Touchdown, Humla

Nine of us flew to Humla on a tiny charter plane – it was the only way we could be sure to secure a flight. This was high season, after all, and most of these 15 seat prop planes were on their way to tourist destinations like Lukla, which is the start of the Everest Base Camp trek. Others were flying to the eastern part of Nepal, having been booked months earlier to bring families home after the largest festival of the year, Dassain. And what was surely on everybody’s mind, which nobody particularly wanted to talk about, was that there was one fewer of these planes in Nepal after one of them crashed in the mountains just a week before we arrived in country.

There’s a saying in Nepal that pilots don’t fly through clouds, because in Nepal, clouds have rocks in them. We waited on the tarmac in the southern town of Nepalganj to board our little charter, and in the chaos of disembarking one flight and piling our stuff onto this little charter we all found time to comment – apropos of nothing, of course – on what an exceptionally fine, cloudless day it happened to be.

Because we were only nine, half the ground crew was loading up our backpacks and tents while the other half of the crew were removing six seats from the plane itself, and using that space to pile on bags of rice. Humla is as remote as it gets in Nepal (and therefore, the world) and every chance they get they fly rice and supplies up there. There is no train, after all, nor are there any roads. Rice gets dropped from the sky or it doesn’t get there at all.

We landed safely in Humla and tumbled off the small plane (not quite kissing the ground but our minds were there), and were greeted on the tarmac itself by Gyljan, our house manager, and one of my favorite people in the world, a girl named Priya.

If you happen to have read Little Princes, you might remember that Priya was one of only two girls in the original Little Princes Children’s Home. She was the older sister of the littlest boy, Raju. She had been living in Humla for two years now at our children’s home there. She was now perhaps 15 years old – impossible to know for sure in Nepal, even for the children. She was, at the moment, the only child at the children’s home. The rest were with their families for the holiday, even her little brother. Raju and Priya were true orphans, a rarity, but we had found an uncle for them in our search, and Raju had stayed a little longer in the village to be with him and his cousins.

Gyljan welcomed us with the traditional Buddhist prayer scarves, the golden silk khatas, while his wife put necklaces of marigolds around our necks and Priya gave us all tikkas, red dye mixed with rice on our foreheads. When she got to me she gave me a huge smile.

“Where’s Liz?” she asked, looking around, putting my tikka on absent-mindedly.

“Liz? What about me?”

“Yes Brother, I am happy to see you too!” she said. “And where is Liz?”

I had to explain that Liz was back in Kathmandu doing work for her company, Still the Sea, and she reacted to the news as an older sister might to a younger brother who had, as usual, just screwed something up. Farid had warned me that she was really looking forward to Liz, so I placated her with a handwritten letter that Liz had written her, and the promise that I would try to be as entertaining as possible.

A couple of men and hearty women took our packs and tents and started the walk up to where we would be staying, a guesthouse up the hill, and we followed. Humla was not a tourist destination, far from it, actually, and our group was gazed at in wonder by men and women and children in the dusty village. We stared right back and smiled at them and they smiled back too even when they were herding packs of goats and long-horned yak-like creatures that would have seemed to require their full attention.

(It seemed these were half bull, half yaks. Jackson Freed, age 11, emptied our minds with the question: “If they’re half-cow, can Hindus eat them?” to which Ellette responded “Only the non-cow half” which means that I’ll never be able to go into Starbucks again and hear “Half-caf” without thinking “half-calf”, so thanks for that, Ellette.)

For all the mind-blowing that a trip to Kathmandu can do, that city is nothing compared to where we were now in Humla. When we were first planning this trip I wasn’t sure if our group would accept the fact that this was going to be unlike anything they’d ever seen, or whether they would cling to the landing gears and ride our plane right back to civilization.

What I didn’t count on was this enthusiasm, respectful and delighted and far more composed than I was on my first trip. For the hundredth time, I was thankful for the adventurous folks we’d taken along for the ride. And our little three day trip was only just beginning.

By | 2018-01-19T21:05:38+00:00 October 19th, 2011|9 Comments


  1. Ryan Henkel October 19, 2011 at 2:59 pm - Reply

    Conor you are an amazing person and writer. I am always captivated by everything you write, plus I love what you are doing in Nepal. Just wish I could be there with you helping make a difference for those poor children. Good luck in Humla and I wish you safe travels.


  2. Marcy Prager October 23, 2011 at 5:35 am - Reply

    I would have kissed the ground coming off the plane!

  3. Graham Foulds August 14, 2012 at 1:51 am - Reply

    I have just finished reading little prince in 2 days flat … couldn’t put it down and tears as I read last few pages. I have 5 orphan children that I look after in Kathmandu and I know how heart rending it is to say goodbye, when I have to return to NZ. Have just spent 11 weeks at Jubing in the Solu Khumbu, much of that time at the school. What a truly wonderful part of the world. I look forward to keeping in touch with Next Generation Nepal, as I think it is an amazing thing you have achieved Connor.

  4. Tamara August 31, 2012 at 11:46 am - Reply

    Same here. I started reading Little Princes yesterday before bed (bad idea — was up late!), then finished reading it basically over breakfast, laughing half the time and tearing up the other half. Have been browsing the NGN website, have signed up for the newsletter and am wondering when I can fit in a 5-month volunteer gig at NGN and what professional skills I can offer (do you need a former elementary music teacher? gardener?) Thanks, Conor, for starting something so special. If you had helped even one child, one family, that would have been remarkable — but so many! 🙂

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