Someone Cares About You

part 3

Great news: she loved it. Super tasty apparently. Great success. Along with the kidney-sensitive treats we found, it was a nice way to supplement her diet. Unforseen long-term consequence though: she loved it so much she began demanding it throughout the day. Like, would come up to us and meow, and meow, and meow, and not stop, until we got up, went to the kitchen, and got her some cat drink.

And by doing so on demand, we have unfortunately created a monster: no matter what we are doing at home, Dozy knows that if she sits next to you and meows, 1) you know what she wants, and 2) you know that she will not stop until you get it for her now. And when you do get it, she gets extremely excited. She will bum rush the kitchen door as you enter. She will run around your feet as you open the can. She will let out the creakiest, crunchiest, most nails-on-the-chalkboard meow you've ever heard if she thinks you're not going fast enough.

I do not begrudge her this. It is gratifying to care for a creature whose most ardent desires are so simple that it is this easy to fulfill them. But I am a little sad, because I know in my heart that I have never loved any comestible as much as she loves this cat drink. She has a pleasure of a purity and intensity that I will never know.

in aotearoa, june isn’t our pride, it’s theirs. marsha p johnson and sylvia rivera are their historical figures, not ours. the phrase that “you owe your rights to Black trans women” is true there, but here we owe our rights to (mostly) Māori historical figures. i have the freedoms i do because of the legacy of an entirely different set of people operating in an entirely different context at entirely different times.

But because of american cultural imperialism, most queer people in Aotearoa don’t even know our own queer history. Carmen Rupe, Ngahuia Te Awekotuku, the Dorian Society, Gillian Laundon, Georgina Beyer, and the Wolfenden Association are some of our queer history. We should know their names! we should know what they did for us! but because of the power of the american imperial machine, we don’t.

our national pride month should be july, the month that the Homosexual Law Reform Act passed in 1986. our two largest cities hold their pride festivals in february and march, respectively. american queer history has very little (or nothing, depending on who you ask) to do with our queer history. anecdotally, from my own queries, queer youth in aotearoa know more about american queer history than our own.

Rainbow Valley, for all its macabre connotations, is also a literal trash heap.

Base Camp and ABC are worse. The entire route is lined with garbage.

The Sherpa population receive little credit for incredible amount of work they do, often doing most of the work of the climber or team so that the team takes all the credit. It’s true that there’s a monetary benefit for their communities, but their job is also one of the most dangerous in the world.

There are documented crimes on Everest. Theft and assault are just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Theft of oxygen tanks and other vital equipment can seriously endanger climbers. Entire books have been written about this.

People have been left to die on the climb. In some places, depending on the altitude, it becomes unavoidable or near impossible to move someone down the mountain. However, there have been avoidable deaths, again well-documented. Some climbers even say they have something called “summit fever” where only the climb has meaning, and not their fellow climbers. 

So what should be done?

Well, for a start, I think it helps to actually fucking listen to the people risking their lives working on that mountain. They don’t want it closed, because again, their lives will be ruined if that happens, but they DO want better regulations about who goes on the mountain, and what happens there.

See, you need a permit to climb Sagarmāthā , one issued by either the Nepalese or Chinese government, depending on where you start your ascent. And yes, multiple governments being involved makes it even more complicated, but let’s just focus on the Nepal side of things for now; the Chinese route is a real bitch to climb compared to the Nepal route so it doesn’t have such a tourist problem, and also the first step to any real solution there is for China to stop fucking occupying Tibet. So let’s focus on Nepal.

The permits are a very good thing; you need to pay to be issued one, which brings in money to the country, and it’s just common sense to regulate how many people are going up there. What’s not good is that the Nepalese government isn’t doing a very good job of regulating the permit sales; guides have been complaining for decades now about the government selling way too many permits, overcrowding the mountain, and allowing wildly unqualified people to go. One of the main things the Sherpa guide community wants is for the Nepalese government to sell less permits for Sagarmāthā, and make the skill/fitness requirements stricter. One popular proposal is to change the rules so that you need to have climbed at least one 8000m peak to be eligible to get a permit for Sagarmāthā. Since eight of the fourteen are in Nepal, this would keep money flowing, since people would need to do multiple trips, and it would also scare most of the dumbasses away - they want to be carried up the most famous mountain in the world so they can brag about summiting Everest. Having to climb a harder mountain first would make that look a lot less appealing, especially since K2 is a hellish death trap, and none of the other 8000′s have the same name recognition. You can’t really brag to your buddies at the office about having summited Dhaulagiri or Manaslu the same way you can brag about Everest. So that proposed rule change would scare off the tourists, and ensure every single person on Sagarmāthā is an experienced mountaineer that’s already experienced the death zone, as opposed to the current issue of multiple people that have literally never climbed before buying permits to go up Sagarmāthā.

They also want better regulations for the guide companies that can be hired for Sagarmāthā - there’s a huge problem of tourists paying for the cheaper guide companies, not realizing that the whole reason they’re cheap is because they take extremely dangerous shortcuts in their equipment maintenance. Those companies are a massive problem, and the legitimate guides hate them. So, so much. They put their clients in danger, they put their employees in danger, and they put everyone on the mountain with them in danger.

Finally, the guides need better pensions and life insurance, because the Nepalese government has a real problem of not paying the families nearly enough when a guide dies on the job. That was the entire reason for the 2014 strike - an avalanche struck the base camp during the pre-season, killing sixteen of the Sherpas that were laying down ropes for the season. The Nepalese government offered to compensate the families of the victims with just enough money to cover the funerals, which infuriated the entire Nepalese mountaineering community. They demanded that the mandatory life insurance policy have its payout doubled in the future, more money to be given to the families of the avalanche victims, and government payment of medical bills for the wounded. None of the demands were met, and so they went on strike for the year. The government did agree to give more money to the families… provided they presented the appropriate documents in Kathmandu, which isn’t really feasible for most people living in the Khumbu region, making them angrier. The life insurance payout was also raised, but only by half the amount the Sherpa’s had demanded.

