Three Cups of Deceit: How Greg Mortenson, Humanitarian Hero, Lost His Way (8 page)

*
*
*

Although the first statement (about CAI
’
s shaky finances) is true, the latter statement is not. According to CAI financial records, Mortenson
’
s CAI salary for 2002 was $41,200, plus $12,087 in employee benefits and deferred compensation; in 2003 his salary increased to $47,197, plus $6,547 in benefits. Furthermore, since 1995, he had been quietly drawing a stipend amounting to $21,792 per year from the AHF Hoerni/Pakistan Fund in addition to his CAI salary package.
⁵
All told, at the time Mortenson claimed he was being paid $28,000, his annual compensation actually exceeded $75,000. One could make a strong case that Mortenson deserved every penny of it, given how hard he worked and what a crucial role he played in all aspects of CAI
’
s operation. What
’
s disturbing is not the amount Mortenson was paid, but that he lied about it
—
and that dozens of such falsehoods are strewn throughout the book.

In any case, by the fall of 2003, CAI
’
s financial difficulties had ended. On April 6 of that year, Mortenson appeared on the cover of
Parade
magazine. Inside, an article titled
“
He Fights Terror
With
Books
”
described how Greg found himself in Korphe after retreating from K2 in 1993. After the Korphe villagers nursed him back to health, Mortenson repaid their kindness by building them a school, and in the years that followed he constructed dozens of other schools in northern Pakistan and neighboring Afghanistan. These schools, the article explained, helped to counter the influence of fundamentalist
madrassas
:

“
In the past 10 years,
”
says Mortenson,
“
more than 80,000 Pakistani and Afghani boys who received hard-line religious instruction in these
madrasas
were fed directly into the ranks of the Taliban. Islamic extremists know they can use these religious schools as an effective vehicle for recruiting terrorists. The West has so far failed to recognize that offering an alternative by building secular schools is the cheapest and most effective way of combating terrorism.
”

Thirty-four million copies of the magazine were distributed across the country. The article included a mailing address, an email address, and a toll-free number for Central Asia Institute. Before publication, Mortenson had hired extra staff and set up a phone bank to answer calls to handle the anticipated response. Within a few days, says one of those new employees,
“
We needed a wheelbarrow for all the mailbags stuffed with checks arriving at the office.
”
By the end of 2003, the organization had received more than a million dollars in donations. The CAI board of directors (which by then consisted of Mortenson and three loyal admirers) raised Mortenson
’
s annual salary to $112,000, and Mortenson announced an ambitious plan to use the
Parade
donations to expand CAI
’
s programs in Afghanistan.

In the autumn of 2003, Mortenson flew to Afghanistan with funds to construct half a dozen schools in the least-developed corner of that nation, the mysterious Wakhan Corridor. According to
Three Cups of Tea
(pages 314-316), Mortenson enjoyed a long conversation with the king of Afghanistan during this trip, aboard a Pakistan International Airlines flight to Kabul:

The king sat in the window seat. Mortenson recognized him from pictures on the old Afghan currency he
’
d seen for sale in the bazaars. At eighty-nine, Zahir Shah looked far older than his official portrait as he stared out the window of the PIA 737 at the country he
’
d been exiled from for nearly thirty years.

Aside from the king
’
s security detail and a small crew of stewardesses, Mortenson was alone on the short flight from Islamabad to Kabul with Afghanistan
’
s former monarch. When Shah turned away from the window, he locked eyes with Mortenson across the aisle.

“
As-Salaam Alaaikum
, sir,
”
Mortenson said.

“
And to you, sir,
”
Shah replied.

When Mortenson told the king that he was en route to northern Afghanistan
’
s seldom-visited Wakhan region to build schools, Zaher Shah patted the empty seat beside him and invited Greg to sit there. For the remainder of the flight they discussed the remoteness of the Wakhan, the recent invasion of Iraq, and how the latter was diverting crucial American resources and personnel from Afghanistan.

Zahir Shah placed his hand, with its enormous lapis ring, on Mortenson
’
s.
“
I
’
m glad one American is here at least,
”
he said.
“
The man you want to see up north is Sadhar Khan. He
’
s a
mujahid
. But he cares about his people.
”

“
So I
’
ve heard,
”
Mortenson said.

Zahir Shah pulled a calling card out of the breast pocket of the business suit he wore under his striped robe and called for one of his security guards to bring his valise. Then the king held his thumb to an inkpad and pressed his print on the back of the card.
“
It may be helpful if you give this to
Commandhan
Khan,
”
he said.
“
Allah
be
with you. And go with my blessing.
”

It
’
s a memorable account, layered with vivid particulars. It also happens to be fictitious. His Majesty Zaher Shah died in 2007, but when I contacted a close associate of the king to verify Mortenson
’
s story, he forwarded my query to Mostapha Zaher, the monarch
’
s grandson and successor. Zaher
’
s reply was immediate and unequivocal:

I wish to categorically state, and in no uncertain terms, that my late grandfather had
NEVER
 
taken the mentioned flight PIA 737 from Islamabad to Kabul
 
during the Holy Month Ramadhan of 2003. As a matter of fact, he has
NEVER
traveled on any PIA flights from 1973 to 2007, the year of his passing away [emphasis by Zaher]. The information provided by the person [Mortenson] is simply not factual.

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“
It was very important for him to test people, to test their loyalty,
”
explains another staffer who was brought on around the same time.
“
He played a lot of mind games. His management style was to divide and conquer. He
’
d lean forward, tell you how important you were to him,
then
badmouth other staff so you felt like he was confiding in you. But the staff talked to each other, so we learned he was badmouthing each of us to everyone else. We were all like,
‘
You
’
re kidding! That
’
s what he told you?
’

“
Working for Greg was like being on a roller coaster,
”
this ex-employee continues.
“
One day he was telling you how great you were, and then for no apparent reason he would give you the icy treatment
…
. We went through a two- or three-month period where Greg wasn
’
t communicating with the staff at all.
”

Three Cups of Tea
never mentions this aspect of Mortenson
’
s personality, although it frequently refers to his chronic tardiness. David Relin, Mortenson
’
s co-author, writes in the introduction,
“
During the two years we worked together on this book, Mortenson was often so maddeningly late for appointments that I considered abandoning the project.
”
On page 39, Mortenson
’
s mother says,
“
Greg has never been on time in his life
…
. Ever since he was a boy, Greg has always operated on African time.
”
In 1998, Mortenson showed up three weeks late for a rendezvous in China with his friend Scott Darsney, who was kept waiting in Beijing until Greg finally appeared. Mortenson
’
s aversion to punctuality is presented in
Three Cups
as if it were an endearing quirk. To a number of people who worked with Mortenson over the years, however, his habitual lateness
—
like his habitual lying
—
seemed more pathological than quirky.