Back in Bogd

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Guchin Us has a few redeeming features: a hot shower, internet cafe and a couple of good restaurants that will cook tasty vegetarian food on request. On our last day Erin and I had vegetable soup that did not contain meat, accompanied with freshly baked bread from the herder group bakery. I think Erin felt sad that we were going as she had become part of our team and it was refreshing for her to speak English with a native English speaker. She has also made a few more contacts through our work and was looking forward to starting an English class for some of the government employees, including Danzan the soum governor.

It was as though we were travelling through a different country as we drove back to Bogd. The two days of rain had sparked an instant growth of grass so the countryside showed a haze of green highlighted by areas of colourful flowers. Even the camels looked happier sitting amongst the greenery instead of constantly moving looking for the sparse food as in previous months. As we came over the final rise and looked down on Bogd it looked quite picturesque set in the rich green river valley with the Bogd mountains in the background. Children were even swimming in the river to cool off from the hot sun of early summer.

This was our final period of fieldwork in Bogd and we had a draft timetable to try to complete our work by the end of June so that we could hold a final workshop to say thank you, to bring together the herders from Bogd and Guchin Us and to present our preliminary findings. But the date of the final meeting was still unclear as early July is the time for naadam: a period of horse racing, wrestling and other entertainment and generally a festive holiday time in Mongolia. The dates for Guchin Us naadam had been set but Bogd was still undecided. Bogd had also arranged at the last minute to hold a ceremony at Geegiin ovoo in mid June so my fieldwork timetable had to be quickly reorganised. Throughout our fieldwork Nyammaa has been continuously organising and reorganising meetings, homestays and other events. Without her support none of the work would be possible.

We were soon back out amongst the herders; this time camping next to the ger of Amga, a particular friend that Enkhee had made. Amga was always laughing and joking. His family had prepared food Mongolian style for us. However, although I am eating meat through necessity, I still cannot manage sheep stomach and blood sausage and as everyone sat around the shared bowl cutting off pieces I supped on my cup of tea, nibbling on a sweet mix of yogurt, sugar and flour. The surroundings compensated for the lack of food. Amga’s spring ger was in a low area, surrounded by tall reedy grass and meadows kept green by natural springs. The rain had also brought out many flowers and the horses and goats looked sleek and well fed. I had a number of visits to make in the area so later in the afternoon we set off to try to organise a meeting with a herder group that had just started and to visit an old couple that I had promised to revisit from the autumn.

I had been told that Dorgkhand was the energetic leader of a new herder group and she lived up to her reputation. She greeted us with a big smile and in a loud commanding voice told us about her project and her life. In the Negdel she had been in charge of a sewing workshop, and she was using her managerial skills to organise households to work together. When I met them they were digging out an old well to use for watering fruit trees that they were planting sponsored by a Mongolian government scheme. She was particularly concerned that the group should include poorer households so that they would benefit from diversifying their livelihoods. The people were friendly and energetic under her leadership and enthusiastically participated in a workshop for the project and in making a short film.
Later in the day we pitched our tents near Amga’s house on one of the water meadows despite my protests of mosquitoes. “Amga said there are no mosquitoes” I was told by Nyamaa, “and he lives here”. An hour later, I was proved right as Nyamaa zipped herself securely inside her tent away from the biting insects. I retreated to the ger which was set on slightly higher drier ground and waited till after dark when the numbers of midges decreased again.

As summer approaches the days are getting hotter and it is best to work early and late in the day. My hosts got up at 6am to milk their 120 goats all tied up in a line. Amga’s 75 year old mother in law was the most expert. She told me of her life herding firstly horses and then cows in this area. Her eyes lit up as she laughingly discussed how she had been happy as a nomadic herder. She felt that making a livelihood was harder now after privatisation as the Negdel had paid a regular wage and provided for people.

The other highlight of our stay was a horse ride with Amga late one day when the intense heat of the sun was mellowed. More confident now, I enjoyed riding my horse across the steppes. Amga took us to many places of interest within a few kilometres of his ger: patches of boggy ground that used to be small lakes before the climate changed, a stupa that was a monument to the birthplace of the 7th reincarnation of the Geegiin lama 1915-1937, sand dunes and surrounding them strange circular rock formations. I was entranced as we rode through an area of wild blue iris. As the sun set, the Bogd mountains glowed golden red in the south and I appreciated the vast sublime beauty of the steppes. Hares and a lone fox crossed our path and I understood why Mongolians had such a deep connection to their Motherland.

