The following is our final installment in a series of excerpts from the new book "Facebook Fairytales: Modern-Day Miracles to Inspire the Human Spirit." This chapter tells the story of how one man's creation of Facebook group helped the Nepali Ski Team find a missing teammate.
When sixteen-year-old French student Tom Baraize was recruited to act as liaison officer for the Nepali Ski Team at the World Ski Championships in February 2009, he had no idea of the drama that would ensue.
Hailing from the quiet community of Lyon, in southeastern... France, roughly a ninety-minute drive from Val d'Isère—the legendary ski area in the French Alps where the Championships would take place—Tom was excited and prepared for his many responsibilities to follow.
The Nepal Alpine skiing team, he was told, had been founded in 1997 by British businessman and former skier Richard Morley at the request of the Himalayan country's then ruler, King Birendra. Tom would report to Richard, the team's coach, and help him tend to the practical needs of the three skiers competing: their star, Shyam Dhakal; their number two, Subash Khatri; and their final and youngest recruit, sixteen-year-old Uttam Rayamajhi.
Tom, who was quadrilingual—speaking English, French, German, and Spanish—was assigned two significant tasks. His first and most important priority was to help the organization committee welcome the international teams; his second was to set up and manage the Nepali team's website.
Arriving in Val d'Isère, Tom was instantly swept up in the frenetic energy palpable at every turn. There were races, events, music, parties, food, and throngs of fans, skiers, and workers buzzing around the cool, sun-soaked slopes. It was a sixteen-year-old's dream job, and Tom could hardly believe his good fortune in landing it.
Tom hit it off immediately, not only with the team members, but also Coach Richard Morley. And as he ran around frantically dotting every "i" and crossing every "t" for the team—from transporting their gear to races and securing the proper documentation to getting them new ski equipment when theirs wasn't authorized—his friendships with the team members were cemented even further. Tom oversaw and chatted with them by day, drank with them in the evenings, and—ultimately—became part of their intimate family.
When the Ski Championships finally came to a close—after two weeks of working and playing hard—Tom departed from the team's base in Les Arcs to return home to Lyon, promising to stay in touch with his newfound friends. They discussed reuniting for a ski trip or even to work on a film about the team. Tom felt gratified and lucky to have experienced this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Nearly two months passed, and in April—back at home—Tom found a note from Richard in his e-mail in-box. Perhaps he's writing to get together or to plan our ski trip, Tom speculated, energized at the thought. He opened the message at once:
Alarmed by word of his friend's disappearance, Tom hastily logged on to Facebook to reach out to Richard. They'd communicated via the social networking site often, and Tom knew that Richard would likely be on Facebook more often than on his regular e-mail, since it was the fastest and most efficient way of reaching as many people as possible at one time. Tom wrote:
Minutes later, Tom and Richard were speaking directly, and Richard was explaining the circumstances surrounding Uttam's departure from the team's base camp. Uttam, Richard said, had been distraught because of the disintegration of Nepal's ski team in the wake of a funding debacle. Essentially, a corrupt Nepali leader had rescinded his promise of financial support for the team, and when Richard had filed a complaint with the International Olympic Committee, not only had he been dismissed as coach, but the skiers' scholarships had been revoked—rendering Uttam inconsolable and the team's chances of competing in the 2010 Vancouver Olympics hopeless.
Confused and concerned, Tom had an idea. "I might have a way to find Uttam," he told Richard.
Having been a member of Facebook for a year and a half, Tom was familiar with the viral effect of the site, and decided to start a group whose main purpose would be to help track down his forlorn friend. He titled it "Help Uttam and All Victims of Corruption in Sport," and included photos of Uttam, along with a full description of his story—in both French and English—on the opening page.
Aside from finding Uttam, Tom's secondary goal was to denounce the Nepali government's crooked behavior, and to fight to break the cycle of fraudulence in the sports arena. It was a lofty objective, perhaps, but this didn't stand in the sixteen-year-old's way.
Using the Facebook group as his platform, Tom swiftly spread information about Uttam's disappearance to all of his contacts, inviting them to join the group, and asking them to invite their own friends to follow suit. He even included Uttam in his plea.
One week later, the group was 500 members strong. And when Tom sat down at his computer after school one afternoon, he noticed that Uttam had become a member of the very group designed to find him. There was no note or any indication of his whereabouts, but Tom and Richard—who he called immediately upon finding Uttam's response—were beyond relieved to learn that the young skier was alive and well. After all, he was only sixteen and had been missing for weeks—with no money, clothes, or telephone at his disposal.
But where was he? And why had he only accepted the Facebook request and not contacted someone—especially having seen the desperate online campaign to locate him?
They'd have their answers soon enough.
