Life after death: Sherpa widows eye Everest to fight taboo

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In this photo taken Saturday, March 30, 2019, Nima Doma, 34, left, and Furdiki Sherpa, 43, perform morning exercises as they train to summit Mount Everest, in Kathmandu, Nepal. (AP)
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In this photo taken Saturday, March 30, 2019, Nima Doma, 34, right, and Furdiki Sherpa, 43, perform morning exercises as they train to summit Mount Everest, in Kathmandu, Nepal. (AP)
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In this photo taken Saturday, March 30, 2019, Nima Doma, 34, left, and Furdiki Sherpa, 43, train to summit Mount Everest, in Kathmandu, Nepal. (AP)
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(FILES) This file picture taken on May 21, 2018 shows discarded climbing equipment and rubbish scattered around Camp 4 of Mount Everest. (AFP)
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In this photo taken Saturday, March 30, 2019, Nima Doma, 34, right, and Furdiki Sherpa, 43, stand for photographs after their morning exercise as they train to summit Mount Everest, in Kathmandu, Nepal. (AP)
Updated 22 April 2019
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Life after death: Sherpa widows eye Everest to fight taboo

  • Everest, which straddles the Nepal-China border, has been climbed by nearly 5,000 people since it was first scaled by New Zealander Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay Sherpa in 1953
  • The numbers make sense given women are not encouraged to climb but are groomed to keep house, said Nima Doma

KATMANDU: Two Nepali Sherpa women hope to conquer Mount Everest next month, finishing off the job their husbands started in a bid to empower fellow widows and prove there is life after death.
In a conservative country — which routinely elevates men over women — widowhood can confine a bereaved wife to an even lower life of hostility, discrimination and outright abuse.
So the two women hope that by scaling the world’s highest mountain they can upturn perceptions about a widow’s worth and complete the unfinished ascent of their husbands, who died working as guides for foreign mountaineers.
“I felt like I had lost everything when he died. I couldn’t think or function like a normal human being. I had become insane,” said Furdiki Sherpa, as she readied for her big trip.
With a photo of her dead husband alongside, Furdiki sifted through a giant duffel bag crammed with climbing gear, from crampons to carabiners, boots to ropes.
It was while fixing ropes for his clients that her husband died on the 8,850-meter (29,035-ft) mountain in April 2013.
A year later, Nima Doma Sherpa’s husband was killed along with 15 other Sherpas in an avalanche near the base camp.
The grief of losing a partner — let alone sole breadwinner and father to their children — was further compounded, they said, by the social stigma that comes with being a widow.
“There is a huge difference between how society treats married women and widowed women,” Furdiki, a mother of three, told the Thomson Reuters Foundation in her cramped living room.
“If I hang out with my friends, especially men, that’s a problem. If I try to have fun, that’s a problem. If I ride pillion, that’s a problem ... Neighbours take photos, call me immoral and loose, and try to shame me,” said the 43-year-old.
Nima Doma’s situation has been no different.
“The taboo is still very much alive,” she said.
“Many people, even today, think we should be confined to our homes, restrict ourselves only to household work. That is just wrong,” said the 35-year-old widow.
Widows in South Asia are generally expected to mourn until the end of their lives, renouncing colorful clothes, jewelry, rich and spicy food, and even festivals as they are deemed inauspicious, say women’s rights experts.
According to The Loomba Foundation, a widows’ rights charity, widows in developing countries are routinely disinherited, enslaved or evicted by their in-laws, accused of witchcraft or forced to undergo abusive sexual rituals.

’WE CAN DO IT TOO’
Tired of conforming, Furdiki and Nima Doma — who like most Sherpa, go by their first name — decided to fight back after they met at an event in the capital of Katmandu in 2017.
“We realized we are not alone, all of us are facing these things. The two of us thought: ‘Why not break this tradition of mistreatment ... and actually change things? What’s wrong if we step out and live life?’,” said Nima Doma.
That meeting paved the way for their “Two Widow Expedition.”
“We decided that our slogan would be ‘We can do it too’ to tell people that widows can do anything,” said Nima Doma as her two children played in their dimly-lit home.
The women are not related but belong to the Himalayan ethnic group of Sherpas, who are renowned for endurance and an ability to operate at high altitudes.
While many Sherpa men risk their lives to help paying climbers to the highest Himalayan peaks, hundreds work as porters hauling up tents, ladders, food and oxygen cylinders during the main climbing season from March to May.
Like Furdiki and Nima Doma, many Sherpa women have been widowed by Everest.
Since the year 1900, nearly 100 Sherpas have died — about a third of all Everest deaths — according to the Himalayan Database, an archive tracking major Nepali climbs.
That is why many like Lily Thapa, founder of Nepal’s Women for Human Rights, are pinning hopes on this expedition to motivate other widows and help change attitudes. “This will encourage other women, especially widows,” she said.