As we returned to camp we were greeted by some members of the herder group I had met earlier who had bought vodka to thank me for working with them. Mongolians drink vodka shared from a bowl that is handed one by one to each person in the circle and topped up in between. I only take a sip before handing back the cup but I admitted that I could drink a little if mixed with fruit juice. So a bottle of Amga’s son’s apple juice was taken and a large measure of vodka mixed with a little juice just for me. Amga provided a bowl of roast mutton and a meat noodle soup for all my guests as hospitality is important to Mongolians. This was a sundowner that I would remember.
It’s sometimes the little things here that make life mentally demanding. Like filling the kettle for a cup of tea and seeing wriggly things in the water from the river, or being treated to a yogurt icecream on a hot day only to find on the first mouthful that it tastes of goat, or turning up at a household and find that they are castrating the young male sheep, or going to the latrine toilet in summer with pungent smells and flies all around. But maybe this results in being to appreciate other small incidents too. For instance, normally it is hard to get even the commonest vegetables yet one day I found fresh nectarines in one of the local shops – bliss.

Like their lifestyle, timing of events can be nomadic in Mongolia, ever moving. Ever since the start of our work in Bogd we had been interested in the revival of a ceremony in honour of Ikh Bogd mountain. This had been revived in 2007 and scheduled by the aimag to be held once every two years. However, when we arrived in May we heard that the aimag had decided to only sponsor the event every four years. In early June we were asked if we were going to the horse racing. Finally someone told us that local people had requested the ceremony this year and the horse racing was just part of the whole naadam. So, with only a day’s notice, we changed our plans so that we could take part.

Three lamas had been invited from Ulaanbaatar to lead the Buddhist ceremony at Gegeen ovoo situated at the top of a mountain in the Ikh Bogd range. Nyamaa and I had to ask permission to go as it brings bad things for women to go to the ovoo. We agreed to stay lower down and watch from a short distance. We set off at 7am from the soum centre in a convoy of cars. At a brief stop at the foot of the mountains we stopped for tea and met Jargal, the previous Member of Parliament for Bayonhongor who had worked towards making Ikh Bogd a nationally protected area to protect wildlife and prevent mining in the mountains. We then bumped our way up a mountain valley and on to the tops, now green with summer grass. The landscapes, as elsewhere have been transformed by a couple of days of rain. When we reached Gegeen ovoo, Enkhee parked up a hundred metres from the top where we still had a good view of proceedings. There were about 30 people there (including some women) and five lamas. When the ceremony started we joined in throwing milk as an offering to the mountain for happiness for the mountain, ourselves and friends. As the ceremony proceeded above us I spent some time examining the small alpine flowers that were growing in these mountain steppes, including varieties of blue gentians, forget-me-knots and small yellow buttercups. I then retreated to the car from the biting wind and the rain as the ceremony lasted about 2 hours. Although we could not participate directly I enjoyed the place, the views and the flowers.

At the same time as the ovoo ceremony there was horse racing on the flat ground just to the south of the soum centre as a secular part of the celebrations. We got back about 3pm and saw a procession of vehicles and motorbikes following a cloud of dust as 30 horses cantered steadily to the start of the 10 kilometre course. We were just in time for the last two races for 3 year old and 2 year old horses. All the jockeys were young boys and all riding bareback. As the horses raced back across the steppe to the finish line we joined in the excitement of bouncing alongside in our jeep and the local governor, who was with us, identified whose horses were in the lead. I managed to film as the horse of our friend, Ganzorig, won the race for 3-year olds. There were participants from many of the surrounding soums and probably around 300 people there when we arrived. This was obviously a lot more popular than the Buddha ceremony but equally important as the day was organised to bring happiness to local people.
The second day of the naadam, festival, consisted of a mixture of religious and secular activities. We had been informed that the ceremony would be at 8am near Kharztai fresh water springs, a grassy area overlooked by Gegeen ovoo. At 8 am there were only about 20 officials and the ceremony eventually started at 11am when about 200 local people had arrived on the site. The ceremony opened with the national anthem followed by a dramatic reading with musical backing of an extract of a Mongolian text about the life of Chenggis Khan. This was followed by a welcome speech from the soum governor. Then there was a short piece of music by a young man playing the morin khuur, the traditional horse head fiddle. Three of the Buddhist lamas then held a ceremony and chanted sutras as a semi-circle of about 100 local people sat around facing Ikh Bogd. During the first sutra participants held the palms if their hands together as in prayer. During the second sutra participants held bowls of dairy products or other gifts and circled them through the air in offering to the mountain as one of the lamas rang a bell. During the final sutra participants got up and threw milk or other dairy products in the air in offering to the mountain. After the sutras the wrestling started and by this time there must have been about 400 people on site. There were 32 contestants from Bogd and surrounding soums. It was a very festive occasion in the hot sun and seemed to be a great Sunday afternoon out for locals and a social occasion for all. The senior lama, now changed into shirt and jeans from his hot Buddhist robes, distributed offerings of cheese and pastries to the winning wresters.