Once Richard had alerted the police, confirming that Uttam was in fact alive, and mass media had gotten wind of the news, Uttam—astonished by the spectacle of so much attention—reached out to Richard, who took the first train to Paris to hear the young boy's side of the story.
Uttam had been wandering the streets of the City of Lights, near the Bastille, having hitchhiked there from Les Arcs with just five euros in his pocket. He'd been stopped by police a number of times, he said, but had produced a valid visa and been released. Nearly three weeks had gone by, and he'd been surviving on mostly bread, when a man—a stranger—had called out to him.
"Hey, kid! I saw you on Facebook," he'd declared, flagging Uttam down. "There's a group with photos of you and your story. They're looking everywhere for you."
Subsequently, the man had invited Uttam to come back to his house so he could see for himself. That was when Uttam had accepted Tom's invitation to the group.
"Why did you not call someone, or at least let us know you were okay?" Richard questioned.
"I had to take a step back and think about my life," Uttam revealed. "When they took away our funding, I realized that I'd wasted two years of my life pursuing a skiing career. I'd dropped out of school to train, and I just needed some time alone to let it all sink in. I felt discouraged and angry."
"I understand. We were all very frustrated, but you still should have come to me," Richard said, resting his hand on Uttam's shoulder. "That's what I'm here for."
"I know. And I'm sorry." Uttam smiled humbly.
"Will you come back with me?"
"Not just yet, but I will return to camp soon."
And that he did. A few days later, Uttam rejoined Richard and his fellow teammates in Les Arcs. He also wrote a long-overdue Facebook message to a very special friend:
While the future of the Nepali ski team remains ambiguous—they hope to send their top seed, Shyam Dhakal, to the 2010 Vancouver Olympics—Uttam is back in his home country, reenrolled in school and eagerly awaiting an opportunity to return to the slopes.
As for the story's hero, Tom Baraize, he says, "I'm quite proud of what I did, and I look forward to seeing my friends on the ski team again very soon. Maybe we can meet up for a drink when they come back to France."
How would Tom describe his experience at the World Championships in retrospect?
"Five words: Best time of my life."
Emily, the author of "Facebook Fairytales," continues to share inspirational stories on the book's Facebook Page.
Tip: Share your stories here with us about interesting and inspiring ways you use Facebook.
See MoreWhen sixteen-year-old French student Tom Baraize was recruited to act as liaison officer for the Nepali Ski Team at the World Ski Championships in February 2009, he had no idea of the drama that would ensue.
Hailing from the quiet community of Lyon, in southeastern... France, roughly a ninety-minute drive from Val d'Isère—the legendary ski area in the French Alps where the Championships would take place—Tom was excited and prepared for his many responsibilities to follow.
The Nepal Alpine skiing team, he was told, had been founded in 1997 by British businessman and former skier Richard Morley at the request of the Himalayan country's then ruler, King Birendra. Tom would report to Richard, the team's coach, and help him tend to the practical needs of the three skiers competing: their star, Shyam Dhakal; their number two, Subash Khatri; and their final and youngest recruit, sixteen-year-old Uttam Rayamajhi.
Tom, who was quadrilingual—speaking English, French, German, and Spanish—was assigned two significant tasks. His first and most important priority was to help the organization committee welcome the international teams; his second was to set up and manage the Nepali team's website.
Arriving in Val d'Isère, Tom was instantly swept up in the frenetic energy palpable at every turn. There were races, events, music, parties, food, and throngs of fans, skiers, and workers buzzing around the cool, sun-soaked slopes. It was a sixteen-year-old's dream job, and Tom could hardly believe his good fortune in landing it.
Tom hit it off immediately, not only with the team members, but also Coach Richard Morley. And as he ran around frantically dotting every "i" and crossing every "t" for the team—from transporting their gear to races and securing the proper documentation to getting them new ski equipment when theirs wasn't authorized—his friendships with the team members were cemented even further. Tom oversaw and chatted with them by day, drank with them in the evenings, and—ultimately—became part of their intimate family.
When the Ski Championships finally came to a close—after two weeks of working and playing hard—Tom departed from the team's base in Les Arcs to return home to Lyon, promising to stay in touch with his newfound friends. They discussed reuniting for a ski trip or even to work on a film about the team. Tom felt gratified and lucky to have experienced this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Nearly two months passed, and in April—back at home—Tom found a note from Richard in his e-mail in-box. Perhaps he's writing to get together or to plan our ski trip, Tom speculated, energized at the thought. He opened the message at once:
Tom,
I have some disturbing news. Uttam Rayamajhi has vanished from the team's base at Les Arcs. No one knows where he's gone. Please let me know if you've heard anything.
