Village People

one of the most unique parts about hiking through india is not the 22,000+ high peaks or the expansive view of the himalayan mountain range, but the path which takes you through, not around, the villages. completely surrounded by trees and not a soul in sight one moment and then the next you’ll be walking through someone’s porch and by their front door in order to continue on your journey. my trek to harkidun took us through remote villages and into a more secluded part of india than i have experienced yet.

no need for money here, the bartering system is still sufficient. running water is a stream outside the village; i’d have a hard time explaining the concept of a faucet. they live on the land and off of it; the crops they harvest are the food they eat, the sheep they herd is the wool they wear. no cement houses of the city, the land periodically provides them with fallen pines for their walls, the river with stones for their floors. it’s the only life most have ever known and it’s enough.

in this belt of the garwalh district where i walk, the matriarchs rule the people. you’ll know the woman in charge not only by the way she looks you up and down [as well as restricting you from taking her photo], but by the six inch nose ring she proudly carries upon her face. yea, you don’t mess with her. some have up to five husbands and are born with the freedom to come and go as they please. in a world where the rest of your gender is abused and suppressed, i wonder if they understand this paradox of their remote society. they look far older than their years would tell, that is, if they knew their birthday or the number of years which they have since passed. village life is not easy and they wear their hardships between the wrinkles on their face.

the village children are always my favorite and i ready my camera upon the approach of the small township. though you have no idea of the others who have come before you, they make you feel as if you are an event they have been waiting for. their clothes are tattered and unlike their elders, holes are left unrepaired. they make toys from the tops of bottles and spend their days herding the livestock out to graze. we saw a school for the 8 local villages, holding only a class of 20, most of them faithfully attending the lessons of the land. their little noses run without attention and their fingers are already rough and stained from their work in the field; childhood is not a part of their vocabulary.

all we pass, the villagers are eager to confirm our destination and point us in the right direction. they stop their work to watch us trudge by and i’m sure their observations of us carried the conversation for the next few hours. some are repairing water pipes, others sifting dinner’s rice. many men sit around drinking chai, and the older women knitting in patches of sunlight. some ask us for medical supplies [we were smart ones and left the first aid kit at home] and i hand out the tylenol with discernment as most are just looking for a cure-all pill. we ask if we can pr for them, knowing this seemingly intangible medicine will do far more than we ever could; this year i’ve seen more power in the Spirit than there ever will be in my first aid kit. in those beautiful, dark places, i hope we walked as lights.