In our daily lives as Americans, how often do we truly feel that we are out of our element?
Midshipmen Grace Lane, Andrew Malick, Noah Sirianni, Spencer Crispell, Patrick McInerney, and I had the opportunity to feel just that participating in the Naval Academy’s Language, Regional Expertise, and Cultural immersion program (LREC). Led by Dr. Joe Thomas, director of the Stockdale Center for Ethical Leadership, and guide Dave Anderson, we set out for the remote Zanskar region of the Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir.
As future officers in the Navy or Marine Corps, we will be expected to lead in unfamiliar and ambiguous environments. Being exposed to a similar environment on a school trip helps to prepare us for later in our careers, when the stakes will likely be much higher. More specifically, our LREC sought to build our leadership abilities through cultural immersion and cross-cultural proficiency.
Americans likely associate the Jammu and Kashmir region solely with the Indo-Pakistani conflict and the decades of violence that has plagued the region. However, we quickly learned that there is so much more to the region than this conflict. The first thing that hits you when you step off the plane, other than the thin air, is the rugged beauty of the Himalayas. Driving through the town of Leh, you quickly see the confluence of the religious history of the region with the looming conflict—religious sites nestled next to army posts. Despite its remoteness, the region is surprisingly diverse. A walk to the city’s market, with stray dogs in tow, exposes you to multiple languages and shopkeepers from India, Tibet, and Nepal. Walking beyond the market will take you past Buddhist monasteries, Christian churches, and Islamic mosques.
While many of the locals speak some English, communication was often difficult. We were lucky to have our local guide Jigmat Lundup to help communicate, as well as to explain the cultural intricacies of various places we visited. His local expertise was immediately appreciated as we began our trek from Leh to the Zanskar Valley.
This trek began with a beautiful and (at times utterly terrifying) six-hour drive through the Himalayas to the city of Kargil, the site of the 1999 Kargil War. Once in Kargil, the heights which India and Pakistan battled over towered in front of our hotel balcony. This provided the perfect setting for Jigmat to give us his memories of the war, as well as a ground’s-eye explanation of the Kashmir conflict. By giving us the opinions of the people living there and explaining how it affects them daily, he was able to summarize the conflict and the emotions swirling around it more than any website or newspaper article ever could.
From Kargil, we set out for the regional capital of Zanskar, Padum. The drive to Padum puts into perspective just how remote and isolated the region is from the rest of India. Though just 120 miles long, the drive over the winding, washed out, dirt road took over 11 hours. Despite the stiff knees and the sweat (what’s A/C?), looking out the windows and seeing 23,00-plus foot peaks, shepherds herding yaks, and deep blue glacial lakes took the edge off.
Until about 40 years ago, the people of Zanskar had little contact with the rest of India. Despite the vast area the valley covers, it is accessible by only one dirt road. As a result of this remoteness, much of Zanskar remains unchanged. Many of the people still dress in traditional gowns and English speakers are hard to find. At 12,000 feet, the land in the valley is desolate, yet the people have mastered growing barley and alfalfa for subsistence. To supplement this, they tend herds of goats, sheep, and yak for milk. During the harsh winters when food is scarce, some of these animals are slaughtered for meat. This lack of meat in the summer months turned us into unwilling vegetarians, but we never went hungry as the host of our small hotel graciously cooked traditional meals for us.
Buddhism is central to understanding the culture of Zanskar. Every village, no matter how small, has some type of temple or monastery. We set out to some of these monasteries with Jigmat to learn about this vital part of the culture. We met “little monks,” boys young as seven training to be monks, who were eager to learn our names and to practice the English they were learning in school. Despite pledging their lives to peace, they still acted like young boys—shooting cap guns and hunting spiders is fun no matter how stoic you aspire to be.
