Prayers for the new year
Today is the eve of the lunar New Year's Eve, the bituun . Tsevegmed estimates that in the next few days they will receive the visit of dozens of family and friends who must be entertained. They will not lack anything, because the ger is already full of buuz , various types of sweets, different cheeses - all pose a threat to the teeth - and, above all, bottles of vodka.
We prefer to travel to the desert area to find a less numerous and wealthy family to spend the penultimate day of the lunar year. The speed with which we pass from steep alpine mountains to endless plains of secarral is surprising. With the exception of some very specific dunes, the deserts in Mongolia are as arid as ugly and monochrome. This is no exception. Basically it all comes down to stones and dust; dust and stones. Despite the low temperatures, there is not even snow to make up the landscape. Only some sad and bare bushes occasionally dot the horizon.
Davaanyam Sukh's family is the first one we found at sunset, after several hours of driving. It shows that the men who fill their ger are already in tune with the party. The smell of vodka floats in the air, a sign that it will not cost us to be welcome. We add the bottle of rigor and, after a brief introduction, we sit in one of the beds located on the sides of the yurt.
Among those who chat loudly there is a monk with a crimson robe named Batsukh Kolya. Davaanyam has hired him to bless the cattle in a ceremony held in the last light of day. We have arrived at the right time, just when you get up to prepare everything you need at a table. Undoubtedly, work is not going to be missing, because the family has more than one hundred camels, between six hundred and seven hundred goats and sheep, fifteen horses and ten cows. Place a taco of leaves written in Tibetan on a yellow cloth, sit down and start reciting them. His voice becomes a mantra that causes sleep. At first, family and friends who have gathered in the Davaanyam ger listen to him in silence, but soon begin to talk to each other. First in a whisper, then louder and louder, until the uproar turns the background mantra into static noise.
There is barely a thread of orange light on the horizon when the monk goes outside to bathe the animals in incense. The camels don't like them and they let them know with a loud bark, sometimes followed by a generous spit. Apparently one of the males is in heat and, in addition to fighting with the rest, has a nose full of very bad drool. Fortunately, it is tied. But his constant anger leads him to pull with such force that it would not be surprising if the stake starts that keeps him at bay. That does not seem to matter to Batsukh, because he sits on the ground next to the camel and continues to recite his prayers. First, the eldest daughter, Choidulam, fourteen, is the one who holds the flashlight so she can read. When freezing threatens his hands, Davaanyam takes over. Concision has never been the strength of sermons.
Inside the ger , his wife, Bolormaa Bataa, also prays. On his knees and with the palms of his hands joined on his head, he asks that next year he be benign looking at the photos of his ancestors.
"I pray that the animals grow healthy, so that no one steals our cattle and that the family thrives."
Mongolia was for centuries a predominantly Buddhist country. Communism, as in neighboring China, tried to eradicate religion, but the population continued to pray in secret. Now Tibetan Buddhism continues to be the most widespread belief - more than 50% of the population practices it - but it is mixed with animism, which was present in the country much earlier. Shamans continue to perform all kinds of rituals, and superstition is still rooted in rural areas.
The Sukh move twenty times a year, and in a few days it will be the first.
"The sheep have started to give birth, so it's time to find a more suitable place for them to grow." Here we are too exposed to wild animals.
After the religious ceremony, it is time to relax. Of course, there is not much to do in a yurt located in the middle of nowhere, so Davaanyam opens another bottle of vodka and a group of friends ride a timba. Friends in masculine, because only they play. Both Bolormaa and her two teenage daughters just look at and serve the guests. Mongols often emphasize that theirs is not a patriarchal society; they affirm that men and women are equal, but it is obvious that it is a false assertion. In all the families with whom we have lived, the greatest weight always falls on the woman: it is she who takes care almost exclusively of the offspring, who prepares the food and milks the cattle and also the one who serves the men in her time of leisure, to which she does not seem entitled.
Card games lengthen without mercy. The men serve each other the vodka, but it is the girls who fill their tea cups with milk while the mother cooks something for the friends - always in the male - who continue to arrive: they enter the yurt, greet each other, take a drink tea, they play a game, they give a couple of rounds and they leave where they have come, on a motorcycle, towards another yurt that I don't know how they will find in the dark of the night. It is not surprising that during these days of celebration we find bikers lying on the ground. It is not that they have suffered an accident, but that they are sleeping a monkey so intense that it does not clear even at 35 degrees below zero.
Between tea and tea I take the opportunity to exchange some words with the two teenagers in the house. Choidulam and Dejid, fourteen and eleven, blush and talk with a smile of shame. Both study in a small nearby town, where they reside with their grandmother. When the New Year holidays conclude, they will return to the city. But the elder says she does want to be a pastor.
"I like life in the ger and I'm afraid of not finding a job in the city."
The little girl, however, speaks with aplomb and has very different plans.
