The trek from Komik village to Demul is our longest days walk, and takes us over the highest point in our time here – a pass at 4,700m. Thankfully the day dawned sunny and the climb out of Komik up to the pass was strenuous but spectacular. We reached the pass, cheered and took pictures.
What we hadn’t realised was that the path didn’t descend after the pass, but stayed at around 4,600m for 4 hours trekking, before crossing an even higher pass at 4,730m and finally going down to Demul.
Altitude sickness is a funny thing. You just can’t tell who will succumb – fitness makes little difference. The initial symptoms include dizziness, nausea, fatigue and flu-like joint pain. Despite being very careful with acclimatisation, altitude sickness has been the boss of this week. Today’s long trek at such high altitude has claimed two more victims from our company. Pete and Ollie ended up bundled onto the yaks for most of the trek, much to Izzy and Freddies disgust (the yaks are theirs, clearly). Alf has been coughing since Langza, where the dust really got into his lungs, but luckily his breathing has been OK.
[Fred at the second pass]
We came down from the high ground on a steep gravelly track, with scree slopes on either side. Two tiny figures were slip-sliding down the slope next to us, and as they got lower we made out that it was two elderly ladies with enormous bundles of grasses tied to their backs. Once on the path, they sang out a cheery “Julley!” (hello), and steamed along the track ahead of us, bent almost double under their bundles, and completely putting us to shame.
Every house in Demul had the same fragrant grasses drying in stacks on the roofs, fodder for the winter. There are also drying stacks of a prickly gorse-like plant which doesn’t look so appetising. What hard work to gather enough winter food for the animals, never mind the people.
Just like Kibber, the animals came down from the hills at 6pm, so we postponed our show to 6.30pm. The village coordinator had arranged a hall for us, and walked around the streets shouting all about it. He is a very important figure in Demul, which is more centrally managed than most villages. One of his roles is to assign visitors to a homestay in a rotation system to share out the income fairly. The whole village seemed to be buzzing about the performance, he had obviously been spreading the word!
Bennys night in Kaza hadn’t made much difference to how he was feeling, though he was able to have his oxygen levels checked so we know he’s not in any danger. With only about an hour to go before we opened the show it had become clear that Ollie was much too unwell to stand in for Benny this time. Izzy took up the challenge – no time for any kind of rehearsal – which meant losing Grandma which is a bit sad, and Freddie playing the flower seller, which is simply cute. Pete was also suffering, from yak riders backache as well as the altitude, but fortunately is going to do the show.
The people of Demul couldn’t have been more welcoming or supportive. More and more people crammed in, until there was about 120 people watching, laughing and clapping. Izzy was fantastic as a last minute Boy – her habit of learning everyones lines coming in handy. The rest of the cast rose to the challenge splendidly, filling in narrators lines, adapting scenes on the fly – the gang kids in particular were down to just two, Alf and Fred doing a great job between them.
At the end of the performance, we welcomed the village coordinator to the stage, and presented the village school with the resources. We have also been distributing invitations to the children with disabilities in the villages, inviting them and their families to the show in Kaza on Saturday.
The next days trek to Lalung village was going to be too much for our invalids, so Pete, Alf, Benny and Ollie took a car and met the rest of us there. Hopefully being at 3,800m in Lalung will speed their recovery.
[Donkeys ready to set off for the next village]
Demul is about 500m above Lalung, and it felt like we lost most of that altitude in the first hour, zig-zagging down the side of a gorge, too steep to ride the yaks. The side of the path dropped away to a thin blue line of a stream below. The donkeys, happy little creatures loaded up with the theatre bits and bobs, bumbling along the path ahead of us, didn’t seem to mind standing right on the very edge for a nibble of the best grass.
A herd of rare Spitian blue sheep bounded up the side of the almost sheer cliff opposite us, their hooves sending a cascade of loose rocks tumbling down towards us, smashing apart on outcrops, shards flying. The gorge was narrow here; Tenzin our guide ushered us on quickly, glancing watchfully up at the cliff-face.
We arrived at Lalung mid-afternoon. The village is set in an utterly desolate landscape. Bare rock in every direction, twisted up into towering mountains – starkly beautiful, but also barren and unforgiving. Lalung is like a green jewel – little terraced fields below the cheerful whitewashed mud houses dug into the steep hillside, all windows facing south.
Today is an important day in Lalung and everyone is working their socks off. The pea truck has come to collect the harvest, and everyone’s crop is weighed, monies allocated, and their cash for the year is earned.
There is a hall in the village we can use but the man with the key is, understandably, busy with his peas right now. And so is everyone else in the village. It will be after 8 or even 9pm before they finish working. We have been asked to perform at 9am tomorrow instead, as everyone will be relaxed that their harvest is in and in a mood to celebrate a little before the next phase of farmwork begins.
This suited us well, as it gives everyone a full day of rest.
There was some early morning confusion about where we were performing. We have become accustomed to using the local temple hall, so headed up towards the monastery as usual. However it turned out that Lalung has a dedicated party hall, and we’re in there. We are a slick team now when it comes to setting up, and we were ready to open in about 15 minutes. Our audience was already gathering – little children coming in 2s and 3s, older children with toddlers in tow, parents with babies tied on their backs, and a good helping of the older generation too, with nut brown wrinkled faces from a lifetime of hard work outside.
The show was enjoyed by around 80 people, and was a lovely finish to our week in the high villages. After the show we gave the resources to one of the government schools teaching staff, who looked delighted.
[Tenzin our guide enjoying the show - the man in the hat and brown jacket]
In total, we have performed to 425 people who live in some of the most remote villages on earth. “Every day is busy, every day is the same” couldn’t be more true for these people, and we are so lucky to have the opportunity to share our work with them.
Everyone quickly left the hall after the show, hurrying back to their fields knowing that every moment of summer counts.