Regards,
Richard
Alarmed by word of his friend's disappearance, Tom hastily logged on to Facebook to reach out to Richard. They'd communicated via the social networking site often, and Tom knew that Richard would likely be on Facebook more often than on his regular e-mail, since it was the fastest and most efficient way of reaching as many people as possible at one time. Tom wrote:
Richard,
Please send me your number so we can chat via phone. I want to help in any way I can.
Sincerely,
Tom
Minutes later, Tom and Richard were speaking directly, and Richard was explaining the circumstances surrounding Uttam's departure from the team's base camp. Uttam, Richard said, had been distraught because of the disintegration of Nepal's ski team in the wake of a funding debacle. Essentially, a corrupt Nepali leader had rescinded his promise of financial support for the team, and when Richard had filed a complaint with the International Olympic Committee, not only had he been dismissed as coach, but the skiers' scholarships had been revoked—rendering Uttam inconsolable and the team's chances of competing in the 2010 Vancouver Olympics hopeless.
Confused and concerned, Tom had an idea. "I might have a way to find Uttam," he told Richard.
Having been a member of Facebook for a year and a half, Tom was familiar with the viral effect of the site, and decided to start a group whose main purpose would be to help track down his forlorn friend. He titled it "Help Uttam and All Victims of Corruption in Sport," and included photos of Uttam, along with a full description of his story—in both French and English—on the opening page.
Aside from finding Uttam, Tom's secondary goal was to denounce the Nepali government's crooked behavior, and to fight to break the cycle of fraudulence in the sports arena. It was a lofty objective, perhaps, but this didn't stand in the sixteen-year-old's way.
Using the Facebook group as his platform, Tom swiftly spread information about Uttam's disappearance to all of his contacts, inviting them to join the group, and asking them to invite their own friends to follow suit. He even included Uttam in his plea.
One week later, the group was 500 members strong. And when Tom sat down at his computer after school one afternoon, he noticed that Uttam had become a member of the very group designed to find him. There was no note or any indication of his whereabouts, but Tom and Richard—who he called immediately upon finding Uttam's response—were beyond relieved to learn that the young skier was alive and well. After all, he was only sixteen and had been missing for weeks—with no money, clothes, or telephone at his disposal.
But where was he? And why had he only accepted the Facebook request and not contacted someone—especially having seen the desperate online campaign to locate him?
They'd have their answers soon enough.
Once Richard had alerted the police, confirming that Uttam was in fact alive, and mass media had gotten wind of the news, Uttam—astonished by the spectacle of so much attention—reached out to Richard, who took the first train to Paris to hear the young boy's side of the story.
Uttam had been wandering the streets of the City of Lights, near the Bastille, having hitchhiked there from Les Arcs with just five euros in his pocket. He'd been stopped by police a number of times, he said, but had produced a valid visa and been released. Nearly three weeks had gone by, and he'd been surviving on mostly bread, when a man—a stranger—had called out to him.
"Hey, kid! I saw you on Facebook," he'd declared, flagging Uttam down. "There's a group with photos of you and your story. They're looking everywhere for you."
Subsequently, the man had invited Uttam to come back to his house so he could see for himself. That was when Uttam had accepted Tom's invitation to the group.
"Why did you not call someone, or at least let us know you were okay?" Richard questioned.
"I had to take a step back and think about my life," Uttam revealed. "When they took away our funding, I realized that I'd wasted two years of my life pursuing a skiing career. I'd dropped out of school to train, and I just needed some time alone to let it all sink in. I felt discouraged and angry."
"I understand. We were all very frustrated, but you still should have come to me," Richard said, resting his hand on Uttam's shoulder. "That's what I'm here for."
"I know. And I'm sorry." Uttam smiled humbly.
"Will you come back with me?"
"Not just yet, but I will return to camp soon."
And that he did. A few days later, Uttam rejoined Richard and his fellow teammates in Les Arcs. He also wrote a long-overdue Facebook message to a very special friend:
Tom,
I cannot thank you enough for your help and attention in looking for me. You never abandoned hope, and, if not for the Facebook group, I may have been a lost soul forever.
Thank you.
Your friend always,
Uttam
While the future of the Nepali ski team remains ambiguous—they hope to send their top seed, Shyam Dhakal, to the 2010 Vancouver Olympics—Uttam is back in his home country, reenrolled in school and eagerly awaiting an opportunity to return to the slopes.
As for the story's hero, Tom Baraize, he says, "I'm quite proud of what I did, and I look forward to seeing my friends on the ski team again very soon. Maybe we can meet up for a drink when they come back to France."
How would Tom describe his experience at the World Championships in retrospect?
"Five words: Best time of my life."
Emily, the author of "Facebook Fairytales," continues to share inspirational stories on the book's Facebook Page.
Tip: Share your stories here with us about interesting and inspiring ways you use Facebook.
