Three Cups of Deceit: How Greg Mortenson, Humanitarian Hero, Lost His Way by Jon Krakauer Page B

to a close. But he returned to Afghanistan in June 2007 to conduct research for his doctoral thesis, and spent fifteen months there. For ten of those months he lived with the Kyrgyz in the Pamir, 13,000 feet above sea level, mostly in the camps of Abdul Rashid Khan.
    While traveling to and from the high country, he encountered people in the lower reaches of the Wakhan Corridor whom he had met in 2006, when he ’ d visited the western end of the Wakhan with Sarfraz. Many of these folks — Wakhi villagers, for the most part — assumed he was still working for Dr. Greg, but “ I was quick to disabuse them, ” Callahan says. They nevertheless deduced that he must know how to contact Mortenson, and they weren ’ t bashful about asking Callahan to forward messages, most of them gripes about CAI schools in the lower Wakhan that remained empty after construction was completed, or schools that had been “ built in the wrong place. ”
    The cause of the latter problem, says Callahan, was that villages had “ learned to game the system. ” They understood that if they told Sarfraz or Dr. Greg a woeful story and begged for a school, CAI might build one for them. “ The effect was school-building willy-nilly, ” Callahan explains. The location of existing government schools wasn ’ t taken into consideration. “ It was just kind of, build a school here, build a school there. Nobody objected. Everyone was willing to grab any kind of development with both hands. ”
    Acting on the complaints he ’ d received, in September 2007 Callahan emailed a message to Mortenson:
 
At the risk of sounding like I ’ m meddling in CAI business (in truth, I ’ m busy enough with my own affairs but this keeps coming up), I thought I ’ d offer some friendly advice and suggest that you plan a trip to the Wakhan at the earliest opportunity. What goodwill you and CAI enjoy is ebbing fast, with the problems in Sarhad and, now, Kret, and I ’ ve been hearing a lot of grumbling and criticism, plus unflattering rumors, about CAI. A visit from you would go a long way towards settling things.
I mention this not because it ’ s any concern of mine but because people know that (in theory) I can contact you and they often ask that I do. Specifically, Ghial Beg, the headman of Kret, is very keen to hear from you, as he ’ s very upset with the status of the school (built but not open, since the MoE [Ministry of Education] won ’ t certify it or whatever).  
I ’ m now living up with Abdul Rashid [Khan] (though on a short break here in Kabul to deal with visa issues). Although I don ’ t want to get involved in the school you ’ re planning to try and build at Mulk Ali in the Little Pamir [the Bozai project], I might be able to provide information if you need any.
     
    Mortenson responded by sending a sarcastic email to Sarfraz suggesting that Callahan was trying to discredit CAI out of spite, or that the complaints he forwarded were based on false rumors planted by the Aga Khan Development Network, a highly regarded foundation that had been establishing successful development projects in the Wakhan long before CAI arrived on the scene, and that Mortenson considered a rival.
     
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    CONSTRUCTION OF THE BOZAI GUMBAZ school began in the summer of 2008 under the supervision of CAI program director Sarfraz Khan. Ignoring Callahan ’ s recommendation to build a boarding school, Mortenson decided to erect a small, four-room masonry structure, which could be constructed much more easily and much faster. But transporting all the building materials for even a modest building to such a remote location presented enormous logistical challenges. By September 2009, most of these supplies — cement, windows, nails, roofing — had not yet arrived in Bozai, and the only tangible evidence of the school was the stone foundation marking its perimeter. In the final chapter of Stones into Schools , to ratchet up the narrative tension, Mortenson speculates