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CROWNED BY LIGHTNING 1. Nepal, 1989: "We are old men now, sahib," Tenzing murmurs and he smiles. Time has worked her alchemical magic on Tenzing's teeth, Hillary notices. Twin row of solid gold gleam, where once only the left molar shone. He feels a stab of disappointment. Tenzing hasn't refused: it isn't the Sherpa way to refuse outright, but the implication is there. We're both old men now. We should squat on the porch, sipping hot buttered tea. Talk about the past, don't try to relive it. Perhaps he's right, Hillary thinks. Mountaineering is a young man's sport. And the high tops are conquered now. All save one. Tenzing gestures to the houses lower on the slope. They are mud plastered hovels with roofs of corrugated zinc. "My village, my family, they depend on me. Trekkers stop here to visit me. I tell them lies, beautiful lies. They won't insult me by paying me for my time, but they leave things they no longer need. Boots, teabags, Rolex watches." "I understand," Hillary says and he really does. Tenzing is their wise old man now, a source of civic pride. Well, there are worse ways to spend your last years. Hillary pictures the young climbers, the Americans, the Germans, their impossibly smooth faces with the windchapped lips, their eyes shining. Listing to this old man. "You want tea?" |
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