About the Pain, Suffering, and Difficulty of a Porter's Life.
by Ganesh Bahadur Khatri
The days pass with so much suffering.
The snowy nights pass in so many caves.
With worry and pain in our hearts, we must walk.
Naked feet step uphill to cross rocky passes.
With loads like mountains on our backs, our hands place our sticks.
We carry uphill and downhill just to earn the hope of money.
How can a life submerged in debt escape here?
How can we forget the cries of our children?
On the edge of the trail, a fire burns from sticks and twigs.
The hot pan cries out - how good food tastes on the trail!
Our throats have swallowed our dhirdo and gundruk.
In ragged clothes our lives pass penniless.
With the monthly footsteps of debt, our houses and fields walk away.
The tears of this impoverished life have run together into a river.
When we can't fill our stomachs, we can't sleep at night.
Wandering, walking, searching for work without a single rupee
in our hands.
Little ones from wealthy homes excel in school.
Sons and daughters from poor homes learn by carrying the doko.
A porter's life -- Nepal's future -- is falling every day.
Why do the foreigners, who love Nepal, oppress us all this way?
by Bishnu Prasad Aryal
I am about to write a few words
In remembrance of trekking porters.
What is it like to be a porter?
Tell us about it.
Uphill and downhill, these high passes and meadows.
We porter to feed our children.
Us suffering porters -
No one cares for us!
We need a load on our backs
With the weight in the center of our heads.
"Hurry, hurry! Always carry!" they