The following day was my birthday but, as we had planned a trip to the mountains, we had a party on the evening of the naadam, the day before my birthday. Our friend Khanbayar, the local policeman, joined us. Enkhee and Nyamaa bought a big fluffy cake from the local bakery for us all to share. But no party in Mongolia is without vodka and, although I participated a little, I was far more wary than before, managing to throw several measures away without drinking. However the other three still got through three bottles of vodka between them. Khanbayar, with no ill effects, carried out his police duties the next day but Enkhee did not wake up till evening. Therefore it was lucky that our mountain trip was postponed as our hosts were called away. As for me, my birthday was spent quietly writing up this blog.
Our next excursion was back to Bag 5 to meet a herder group at their summer camp in the mountains. The morning we set off it had been raining steadily all night and just as we packed up came down torrentially. Although Mongolians love the rain that brings grass to the arid land it can also cause problems for travel as rivers that are normally non-existent suddenly appear and sweep across the land. As we drove along the southern edge of the (dry) Orog Lake, brown muddy water was sweeping down from the mountains. The mud roads soon became rivers and driving difficult. Enkhee kept stopping to look for alternative routes across the gullies and at several sections we had a bow wave of water running before us. I was worried about the steep canyon into the mountains but was told that the water would recede quickly when the rain stopped. As we approached the mountains the sky cleared and the rocks glistened as the water intensified the colours of the ground.

However the journey took longer than expected so we camped near the summer ger of our friend Tsedevsuren which was less exposed than the ger of Sosorbaram. Late in the afternoon we visited some households nearby for interviews but postponed our mountain ride. In the morning the sky started to clear and we climbed higher to Sosorbaram’s summer camp where we had arranged to meet the group. The road to his ger was steep and followed the top of a ridge of hills. Sosorbaram was busy cutting up a goat for lunch so there was time to explore before we started. At this time of year there is an abundance of milk and dairy products are one means of income for herders. To preserve milk much of it is converted into aral. The process is complicated, boiling and skimming milk of cream; adding yogurt to the milk and boiling again; then straining the whey from the curd and drying the curds in the sun. At this time of year there are bowls and urns of milk being processed everywhere and the creamy white blocks of aral drying in the sun.

The herder group were enthusiastic to take part in the workshop and were spurred on by a constant supply of food. No part of a goat is wasted and the first bowl of shared food was inevitably boiled offal, to Mongolians a delicacy. A slice of liver with a thin slice of fat was handed to me and I managed to eat this but luckily was not offered slippery intestines and I declined a slice of solidified blood, boiled in the large intestine. The children however took great delight in exploring the bowl for the small vessels resembling elastic worms. Chunks of meat carved from the bone and noodle soup made with meat I could manage with less worries.

The meeting and the food ended with a round of vodka of which I only took sips from the shared cup. Then Nyamaa, Tsedevsuren and I went for a ride in the higher mountain to visit a large cave and then climb steadily up towards Jaran Bogd. We stopped on the mountainside at a landslide scar caused by a massive earthquake in 1957 in which many mountains in the area had ‘fallen down’. Although I had a quiet horse I felt quite precarious as it stumbled its way back down the steep rocky mountain side. Both I and the horse were quaking in fear at one point.

Our ride finished too late to return to the soum centre along a road damaged by the rain so we camped for a second night near Tsedevsuren’s ger. Only we were too near to the area where the animals slept so early the next morning I was woken by a number of small goats using my tent as a trampoline.

Today we had lunch with a family in the soum centre and then had a swim in the Tuin River. It was brown and fast flowing but refreshing too. I now have less than two weeks left in Bogd. We have another trip to the protected area in the mountains planned provided the 'roads' have been mended. Then next week we have a final workshop for heads of herder groups from both Bogd and Guchin Us to plan. So I still have lots to do.

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Photos

Morning milking
120 goats lined up to be milked

evening drink
Horses an foals having an evening drink

horse race
3 year old horses race 10km riden by young bare back riders

riders
Young winning jockeys

Alpine flowers
Alpine flowers near Gegeen ovoo

Gegeen ovoo
Ceremony at Gegeen ovoo. As women we could not go to the top.

Ikh Bogd ceremony
The Ikh Bogd ceremony was a mix of religious, state and popular activities

Ikh Bogd wrestlers
Wrestlers honour the mountain and the entertainment brings happiness to local people

Mountains
More beautiful mountains near one of our camps

Goat for lunch
Preparing a goat for the herder group lunch

goat stomach
The children enjoyed searching through the bowl of boiled intestines for tasty morsels

Play
Children have wide open spaces to play in as well as access to TV.

making aral
Some of the processes in making aral. Boiling milk from which the cream is removed, yougurt fermenting in the sun, filtering the curds and whey, blocks of aral drying

Breaking in
Horses are left wild during the winter so often have to be trained to be riden again

natural circles
Any one know how these natural circles are formed?

Sundowner
Sharing tea, food and vodka outside Amga's ger

Cake
My birthday cake. Large with fluffy marshmallow icing

Cards
Playing cards in the evening with Nyamaa, Enkhee and Khanbayar

Bogd sunset
Sunset over the Tuin River and Bogd

Road or river
Our road becomes a river after the rain

Green and gold
The brown landscapes change to green and gold after the rain