I think it was all my fault. I understood that we were going
into the mountains to get a good view of the city of Ulaan Baatar. But I got it
wrong. The day before, I discovered we were going to the countryside to have
lunch with a nomad family. Munkhtuul, our new Mongolian friend, pointed out
there were no toilets, “Is that OK”. Sure, why not. But then I thought “Well,
what do the nomad family use?”
We had to meet at Mukhtulul’s office. On the walk there I
had realised I had forgotten the box of chocolates purposely acquired as a
thank you gift for the host, as is tradition. The newer the friend, the bigger
the gift. I did wonder if it had been deliberate that I had left this huge box
of chocolate in our fridge. Not to worry, got another (the original is still in
the fridge unopened). We all piled into a car, 4 adults, 2 kids and the driver,
and took off to the countryside.
As we drove out of the city we went through what is known as
the Ger District. Here, those poorer families live in traditional gers, cars
parked outside, the only sign of any significant possession. This area seemed
dusty, smoky, cluttered and oppressed. Occasionally I saw a small herd of sheep
or goats, penned against a paled fence. But the grubby kids played together, chasing
each other and looking happy.
As we made our way out of this area and getting closer to
rolling hills, we stopped to buy a bag of roasted pine nuts from a young girl,
for a fraction of the cost we would pay in Australia. The catch was we had to
shell them before eating them. They are so tiny and lots of work for little
reward. But at least I can say we did it.
Next stop was an obvious tourist attraction with a tour
coach stopped before us. We all
bundled out and I looked at James saying, “Can I have the camera?” “I thought
you had it”, “I thought you had
it” I got it wrong. Never mind, we
had the little pocket job, which would do. I managed to get some shots of the
camels that didn’t look at all fussed that we were excited. The kids climbed on and screamed as the
camel stood, then screamed again as it sat back down. Photos were paid for.
There were eagles there with incredible wingspans and talons to match. James
had one sit on his arm, then his shoulder, then his head, I took photos, which
were paid for. But great experience and at least we can say we’ve done it.
On we went and the grass covered steppes looked cool. We
followed a really bumpy road and at times left the road and travelled on the
verge, a smoother but dustier option to the road. We, well at least the ladies
with us, broke into song and it sort of had the excitement of a school
excursion. Especially when they said the museum was ahead. I sort of thought
they must have the wrong English words, but sure enough, in the middle of
nowhere, was this gigantic stainless steel statue of Chinggis Khan, astride a
horse, mounted on top of a building housing a museum of bronze age Mongolian
artefacts.
As if the museum wasn’t impressive enough, a private collection
that has been donated to the country, we got in a lift and went up the 131
meters to the top of 250 tons of stainless steel and looked up Chinggis Khans
nostrils. That was if we looked in one direction. Looking the other way was a
magnificent view over the Mongolian Steppes. Amazing! Mongolians love old
Chinggis, he was ignored a bit during Russian rule, but the locals are now
allowed to boast his strengths. They have even names a vodka after him. (Yes
correct spelling for Chinggis, James checked on the vodka bottle)
All piled back in the car we seemed to be heading back in
the direction we had come from. We slowed slightly then took a hard left onto a
dirt track that was etched through the short grass. Up and over a gentle hill,
before us was a ger with smoke coming from the central chimney. We had arrived
a the mobile home of the nomadic family with whom we were having lunch. The
ladies we were with were obviously good friends because hugs were exchanged,
this was the first time I have seen such familiarity between Mongol people.
The door was held open and we stepped over the threshold
into the darken tent. We were instructed to move to the left of the doorway as
we made our way in, this being polite tradition. Also in keeping with
tradition, I presented the lady of the house with the big box of chocolates,
her reply translated as “they are my favourite”. I wondered if this was polite
tradition too.
This was a new location for the family, they had moved here
only a week prior but they looked pretty organised. But then, if you move four
times in summer, you would have a good routine. The moves are determined by the amount and quality of feed available for the livestock. They never overgraze an area, but move on to greener pastures. The inside of the ger had the
basics. From the left of the door and against the wall were a few large barrels
holding fresh water (which is carried from a nearby well) and milk taken from the goats, a single bed, then a
table with a satellite phone, a
solar converter connected to TV and DVD,
the TV on soccer, another two single beds and a cupboard, a few buckets
with milk and yogurt sat on the floor. In the centre of the room was a low
stove with a flue going through the roof and a lid that lifted to expose the
fire. There was also a folding
table and about three chairs and a few stools. The floor was dirt but we were
told in winter there is a wooden platform for comfort.