"I don't want to live in the country." I want to study and be a doctor. Here we are working all day and, when I can rest, I get bored.
The hours pass and we go looking for accommodation on the floor or in the beds, in which the two youngest children, aged five and six, are already asleep. They are not affected by the laughter or the blows that men give on the table when they win a game. The evening is becoming eternal, but there are so many people that it is impossible to deploy the bags on the ground. It seems that I am acquiring one of the most admired abilities of Asians and I stay fried in the corner of a bed, with my legs hanging and the neck in the form of ele. I have always wondered how they get to sleep anywhere, and I see that it is something that is acquired naturally. Miguel manages to keep his eyes open, but it's not him anymore: he has stopped taking photos. And our interpreter, Enkhbayar Batsukh, manages to remain seated, but from time to time his head falls and he suddenly wakes up.
Early in the morning, the men decide to end the night and we can occupy the ground. It is noted that the ger is erected in the desert, because the stones are nailed everywhere. Only a thin carpet separates us from the earth and I end up thinking that I would have preferred to continue snoring in the corner of the bed. But it does not matter, because I fall asleep long before the silence is made and that they turn off the only low-energy bulb that illuminates the interior.
Some families add pieces of coal to the stove fire at night so that the heat lasts longer. The Sukh no. So cow and sheep dungs do not take long to consume. Although there is no lack of human warmth in the yurt, it is not enough to combat the 25 degrees below zero outside. Once again, we ended up waking up from cold to midnight. We cover ourselves with everything we have within our reach, including a heavy blanket of camel wool that stinks, but it is not enough to avoid a tremor every time we take out the arm to add another layer. With so much weight on it is impossible to move, although Miguel could not do it either because the gigantic bruise of the left leg prevents it, which has now taken ocher dyes.
The nights on the floor of a ger are undoubtedly the worst of Mongolia. We always promise ourselves that each night will be the last one, that we will do everything possible to find a hotel halfway, but it always ends up getting late and the fascination can give us.
Fortunately, the next day, after attending the camel milking ritual and interviewing the parents, we return to Ulaangom and sit at Monya's house, which has two old sofa beds in the room that she uses as a storage room. On any other occasion we would have frowned to see how shabby they look, but now they are blessed glory.
The end of winter
«Winter is over!» Uuganbaatar Davaasuren proclaims the arrival of spring while he wakes up, although outside the yurt he lives with his family the temperature is 18 degrees below zero. Apparently it is already high enough to leave the winter camp, a rudimentary wooden stable, and move to the spring settlement. He will be accompanied by his wife, his two children, ten horses, two dozen yaks, and about five hundred sheep and goats among which are several new born offspring.
—It has been a good winter, it hasn't been too cold; the average temperature has been around 25 degrees below zero, with a minimum of 42 below zero, and not many animals have died, ”he says.
The interior of the yurt is already upside down, with cornered furniture and mountains of things everywhere, so Uuganbaatar recommends us to spend the night in the ger of a friend, who is a few kilometers away, and return tomorrow before dawn to follow the whole process of disassembly of the home.
"We have always been nomads, but the children have moved to the city to attend class and my wife lives with them most of the time." So in the countryside I take care of the animals. I feel sorry because I feel alone, but I hope my oldest son will accompany me as soon as I finish my studies. I do not see it easy. The educational system means that children and adolescents end up preferring the city to the countryside. They used to start school at age eight, when they are more independent, but now they start at age six, too small to go alone. That is why sometimes the mother or uncles have to settle there to take care of the little ones. Unfortunately, for someone like me, there is nothing but misery in the city. I do not blame the Government, which can do little about it, but I hope it will improve social security and increase the pensions of pastors so that we can live our last days with dignity.
Uuganbaatar drinks tea and recognizes that semi-nomadic life is imposed in the countryside.
- Each time there are more who have two gers , one in the countryside and one in the city. They spend the winter in the second and pay someone to take care of the animals during the hardest months. But for that you have to have enough money, and we don't have it.
Uuganbaatar moves a dozen times a year. Tomorrow's will be the first, and also the longest, because they will travel almost 100 kilometers.
—Then there are times that we only move 500 meters, especially if it rains. Animals remove the earth too much and create a huge quagmire.
The ger is very close to a gigantic dune and in the middle of a Martian landscape. The earth is red and barren. It seems incandescent with the warm light of the sunset, and it is hard to imagine a robot explorer like the Curiosity of NASA leaving marks rolled by the gigantic esplanade surrounded by mountains with the snowy peaks that the Uuganbaatar family has as a patio.
We say goodbye before it gets dark and easily find the friend, who welcomes us with the usual hospitality. Also as always, the night is a torture of dogs barking, babies crying and men snoring. At least on this occasion they have been happy to throw some pieces of coal that extend the life of the fire.