’REST IN PEACE’
Furdiki and Nima Doma were expected to reach the Everest base camp by April 22, from where they will begin their ascent into a predominantly male domain.
Everest, which straddles the Nepal-China border, has been climbed by nearly 5,000 people since it was first scaled by New Zealander Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay Sherpa in 1953, according to a post by Everest blogger Alan Arnette.
About 550 of them were women.
The numbers make sense given women are not encouraged to climb but are groomed to keep house, said Nima Doma.
Attempting their Everest dream was an uphill battle.
With no steady income, zero climbing experience and deep family reluctance — now overcome — the two widows faced a tough choice: raise awareness or stay with loved ones.
They chose Everest.
“Nima and I were too determined. We both have the same vision, the same resolve. We are two bodies, one heart,” said Furdiki.
For six months, they traveled Nepal — home to eight of the world’s 14 highest mountains — to raise more than $40,000.
The money helped them get rigorous mountaineering training, which included a series of trekking and wall climbing courses. Both are now certified trekking guides.
In November, they successfully climbed Island Peak and Chulu Far East Peak, both more than 6,000 meters (19,700 feet) high.
“We are confident that we will make it to the top. But that is not the end goal. We have to come back down,” said Nima Doma.
After their descent, they plan to launch a charity to raise funds and help widows learn new skills.
“If I can empower widows through this expedition somehow, I think my husband’s soul will rest in peace,” she said.
“I’m sure he would be very proud of me.”


In southeast Pakistan, Ramadan brings Hindus and Muslims closer

Updated 11 March 2026
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In southeast Pakistan, Ramadan brings Hindus and Muslims closer

MITHI: Partab Shivani, a Hindu in Muslim-majority Pakistan, has fasted on and off during Ramadan for years, but this time is different as he practices abstinence for the entire holy month.
Every year, he and his friends in the southeastern city of Mithi arrange iftar, when Muslims break their daily fast, to foster peace and solidarity between the two religions.
“I believe we need to promote interfaith harmony. First, we are humans — religions came later,” Shivani, a 48-year-old social activist, told AFP, adding that he also reads the teachings of the Buddha.
“His message is about peace and ending war. Peace can spread through solidarity and by standing with one another. Distance only widens the gap between people,” he added.
Ninety-six percent of Pakistan’s 240 million people are Muslim. Just two percent are Hindu, most of them living in rural areas of Sindh province where Mithi is located.
In Mithi itself, most of the 60,000 inhabitants are Hindu.
Many of the city’s Hindus also observe Ramadan and iftar has become a social gathering where people from both faiths happily participate.
“This has been a wonderful tradition of ours for a very long time,” said Mir Muhammad Buledi, a 51-year-old Muslim friend who attended Shivani’s iftar gathering.
“It is a beautiful example of harmony between the two communities.”
Like brothers
Discrimination against minorities runs deep in Pakistan.
Following the end of British rule in South Asia in 1947, the subcontinent was partitioned into mainly Hindu India and Muslim-majority Pakistan.
That triggered widespread religious bloodshed in which hundreds of thousands were killed and millions displaced.
According to the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan, freedom of religion or belief is under constant threat, with religiously motivated violence and discrimination increasing yearly.
State authorities, often using religious unrest for political gain, have failed to address the crisis, the independent non-profit says.
But such tensions are absent in Mithi.
“I am a Hindu but I keep all the fasts during this month,” said Sushil Malani, a local politician. “I feel happy standing with my Muslim brothers.
“We celebrate Eid together as well. This tradition in the region is very old.”
Restaurants and tea stalls are closed across Pakistan during Ramadan.
Ramesh Kumar, a 52-year-old Hindu man who sells sweets and savoury items outside a Muslim shrine, keeps his push cart covered and closed until iftar.
“There is no discrimination among us if someone is Muslim or Hindu. I have been seeing this since my childhood that we all live together like brothers,” he said.
Muslim shrine, Hindu caretaker
Locals say Mithi’s peaceful religious coexistence can be traced to its remote location, emerging from the sand dunes of the Tharparkar desert, which borders the modern Indian state of Rajasthan.
Cows — considered sacred in Hinduism — roam freely in Mithi city, as they do in neighboring India.
At two Sufi Muslim shrines in the middle of the city, Hindu families arrange meals, bringing fruit, meals and juices for their Muslim neighbors to break their fasts.
“We respect Muslims,” said Mohan Lal Malhi, a Hindu caretaker of one of the shrines.
Mohan said his parents and elders taught him to respect people regardless of religion or color, and the traditions pass from one generation to the next.
Local residents said both communities consider their social relationships more important than their religious identity.
“You will see a (Sikh) gurdwara, a mosque, and a shrine standing side by side here,” Mohan said. “The atmosphere of this area teaches humanity.”