Uncle Bill's legacy lives on.
I was impressed and moved by these writings of his:
"As most of you already know at Himalayan Imports we march to a different drummer and this is true with our pricing policy. Let me start with another of my many Nepal stories to help you better understand. In 1988 Yangdu and I spent two or three months in Nepal, visiting, going to our favorite temples, and laying groundwork for what was to become Himalayan Imports -- which should have been "exports." During that period I hired a young Brahmin man named Govinda to do some work for us. When he had completed his assignment I asked him how much pay he wanted for his work. He told me the amount in rupia which converted to about $35 USD. I said that was not enough for what he had done and handed him a hundred dollar bill. He started to cry, dropped to his knees and tried to kiss my feet! Remember, this was a Brahmin and I am an untouchable. I scolded him and told him to get up that it was only money. He looked up to me and said, "It may be only money to you but to me it means medicine for my sick daughter!" This is the story of Nepal and it is a sad and desperate one.
"I have seen children some as young as six toiling in cement and brick factories, their little bodies white with dust, only the eyes not dusty white, peering sadly out of the ghostlike forms. I have seen boys ten years old working in hotels 15 hours a day, seven days a week, cleaning, mopping, washing dishes, sleeping on the cement floor at night and happy to receive a couple of plates of dalbhat and a cup of tea per day and maybe five dollars per month. This is also true of the more commercial "aruns",
blacksmith shops. You will see a poor child gathering charcoal, pumping the handle on the forge, sitting on the dirt floor filing and sanding a blade, perhaps even trying to hammer some hot steel for a master kami who himself may be too old to work but does anyway because it is either that or starve.
"The last order I placed with old Kancha Kami was for six pieces of his Sherpa style which we had nicknamed the Kancha special. The price he asked amounted to about fifteen bucks per knife. I told him that I wanted him to take his time and do an
especially good job for which I would pay considerably more per knife. Kancha was very poor and sometimes had nothing, not even a potato in the house to eat. He was most grateful.
"Because of these deplorable conditions in Nepal, I know that I pay more than is necessary for our khukuris, try to employ errand boys, people to wrap and pack, and do odd jobs that are primarily "make work" efforts and I charge accordingly. I could get the khukuris for less, (much, much less if I were to use one of the major shops in India or Pakistan who have the capability to make our khukuris to our exact specifications and have offered to do so, telling us that we could claim the khukuris were made in Nepal and nobody would be the wiser -- except me!) reduce my price, sell more and make more because of volume but I choose not to do this because I like to be able to look at myself in the mirror when I shave. If I were to beat the kamis down to bottom dollar, toss out the little guys who help in between the shop and here, I would be contributing to the exploitation of some of the poorest and most desperate people in the world and I simply refuse to be a part of that."
-- BILL MARTINO 3/99
from
http://www.himalayan-imports.com/faq/Tradition.htm
Thanks, Uncle Bill and Happy Birthday!
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