The alarm sounds at 6:45. We do not want to delay because it will be a long day and Uuganbaatar has the deference of waiting for us. Sometimes I think I would be able to eat the Nescafe without water, mixing it with my own saliva, but it gives me time to prepare a thermos of the elixir that keeps us awake. We left with some cookies in our pockets and arrived at the Yuganbaatar yurt when the sky began to clear.
The horizon has a bluish tone that, as intensity gains, turns off the spectacular blanket of stars that accompanies us during almost all trips. The cold is like what we feel when we reach Ulaanbaatar: it seems like a small thing, but it freezes you in a matter of minutes. That is why Uuganbaatar points out that the newborn sheep must be covered well. Other nomads with whom we cross the road even transport them inside their clothes: the deel is perfect, because they can take their heads out of the side opening of the jacket and keep the body very warm inside.
The couple greets us warmly and begins the disassembly of the ger . We timed the operation, not because they seek to break records, but because we want to check if it is done as quickly as we have been told. And go if they do not disappoint. With the help of the friend who hosted us last night, Uuganbaatar and his wife, Baigalmaa Rolom, make the yurt disappear in 28 minutes. First, the layers of fabric and felt insulation.
Then, the few family furniture and the metal kitchen stove with its fireplace. Finally, the woman remains holding the two central pillars while her husband removes the wooden radial structure that holds the roof. The last thing they collect is the handmade rifle used to hunt the wolves that stalk the sheep. Everything gets on the Russian family truck, whose engine is covered with a blanket to prevent starting it from becoming an odyssey. Even so, it takes a while to get him to stop coughing and roar continuously.
It's 8:30 in the morning when we leave leaving a dark circular shadow on the floor, where the ger was mounted. Several hours ago, the eldest son, Purevbat, went on horseback with his grandmother, Davaasuren, to take the rest of the herd. They started jogging before dawn and will arrive when the sun has set. We find them halfway, in a steep valley with mountains still covered with ice. They smile, and with the change of expression a little frost falls that has formed on their eyebrows. Anyone from another place would have long since taken off, but for them it is nothing more than a mild winter. After a brief dialogue to confirm that everything is going as planned, Uuganbaatar presses the accelerator again and we follow him in the car. From time to time, whenever there is a mountain from which you can take a good panoramic view, we advance them to immortalize your trip from an elevated point.
At 11:20 we arrive at a new valley. This time the ground is covered with snow, which is why Uuganbaatar chooses it to set up the camp.
"Snow and ice are water." Soon they will melt and grass will grow here. But the place we were in will remain a wasteland - justifies.
The assembly of the yurt is more laborious. It takes almost two hours, not including the work of placing the furniture and various appliances, as well as the installation of the stove and the arrangement of several layers of carpets to make the floor more fluffy.
What is not necessary is to find the right place, because the circle left last year is still visible, when they also chose this location.
- Actually, nomads always move around the same places, with small deviations in case the weather is unusual. To change province or area we need a special permit.
Construction begins with the circular grid perimeter. The different sections are nailed to the ground and linked together with ropes. The circle closes with the blue door. Next, a person is located in the center holding the two pillars on which the zenithal circular piece is placed, to which the radial rods that create the roof are inserted. In the first phase of assembly everything has a flimsy appearance; It is still a wooden skeleton that threatens to collapse as soon as the wind blows.
But appearances are deceiving. In yurts we have sheltered from sandstorms in the Gobi desert and heavy blizzards on the border with Kazakhstan. In both cases, the houses have endured the shock without being unchanged, although the rumble of the wind made the hair stand on end. The only threat whose real danger we have been able to verify is the fire: upon arriving at Uliastai, a column of smoke and the unusual sound of sirens guided us to a burning ger . By the time the firemen had managed to put it out, everything inside had been reduced to ashes. Fortunately, no one was injured.
That weakness is obvious when Uuganbaatar and Baigalmaa begin to cover the wood with the different insulating layers. The first, on the ceiling, is a white cloth that is no thicker than a sheet. The walls are lined with felt, which are then added different layers of wool.
—According to the cold weather, we put more or less. Now it starts to warm up and soon the maximum temperatures will exceed zero degrees, so with three it is enough.
The last fabric has waterproof properties and is the only one that covers the entire structure, providing a feeling of uniformity. On the floor, a first layer of plastic prevents the moisture from the earth from leaking, and then several carpets make thermal insulation and give the yurt the typical home heat. The walls are covered with a fabric with floral patterns on a green background. It's all very kitsch , but the couple is very proud of the result. Although they have not yet placed any furniture, Uuganbaatar rests on the floor, rolls a cigarette, adds a tangled silver mouthpiece and smokes it while opening a bottle of vodka to celebrate the success of the transfer. He has a mischievous smile, and with a shot he wishes us a good trip on our way back to Uliastai.
Get 'Goodbye to Mongolia: The Last Journey of the Nomads'
Author: Zigor Aldama
Publisher: Peninsula Editions
Format: 272 pages
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