Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin, Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace…One School at a Time (New York: Penguin, 2006).

They live in isolated villages deep in the Karakorum Mountains at the western edge of the Himalayas. On our paper map abstractions, they live in Pakistan or Afghanistan. In reality, they’re on their own – stateless. The governments of these countries do not exist in their communities — no schools, no roads, no sanitation, no health care.

They practice their own version of Islam, Sunni, Shia or Ismali, often blended with older Buddist traditions. They would not recognize themselves in the fearful Muslim stereotypes thrown about in many outlets of the North American media and society. They are people simply living their lives and trying to ensure a better future for their children.

That’s what Greg Mortenson discovered after a fateful event in 1993 when he stumbled, alone and exhausted, off course on a weary descent from K2, the world’s second highest mountain in “Pakistan.” A village leader in Korphe took him in, offered him tea and a place to rest. During his stay, he asked to see the school thinking he’d repay some kindness through a donation of school supplies. What he saw changed his life:

Eighty-two children, seventy-eight boys and the four girls who had the pluck to join them, kneeling on the frostry ground, in the open … the village had no school and the Pakistani government didn’t provide a teacher…. [all the town could afford] they shared a teacher with the neighboring village of Munjung, and he taught in Korphe three days per week. The rest of the time the children were left alone to practice their lessons.

The book details Mortenson’s experience raising funds in the United States to build the children of Korphe a school, and then traveling back to the Karakorams to get it built. This process took several years, but Mortenson helped the villagers to make it happen. And soon representatives from other nearby villages approached him for help obtaining a school or paying for a teacher — which cost the unreachable sum of $1 US a day.

The book tells the story of how he built a network of support that has allowed him to build schools, schools that offer an alternative to the only other source of education in the region — the often-private-Saudi sponsored islamic fundamentalist madrasses that foment hatred, but offer often the only source opportunity and hope to thousands of impoverished young boys and their families. But also generate a jihadist ready army and Taliban fighters.

What can North American and European city dwellers learn from the pages of this book?

1. The interconnectedness between educating villagers in Central Asia and security of cities like New York. In 2001 Mortenson was in Northern Pakistan near the Afghanistan and Chinese borders. As he worked on his school-building mission, he noted numerous brand new madrasses in some of the villages. When word of the September 11, 2001 events reached him. His guide and self-proclaimed body-guard who spoke numerous local tongues and knew of Osama Bin Laden and Al Qaida’s training camps nearby in Afghanistan said: “Your problem in New York village comes from there,” pointing toward Afghanistan, “Osama.” People who had never heard of New York City knew more about how and why thousands of Americans were killed there than anyone there.

Mortenson insists that the real enemy is ignorance that can lead to hatred. Offering education and hope fights both better than pouring more bombs on Afghanistan.

2. The importance of education. As the one young village woman said, “It is like water — it is important for everything in life.” Mortenson’s organization, the Central Asia Institute, supports more than education for children, it also creates vocational training for adults and offers starter supplies like sewing machines or mountaineering gear. The book follows how numerous individuals improved their lives through the help of education. The granddaughter of the village leader who first took him in offers a great example. She completed 6 years of schooling in Korphe, and then went down to Skardu, a regional urban area, for further education.

Jahan, who had come to Skardu planning to become a simple health worker and return to Korphe was revising her goals upward…”When I was a little girl and I would see a gentleman of lady with good, clean clothes I would run away and hide my face. But after I graduated from the Korphe School, I felt a big change in my life. I felt I was clear and clean and could go before anybody and discuss anything…. Now that I am in Skardu, I feel that anything is possible. I don’t want to be just a health worker, I want to be such a woman that I can start a hospital and be an executive and look over all the health problems of all the women in the Braldu.”

As many North American cities struggle with poverty and related issues like addiction, the solutions offered appear more like band-aids: soup kitchens, shelters, and some basic health care.

What about more vocational training? What about offering better educational opportunities to children at risk?

Something as simple as a sewing machine can transform the lives of several families in the Karakorum. Maybe some of our own urban challenges have equally simple solutions.

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Some images:

Image courtesy Greg Mortenson, Central Asia Institute. A community girls school.

More soon…