In contrast to how picturesque this “untouched” part of the world nestled in the Himalayas may sound, signs of the 21st century and a changing way of life were everywhere. Understanding the culture of Zanskar cannot be achieved solely through religion or observing the daily lives of the people living there. To better understand life in the Zanskar Valley, you must understand the rapid changes occurring there. Some of these changes are objectively good, others are bad, and some are just as gray as the silty glacial water that flows through the Zanskar River. To witness these changes first-hand, we set off on a four-day rafting trip down the river.
Starting with the bad. Climate change is rapidly melting the glaciers that feed the Zanskar River. Jigmat explained that as the flow of the river changes, so will life around it. In addition to the glaciers, reduced snowfall every year decreases the amount of water available for both drinking and irrigation. Cultivating vital crops such as barley will become more difficult and grazing land for the herds of goat, sheep, and yak that the people depend on will become scarce. As the climate changes, people who have been self-sufficient for centuries may now become dependent on outside aid and imports—or may even have to move altogether.
It’s not all doom and gloom, however. As Zanskar becomes more accessible, more schools are opening throughout the valley and international aid agencies provide needed care at different times throughout the year. With this, major issues like infant mortality will improve, and more children will have access to the types of formal education that will be necessary as the outside world moves into the valley. We saw the fruits of this, as a young boy, who is growing up in a mud brick village of farmers, approached our rafting camp and spoke with us in fluent English.
Now for the gray. The Indian government is building a highway through the jagged mountains surrounding the Zanskar River. This highway will connect Zanskar to the rest of India like never before. The days of driving 11 hours on a dirt road as we did will soon be a thing of the past. The river has cut a canyon into the mountains that is steep and narrow, and much of the road must be blown out of the Himalayan rock. Though we had heard talk of the road while in Zanskar, it was just talk until we were showered with rock from a dynamite blast that was, to put it mildly, larger than expected.
In many ways, this highway is great for the people of Zanskar. Improved accessibility will bring tourism, and with it, jobs; one of our drivers excitedly talked of his plans to open a guesthouse to capitalize on the influx of outsiders. As cables are being laid along the road, it will also increase access to electricity and internet. But with the 21st century will come the blurring of a unique Himalayan culture, and bring in many parts of modern life that are unwanted. A woman in the village of Nyrak, speaking through our guide to Midshipman First Class Grace Lane, perhaps said it best, explaining that while she was excited for what the road would bring—better access to medical care for her young daughter—she dreaded the littering and alteration of their beautiful land that would come with it.
While the rafting immersed us in the culture of the region, it also kept us immersed in freezing water for much of the four-day trip. The rapids exceeded our expectations. Thankfully, our guides waited until after to tell us which rapids recently had claimed the lives of a kayaker or rafter. The adrenaline going down the river was near constant, reaching a fever pitch on the second day when the raft carrying all our gear flipped. Jumping from our raft to the overturned one, while trying helplessly to navigate the upside-down craft through the rapids, was a challenge. Luckily, we got it upright before the next round of rapids and eddy currents that surely would have sent most of our gear to the bottom. It’s amazing how fast six mids become experts in raft-flipping when all the food and dry sleeping bags are on the line.
We returned to the Academy with a new appreciation for our lives as Americans. We also learned how many parts of life, of being human, are universal. We were fortunate to see that again and again during the trip. Many takeaways will be directly applicable in our careers as officers in the Navy or Marine Corps. We all learned what it is like to function among people unlike ourselves, in a culture unlike our own. This is something that deployed sailors and Marines are expected to do daily. While we were far from mastering this, the experience will help us lead, operate, and plan for operations in cultures with which we are unfamiliar.
Finally, we want to thank all the people that made this life-changing experience possible. Without such generous donations from Naval Academy alumni and supporters, we would not have had this incredible opportunity to experience a unique and rapidly changing culture. Additionally, we are thankful for the tireless work of the Naval Academy International Programs Office, our team of American and Indian guides, and Dr. Joe Thomas, for ensuring a safe, seamless, and unforgettable expedition.
