Everybody will have forgotten about Nepal and I would like to do something beautiful

about their courage

Kathmandu

He hitchhiked on a Tata truck filled with big bags of cotton. That was in 1973. As the truck ascended, it started becoming cold.

Wrapped in his sleeping bag he peeked to see where he was and saw the sunset, then there were millions of terraces, white and orange houses with thatched roofs and the Himalayas in the background. Mesmerised he wondered, ‘Where am I?’ There were no charters back then and he was not a hippie. He was a 20-year-old traveller looking for adventure.

Little did he know that he was about to fall in love and become a storyteller. His love resonates in his work — Honey Hunters, Himalaya or Caravan, Himalayan Gold Rush and many books/films/documentaries and photographs. He is Eric Valli.

“I came here and fell in love with the country and an American woman (Diane Summers, his wife), who taught me my English in many ways. We stayed in Nepal. Trekking to Everest and Annapurna was not enough, so I learnt Nepali and went to more rural places.”

That was when he published his first book. “I didn’t know I wanted to become a film-maker or a photographer.”

So you came here as a tourist? The moment he hears this question, Valli gives an exasperated expression and says, “No, no not a tourist, I don’t like this word, I came here as a traveller.

I was in Afghanistan for a year, I couldn’t stay there, thus the journey to Nepal. I have never been a tourist. I like to discover the depth of a country, so I dive into its culture and lived for three years in Dolpo.”

And there is no reason why a French cabinet-maker from Dijon fell in love with Nepal. He just did, and still is.

More than just work

Somehow Valli’s works speak to you, there will be fragments that represent you as a human — your virtues and vices. But he is accused of being romantic, which “I prefer being called rather than cynical”. Your films are filled with hope... “yes I would think so even if I am not kind of always hopeful”. Yet he doesn’t make films for the audience. “I don’t make films keeping in mind the audience. I see something and I think it is important to make a testimony of it.”

Who do you make your films for then? He thinks for a while and strays off the topic (unconsciously buying time for an answer), then asks himself aloud ‘Who do I do it for’ and says, “Nobody has asked me this question before. I think it has to be done, I think Himalaya for instance, after my death which I think will be soon, will be seen as something not only entertaining, but as a document of the life of these people.”

It seems he always wanted to do what he is doing, but nothing was planned — it happened. His passion chose him. “I am not an intellectual, I work instinctively. I heard about honey hunters in the mountains. I tried to find them but couldn’t.

It took me one-and-a-half years to find the guy and one day I met him. He was filled with honour and I knew it was him.  I asked him if he could teach me and take me to the mountains to harvest honey. He said ‘No one comes with me to the mountains’; he drinks all my tea and Nebico biscuits and walks away. I went to meet him again, found he has no son to carry the legacy. I persuaded him and he said something in his rough language to get a chicken.”

Their one-and-half year journey started.Suddenly he says, “You ask me a lot of questions.” He was in China before this and gave a lot of interviews, which made him write in his notebook. He opens the diary flips the pages, finds the mark and reads — ‘All these people asking me so many questions about my life... when in fact I only live my life the way I wanted to.’

“The only difference compared to people who ask me questions is — when I see an adventure, I say yes.” Heading to the unknown makes him feel alive.

Just like that the unknown answer is unveiled. He makes his films for himself, “It’s me... you are right...” amazed 62-year-old traveller smiles.