Last Tuesday, we started our ministry here in Nepal with the trek of a lifetime. A backing expedition to the Chepang, an isolated, former cave dwelling people who live in the mountainous Himalayan foothills near Manahari (Makawanpur district). Until recently(~past ten years) this people group had been unexposed to the Gospel. Until we arrived, they had never met or seen Americans. Our mission was to go met these people, to encourage this budding church, and to share their story.
This is their story.
Unreached groups are unreached for a reason. The Chepang are no different. Our trip started with a 5 1/2 hour van ride out of smog ridden Kathmandu, and into a small town outside Manahari. We spent the night sleeping on the concrete floor of a one room church, with a tin roof and chicken wire windows. The following morning we crammed at least 15 of us (Team Undefined, Team Gladiators, our lead guide Pastor Mithun Praja, and our 15 yr old translator Sameer) in a tiny taxi (Tuk-Tuk) and drove to the trail head.
The trek to the first village was 5-6 hours, first following a river deep into the hills(or what the Nepali refer to as hills). There were several river crossings, which filled our chacos(sandals) with rocks. The farther away we got from civilization the cleaner and more incredible nature became. Our guides said the water flowing in the hills was comparable to mineral water, and even standing in a knee high rivers you could still, clearly, see the rocky bottom. There are simply no words to describe the beauty of this slice of creature.
Then we began to climb up and up and up. The path was incredibly steep, it would’ve easily put the man hike and most any American trail to shame. As we climbed, the surrounding majesty of the mountain ranges became more and more apparent. Physically it was gruelling, especially with backpacks. Pastor Mithun recruited locals to help bear the burden. Several members surrendered their packs. It was still slow going, but moral was high,
Our guides, were nothing short of incredible. We were on their home turf, and they rocked it. It was unbelievable, these 5’5″ (maybe) 120lbs (dripping wet) men climbed with our packs, without water, or without hardly breaking a sweat. It was tough but we kept it fun. We cracked jokes, we sang songs, and our guides let us stop to swim in the river. When it was all said and done we arrived at our destination: a single room, rock, wood and mud church on the top of a mountain (or that was it felt like). They rolled out a thin red carpet to cover to the dirt floor. We were wet, we were exhausted, and we had arrived.
While unloading our gear, the local children emerged from the woodwork peering in the windows, silently, at the first white people they’d ever seen. Someone on our team produced an inflatable ball and we headed up, even higher to this little flat field and played with the children. This was one of those things you dream about. Exhaustion melted. The view was incredible. The joy of the children spilled over and became ours.
Later we had dinner. There is much to be said about the food, But I’ll save that for later blogs. It was humbling. One day down, 4 more days of trekking to go. It was only the beginning of Christ revealing what He had in store.
