Three Cups of Tea
January 31, 2009 by Julia King
On the cover of the book, in small print at the bottom of the page, is a quote from Tom Brokaw: “Thrilling…proof,” it reads, “that one ordinary person, with the right combination of character and determination, really can change the world.”
It’s a reassuring thought, this notion that an average person can change the world, but it’s not exactly the story that unfolds in Three Cups of Tea, the New York Times bestseller by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin. Instead, Three Cups of Tea tells the story of an extraordinary man (Mortenson), one willing to endure almost anything to accomplish his mission.
Mortenson’s mission is peace, and his strategy is to provide education for the poorest children in some of the poorest parts of Pakistan and Afghanistan, far-flung villages that despite their remoteness are desperately intertwined with modern Western life.
I read much of the book sweaty and out of breath, pedaling my stationary bike alone in my living room, exerting energy for no one’s benefit but my own — as if to punctuate the fact of my existential stinginess. Mortenson’s life is one of sacrifice and tremendous effort spent for others (although that’s not his claim; he would say that in the end his work benefits everyone, including him).
The beauty of this story is that it never appears easy. Too frequently, those who accomplish amazing things carry out their tasks with what looks like effortlessness. Not here. Three Cups of Tea is a journey into rugged land and harsh conditions. And it is a story of contrast, of a man straddling two different worlds (one week he’s walking the shiny marble floors of the Pentagon, and the next week he’s bouncing along dusty, craggy mountain roads in a beat-up jeep). Ironically, it is the thorny details of Mortenson’s projects — and of his exhausting schedule — that make it all so believable, so possible.
Like many Americans, I hadn’t paid much attention to places like Afghanistan until September 11. Since then, however, I’ve developed a strong appetite (possibly an unhealthy one) for dismal Middle Eastern focused literature (both fiction and non-fiction) like The Kite Runner, A Thousand Splendid Suns, Reading Lolita in Tehran, Iran Awakening, etc. – my desire to solve the puzzle of Islamic extremist repression forever nudging me back to the page.
Three Cups of Tea doesn’t shy away from the darker aspects of these regions, but neither does it define such places (and the myriad people who inhabit them) by the least common human denominator, by anti-western jihadists, or by beheaders. Mortenson and Relin take us across the globe and introduce us to men and women we can relate to, men and women – and children – who are on “our” side, meaning the side of compassion and tolerance and mutual understanding.
In short: read it. If you’re looking for something that makes sense amidst the chaos and the jumble we’ve come to know as the “Middle East” (however imperfect the term), here is a place to start. Here is a way. I’m late to this book (it was published in 2006), but the work it represents is still in its infancy.
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