Following Krishna: Trading Places with the Guide for Two Weeks in the Himalaya

After three days, I grew used to watching Krishna’s casual small frame amble in front of me, never seeming to change pace on the uphills.

His hands stuck into his pockets to keep them warm seemed a nonchalant approach to the Annapurna Circuit, a climb from just above sea level through lush jungle hillsides into sparse alpine rocks and very little oxygen at over 17,000 feet at the world’s highest mountain pass, called Thorung La.

It occurred to me that both of us had mobile phones, and that both of us had become guides for one another. Krishna, to show me the way through the highest pass. Me, to offer my networks to Krishna so that he could build up not only his business, but his future, since he had nearly lost it all in two tremendous earthquakes in April.

What started out as a personal quest to see the highest points of the Himalaya, turned into a personal quest to see what could be done to help emerging market entrepreneurs leverage networks and devices to strengthen their business goals.

It was pretty fascinating.

Krishna leading me through Upper Mustang, the “Tibetan” region of Nepal.

First, Krishna is not a sherpa. Sherpas are a distinct group of peole who have grown up and worked around Everest in Eastern Nepal. Krishna is a registered guide, but for the purpose of the metaphor, Krishna is kind of a sherpa.

Krishna is 31 years old. On April 25, his family — particularly his aunt and his brother — was caught in the earthquakes.

The first was registered as a 7.5, but later established by independent sources as much stronger, at 7.8 on the Richter scale. There was also a secondary aftershock a couple of days later, at around 7.1 on the Richter scale, which further damaged houses and buildings.

9,000 people died.

Krishna’s brother, 14, had been sent by the family to a flour mill to pick up a kind of flour that Nepalese people use to celebrate a festival for families.

Just south of Kathmandu, in the province of Ghorka, Krishna remembers the hillsides exploding. And his house falling to pieces.

Waiting for food in Upper Pisang, at a new hotel built only five months ago. The off-season, and a slowing trickle of tourists after the April earthquakes, has meant very few people stopping by to eat and rest. Krishna and I sat here to discuss his business and the prospects for the future.

“The hills blew up. It was like huge explosions on the hills. The whole side of the mountains flew down and landed in the river,” Krishna tells me, while we are sitting on a stone bench near Tal, a flat township on the Mayasinghde River, about 40 km inside of the Annapurna Sanctuary.

We were resting on our first day of trekking.

A boulder rolled into the river, crushing people fleeing the earthquake. The river, he said, was littered with bodies, floating after being subsumed by waves of water and debris.

A woman near the village he was in, her head exposed and her midsection nearly crushed under the weight of a large rock, called for help. He and several men tried to free her. They worked for a few minutes and finally unpinned the woman, and took her to a hospital. She lived.

His brother died.

His house disappeared under its frame. For a few weeks in April and May, he and several families lived in a tent. They are all gone now, moved into their own temporary shelters. Krishna’s house is still not built, short of a few timber roof frames and the semblance of a square house.

The family cannot buy any materials to build it, while a border blockade continues in Raxaul in the south. This blockade, in force since October, is preventing any imports of fuel, timber, or cement for pouring foundations.

Nepal is in a state of emergency, and also it is in a state of suspended animation. There are not enough resources to house people, keep them warm, or administer aid, and despite long and grueling negotiations with other countries, the Nepalese government has yet to really secure any meaningful aid program for the crisis.

Using the Network

Krishna has his freelance work as a guide to support his family and some friends.

His process is unique, but it also reminded me of how I built up a social web community.

While surrounded by beauty, taking in the sights of the Himalaya, I learned a little about how Krishna works to build his business: Instagram, Facebook, and a blog. I think it’s how the majority of emerging markets workers are building up their businesses.

“Take this for my Instagram profile.” Krishna picks up a friend on our trail walk.

Find people who have a following, friend and like them, and continue having conversations with them, until they bring you leads and develop your business with you.

He’s doing all of this on the mobile phone. One customer at a time.

Walking In Line: One Step at a Time

Throughout our trek, Krishna took photos and, sometimes in the middle of a walk, pulled out his phone and answered queries and solicited guiding requests on the go. While walking the roughly 65 kilometers from Tal to the Thorong La Base Camp, I watched as Krishna managed and organized a trek for a young woman who wished to walk the Everest Base Camp circuit. All on his phone.

It occurred to me that the phone is not only a lifeline to business, but it’s the medium device that brings together experience, people, commerce, and opportunity.

This may seem obvious if you are an entrepreneur and trying to “leverage” this opportunity by developing a killer product and pushing it out like a software build to the masses, who you believe are just salivating to get their hands on your goods or service.

But it looks really different on the ground in an emerging economy, when an Android phone is the only lifeline you have to your business goals. I was struck by it.

It transformed the tourist experience of taking pictures for memories, into a strategy to secure more customers for Krishna. And it developed my practice of visiting a country in order to discover the country into one where it almost felt like my visit was a loan of my networks to a person who had none.

This isn’t San Francisco, folks. Walking through terrain like this, building a business. With just a phone.

The process was simple throughout the hike. I would take a picture. Krishna would take a similar picture. Every night, when we reached a hotel or a lodge, we would upload these pictures together and tag each other. I would offer pointers on how to manage and run an instagram account. I would introduce him to Facebook friends and he would have chats with him.

What was the result:

An understanding for both of us about how to tell a story.

He learned how to tell his story in new ways.

I began to learn I had an interesting story too.

At the end we got understanding:

Beauty. Peace. An appreciation for people and the world we live in. No matter how tough or fragile.

Images like this were sure to capture the imagination of our friends and the people in our networks.

And a longing to return. This image above is one of many that stick in my mind and are a kind of peaceful meditation for me.

I always think about views like this. I remember what it was like to stand there and see it for the first time.

And that first time is where I will constantly strive to return, whether I am back in Nepal, or in an airport lounge in Hong Kong, or standing in a queue for coffee at a busy New York coffee shop.

We are taken by our longing and our curiosity to places and people we need to meet, and then we carry them with us.

Not as sherpas. But as guides.