew it could be so simple..and tidy.
At 8:30 pm or so, across the path from our teahouse believers gathered to worship at the only church in the region. The singing was heartfelt and stirring after which Stephen and Wes gave testimonies and Chris shared the Word. We then took communion together with the local Christians as a sign of support and unity.
Back at the teahouse it was discovered that rain had leaked through the roof and melted the kitchen’s clay stove. The owner quickly gathered a bucket of clay and rebuilt the stove while we were warming by the fire awaiting one more lusciously warming cup of chiya (tea) before bed. Some of the girls had seen spiders in their room and were nervous about going to bed. So weirdly enough bedtime conversation centered on whether or not spiders climb down our throats while we sleep.
Thursday we walked downhill to Matatati. It was pouring the entire way so we stopped and bought plastics (heavy-duty garbage bags), cut out holes for head and arms, and wore them as rain jackets. It was a nice walk but by the time we arrived at Shamjhana Lodge we were soaked. As I fell asleep it was hard to believe that this would be our last night on the trail.
Coffee, Tea, and Reverie 