In a previous blog, I already mentioned the heavy lifting that Nepalese porters do just to earn a living. It left me wondering: Is it a fair business model? Are we helping the local economy by hiring them? Or are we simply taking advantage of their willingness to earn a dime?
In times of despair
During the third day of the hike (7th of April), my body started to feel weak. Especially toward the end of the trek, when we faced a huge climb through the forest - steep, chilly and above all: endless.
By the time we arrived at the tea house, my body was unable to warm itself. Even the cold shower only seemed to warm my body briefly. At dinner, I couldn’t get the food down my throat, feeling nauseous and completely drained. With some encouragement from my friends and our guides, I managed to eat some of the garlic soup that Jet had ordered and a few pieces of apple and pomegranate that our guide brought with him. With a “full” stomach (kind of), I headed to bed.
That night, I was burning up. My heart was pounding and my breathing frequency was going through the roof.
But in the morning, I didn't feel like giving up. My body wasn’t great, but it wasn't terrible either. So I picked myself up, packed my bag, and went to breakfast. Even though my appetite had completely disappeared, I finished my breakfast and actually felt pretty proud of myself.
I knew what was going on - this wasn't just about being sick. I'm simply not used to hiking for days on end with a 12kg backpack on my shoulders and the ups-and-downs of the infamous Nepalese flat. I was pushing myself too hard, so I decided there and then: I am going to hire a porter.
A joint decision
Our guide also advised Jet to make use of the porter. She'd really been struggling with the idea of letting someone else carry a heavy load in exchange for some money. I didn’t want to pressure or push her - it's a very personal choice - and let her decide on her own. I was feeling sick and weak, and I wasn't going to risk getting worse while approaching the pass - a 10 hour walk at an altitude of 5100 meters.
In the end, she decided to make use of the porter as well. We combined our backpacks into one: essentials in hers, sleeping gear in mine. Even then, the backpack still felt pretty heavy - especially after Amanda clipped her sleeping bag onto the backpack.
We felt guilty. A sense of unease. Even embarrassment.
Genuine happiness or clearing my conscience?
The couple we were traveling with, also used a porter. They told us that they had been advised to use a porter and that it would make a difference on the man’s life. The income from a few days' work could support his entire family for a month.
They kept reassuring us, but seeing our little porter carrying that heavy, overstuffed backpack, gave me a deep feeling of guilt.
During the hike on April the 10th, we asked him if he was okay. He said the bag was slightly heavier than the previous time, but manageable. During the walk, he kept a faster pace than any of us, but neither of us could shake the guilt when we passed him taking a little break. During one of his stops, we gave him a Snickers - not as an apology, but as a genuine thank you. He seemed really happy and appreciative, which in the end, gave me a good feeling.
But still... I can’t shake the feeling when I see him walking ahead with our fully packed backpack, that I’m taking advantage of him.
Is that feeling justified?
Should I feel guilty or ashamed?
Should I consider that many porters don’t even get the chance to work because the market is so saturated?
Is it possible he actually likes this job—feels proud of it?
Or am I just trying to clear my conscience, knowing that I couldn’t carry my own weight up the mountain?
I don’t have a clear answer yet. But these are the kinds of questions that make this trek much more than just a physical journey. It’s a mental and moral one, too.