A ger is made of felt, laid over a wooden frame. When
erecting the home the roofs central structure resembles the hub of a wagon
wheel, with about 100 spokes coming out and anchoring to the side wall. This
wall is like an expandable lattice that stretches to form a circle. This
structure is all tied together with ropes, then overlaid with thick sheets of
felt. This is then covered with canvas and again tied down with rope. The
portal for the door is painted and the door itself has a beautiful design of
bright colours. This ger, being a summer ger, had the ability to raise the edge
of the tent, so as to let air circulate into the home. Most of the time the door
is left open to provide light. (Except when I wanted it shut so I could take a
photo and they were in there in the dark) The inside of the wagon wheel which
forms the ceiling, is a great place to tuck extra bits and pieces like
toothbrush, sunglasses, cooking utensils etc.
The central "wheel" of the roof |
Yummy yogurt |
Making noodles, the hard way |
Once we were inside, we were sat and offered a bowl of
thick, fresh, unsweetened yogurt to drink, which had been proudly and freshly
made. It was almost gelatinous but quite tasty, bit strange drinking from a
bowl though. We watched while our host prepared lunch. She had cooked a flat
bread of flour and water and then while sitting on a bed, because as guests we
had the table and chairs, proceeded to shred the bread into noodles. Then meat
and vegetables were also sliced and placed in large metal bowls while the fire
was stoked with dried horse and cow dung, a bag of which sat next to the stove.
Roaming free amongst all of this was a lamb, who lived inside with the family
after having been orphaned. Just adding an extra charm, he would sniff toward
the food, having a nibble then wandering off again unchecked by the chef.
Every now and then I would get up and snap a few photos and,
you guessed it, ran out of battery. Not to worry James had the iphone. I
wandered outside to have a look around and it was all very basic rural stuff.
There were solar panels on the roof, the ropes slung over the top of the ger
held against any wind with old wheels. There were old baby baths holding water
for the goats and sheep that roamed unrestrained and next to a fenced area were
a few horses tied to the fence. There were no trees to provide shade from the
hot summer sun and when the wind picked up it was a bit dusty.
Back inside, lunch was underway on the stove. We were told
to sit and bowls were filled to overflowing with this hot stir-fry that was
absolutely delicious. We worked our way through with a fork and as a reward for
finishing, were offered tea. This was poured from a thermos, steaming into
cups. It was milky but salty. I had heard of this before and was a little
cautious, but acquired the taste.
We chatted, conversation being translated, questions asked and answered. This family of four, mum dad, a son and the mother’s sister, move regularly through the area. The extended family live close by and their daughter is studying in China. They are self-sufficient and sell some of their produce, dairy products and meat, to shops in the city. They are a Christian family and attend church when possible. They seemed gentle, happy people.
Those bags of dried dung by the door are leaning on beer kegs, they must party hard. |
Then it was time for milking. The goats and sheep were all
herded together in a pen, the kids(the goat ones) on the outside. One by one about 50 goats
were milked, about a cup or two from each. They were released after being
milked to their awaiting crowd of bleating kids. James and I got to have a go
at milking. The two women had squatted on their haunches at the back end of the
goat with a bucked positioned between their knees as they dampened their hands
in the milk and deftly squired fresh milk into the bucked. I was nowhere near
as professional. I was bent, my bum in the air trying to locate teats under a
hairy goat bum. Must have been a sight. James took a photo but you're not seeing
it. I felt like a real farm girl, grabbing goats by the horns and leading them
over to be milked before shoving them out of the gate when they were finished
with. My reward was one and half litre of really fresh warm goats milk, a
share of the twenty litre bucket full.
All the niceties done, it was time to head home. The girls
who were with us were dustier and a little more disheveled after spending the
day chasing goats and sheep, but they looked like they had had a really good
time. So had we. We retraced our path back to the city, the camels and eagles
still on the side of the road. What a fantastic experience we had to reflect on
as we all sat quietly, the girls dozing. I kept thinking though. I didn’t see
anything that resembled a toilet and not a tree or bush in sight. I wasn’t game
to ask but they must have a toilet somewhere. I must have got it wrong.
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