To summarize: shutting down Sagarmāthā will fuck over the entire economy of Nepal, leading to people dying and lives being ruined. Listen to the fucking people you’re trying to advocate for. They want the Nepalese government to sell less permits to climb Sagarmāthā, have stricter rules about who can buy the permits, tighter regulations for guide companies, and more government assistance for guides and their families after an injury or death occurs. And yes, Sagarmāthā is a sacred place to the Sherpa people, and their religious leaders want everyone off the mountain… but let’s be real here, that’s never going to happen.

So, if this is an issue you care about, and you actually want to do something instead of making vague, impossible demands to feel good about yourself online, what can you do?

For a start, begin calling the mountain Sagarmāthā instead of Everest. Everest was only used as a name because Nepal and Tibet were closed to outsiders when the British were surveying the Himalaya’s in 1800′s, so they were unable to learn the mountains real name. And the surveyors were surprisingly serious about labelling mountains with the correct local names, which is why Everest and K2 are the only standouts among the 8000 meter peaks - K2 is so remote it never actually had a name, and the placeholder label of K2 stuck, while Sagarmāthā was believed to be the same situation and given a name instead. The only reason it’s still called Everest is because that’s the name that became famous. Getting the proper name into common use might make things right. It’s about respecting the culture of the Sherpa’s… and it will also respect the wishes of Sir George Everest, who absolutely fucking hated the proposal to name the mountain after him, and fought tooth and nail to leave a placeholder and keep searching for a proper local name. The poor bastards been rolling in his grave for over 150 years now, let’s get his name off the damn mountain already.

For improving the actual conditions, push for the Nepalese government to make the changes the guides want. International pressure is necessary for that; if nobody cares about the Sherpa’s, the government can do as they please, and the guides just have to put up with it. Pay attention, raise awareness, advocate for their wellbeing, and, again, listen to what they actually need/want.

Finally, rookies climbers going up Sagarmāthā should be judged, and judged hard. They’re not impressive. They’re fucking idiots being carried up a mountain by the real professionals so they can claim bragging rights. If someone brags about climbing the tallest mountain in the world, ask about their climbing experience and training, and if they’ve ever climbed/considered climbing any of the less famous 8000+ meter peaks. If they’re not an experienced climber that respects the mountain, mock them relentlessly. They’re not impressive, they’re an idiot that burned their own money to be carried up a really big rock and steal the credit for their guides hard work.

That being said, also show respect towards the people that have died on Sagarmāthā, AND the people that have witnessed death on that mountain. I’m not going to blame anyone for bad decision making at 8000 meters of elevation. The death zone was named that because the conditions cannot support human life; you are slowly dying as soon as you enter, and the trick is just to get back down before you succumb to it. The human brain does not enjoy being slowly suffocated to death, and you sort of lose your shit as a result. That’s just biology, happens to everyone. There’s a reason why disasters high up on the 8000+ peaks are so confusing - there’s always multiple different stories about how events played out, because short term memory loss and delirium are a very common side effect of being at an altitude unable to support human life. That’s also a large part of ‘summit fever’ on those peaks; people genuinely cannot make rational decisions up there. It’s a well documented problem. A fair amount of lethal falls up there are technically suicides, as people get confused and wander off cliffs, or begin removing protective gear, or other things nobody in their right mind would do. That’s why so many people die attempting to summit after the cut-off point of it being too late to try - they can’t process that if they continue, conditions will become extremely dangerous on their descent. They can only understand that their goal is the summit, the conditions are good right now, so that means they’re fine and should keep going.

Anyway. I was painting the wall when it hit. My friend heard me make a noise and asked what was wrong—I explained that I had just fallen through several portals. I realized that painting the wall fulfilled my entire hierarchy of needs, and was absolutely sure that I was on track to escaping the cycle of samsara if I just kept at it a little longer. I was thwarted on my journey towards nirvana only by the fact that I ran out of paint.

Seeking a surrogate act of humble service through which I might be redeemed and made human, I turned to unwashed dishes in the sink and took up the holy weapon of the sponge. I was partway through cleaning the blender when it REALLY hit.

You ever clean a blender? It’s a shockingly intimate act. They are complex tools. One of the most complicated denizens of the kitchen. Glass and steel and rubber and plastic. Fuck! They’ve got gaskets. You can’t just scrub ‘em and rinse them down like any other piece of shit dish. You’ve got to dissemble them piece by piece, groove by sensitive groove, taking care to lavish the spinning blades with cautious attention. There’s something sensual about it. Something strangely vulnerable.

As I stood there, turning the pieces over in my hands, I thought about all the things we ask of blenders. They don’t have an easy job. They are hard laborers taking on a thankless task. I have used them so roughly in my haste for high-density smoothies, pushing them to their limits and occasionally breaking them. I remembered the smell of acrid smoke and decaying rubber that filled the kitchen in the break room the last time I tried to make a smoothie at work—the motor overtaxed and melted, the gasket cracked and brittle. Strawberry slurry leaked out of it like the blood of a slain animal.

Was this blender built to last? Or was it doomed to an early grave in some distant landfill by the genetic disorder of planned obsolescence? I didn’t know, and was far too high to make an educated guess. But I knew that whatever care and tenderness and empathy I put into it, the more respect for the partnership of man and machine, the better it would perform for me.

This thought filled me with a surge of affection. However long its lifespan, I wanted it to be filled with dignity and love and understanding. I thought: I bet no one has hugged this blender before. And so I lifted it from its base.