Still Day 9, Baaskaa’s gets a call for yet another job.
As soon as we left the office, Baaskaa’s friend Enkhee called. The two were classmates in Naleikh and became close friends.
Upon Baaskaa’s arrival in UB I gave him a phone, so I could be in contact with him. But he saw it differently ☺. He had been in the countryside with no means of communication and being able to call his friends was sweet medicine for him. His pre-paid phone card had to be refilled numerous times!
Enkhee had heard about a mining company recruiting for their Gobi operations, so he investigated and learned there were several openings. I was stunned; we went from panicking about the lack of opportunities to having choices.
The boys called a third friend, Huvlee, who lived in Banuur, a small mining town six hours away from UB, where Baaskaa had completed his practical training in the spring of 2010. Huvlee was pressured by his family to find a job, but so far, he was unsuccessful.
Twelve hours later we heard a knock on our door. The three boys hadn’t seen each other in almost a year. It was a happy reunion, which we celebrated with a feast (well, almost) and cake for dessert.
The next morning the three boys signed up for the three-day practical training from which the company would choose six new employees.
The boys enjoyed working together. But the second evening they returned home quite moody. When I asked what they had done they described a grueling day of physical labor. I think reality checked in and they realized what was ahead of them. On the third day all three boys got the thumbs up; they qualified for the job and were accepted. (Which resulted in another feast and more cake as crowning dessert).
Jobs in the mining industry are paid very well; in addition, the companies provide housing, food and work clothes. The employees have access to a library, computer lab, gym and laundry on the premises. But the job is hard. Baaskaa told me he’d have to work 12 hours shifts, seven days a week. I am sure they'll have some days off, but not many. Apparently the aren’t many opportunities to spend money, but I am convinced that the mining corporations came up with some “entertainment” ideas, which allows the hard earned money to flow back into the company.
The minute Baaksaa learned he was accepted, he made a schedule and budget. To achieve his dream of a profitable dairy farm he needs 40 cows to produce enough milk, cheese and yogurt. According to his calculations he’d have to work two years to save enough money to be able to afford 20 French milk cows out of the 40 he wants. Two years. That is two straight years of hard, physical labor, 12 hours a day. A painful scenario for every mother, long distance or not.
After completing the training, the new employees learned that they were waiting for a safety instructor to arrive from Gobi. The mandatory safety instructions are the one obstacle delaying the boy’s departure. The waiting began.
My heart is heavy; I don’t want him to work in a mine, far away in the Gobi desert, with no means to reach him. When he is in the countryside, I have a visual and I can send a friend to visit him (what I really mean is "check on him"). In Gobi, I have none of it. But mining is what he wants to do and I have to let him.
Every morning I embrace myself that this might be the last shared day. I play the scene in my head, him leaving on a bus to Gobi while I stay behind. He had never left me; I come and go while he stays behind. This is the last time Baaskaa will be the boy I knew. Once he is off to Gobi, I will get him back as a young, matured man, in charge for himself. I guess that’s what they call “let him go”, which turns out to be much harder then I anticipated.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Finding a job for Baaskaa – part two: construction.
Day nine. Baaskaa’s second job interview.
We all liked Mr. Tugsbayar, but we were also curious what other options there were.
I always joke with Baaskaa about my speediness. At the beginning he was a bit intimidated, but now he just laughs about me. Not wasting time, we were on our way to the second job interview the following day.
Mr. Tugsbayar's secretary had handed us a list of needed documents, which is common procedure for every applicant in Mongolia. To be prepared, we gathered the documents the night before the second interview. Apart from the usual proof of address and such, he also had to write a personal statement, why he desired the job and a family history. Every time he's asked to do that, I feel for him. I always pretend it's not important, but it’s painful to see the blank piece of paper stating: family history unknown.
I had to go through the same in my childhood. My mother pretended not to know my father’s whereabouts. Every time I had to answer questions about my father or fill out a document (Germany offers plenty of opportunities, believe me!) I had to state “unknown”, until I was 26 and found out where he lived. So I am feeling with Baaskaa when he has to go through this process. Talking about your family history can be a very personal, private affair and should be respected as such.
The second job was for a construction company. Mongolia is going through a housing boom, due to their wast natural resources, which are harvested by the global community. His job within the company could have been anything from setting windows to plastering or painting walls, what ever the task of the day was. I wasn’t too thrilled about the lack of definition. His education as excavator driver would have been useless and therefore he could have gotten easily stuck in having an undefined position with no opportunity to move up.
But the director, Mrs. Tserenpurev, offered a good start-up salary and I could tell she liked Baaskaa. She was once again one of these wonderful Mongolians who try to help when ever they see an opportunity. By the time we said good-bye, Baaskaa had landed his second job. The only problem now was to decide which job he wanted to take.
But then the phone rang……
We all liked Mr. Tugsbayar, but we were also curious what other options there were.
I always joke with Baaskaa about my speediness. At the beginning he was a bit intimidated, but now he just laughs about me. Not wasting time, we were on our way to the second job interview the following day.
Mr. Tugsbayar's secretary had handed us a list of needed documents, which is common procedure for every applicant in Mongolia. To be prepared, we gathered the documents the night before the second interview. Apart from the usual proof of address and such, he also had to write a personal statement, why he desired the job and a family history. Every time he's asked to do that, I feel for him. I always pretend it's not important, but it’s painful to see the blank piece of paper stating: family history unknown.
I had to go through the same in my childhood. My mother pretended not to know my father’s whereabouts. Every time I had to answer questions about my father or fill out a document (Germany offers plenty of opportunities, believe me!) I had to state “unknown”, until I was 26 and found out where he lived. So I am feeling with Baaskaa when he has to go through this process. Talking about your family history can be a very personal, private affair and should be respected as such.
The second job was for a construction company. Mongolia is going through a housing boom, due to their wast natural resources, which are harvested by the global community. His job within the company could have been anything from setting windows to plastering or painting walls, what ever the task of the day was. I wasn’t too thrilled about the lack of definition. His education as excavator driver would have been useless and therefore he could have gotten easily stuck in having an undefined position with no opportunity to move up.
But the director, Mrs. Tserenpurev, offered a good start-up salary and I could tell she liked Baaskaa. She was once again one of these wonderful Mongolians who try to help when ever they see an opportunity. By the time we said good-bye, Baaskaa had landed his second job. The only problem now was to decide which job he wanted to take.
But then the phone rang……
Monday, April 25, 2011
Finding a job for Baaskaa – part one: road construction.
Day eight. Baaskaa’s first official job interview in road construction.
Baaskaa had stayed in the country for a long time, particularly long, when you are 19 years old. He graduated in May 2010 and went back to Byambaa to help out for the summer. But then fall came and they had to winterize the farm. And then the winter came and there was no point to go anywhere, since the job he wants is seasonal. By spring he was antsy to leave and become truly independent. He never complained, but I could sense his desire and restlessness in his letters.
While still in New York I had asked Selenge, my trusted friend and Baaskaa’s other surrogate mother, if she would know of any job opening. By the time I arrived in Mongolia she had lined up two interviews. I don’t know how she did it, she must have the magic touch or talent, because everyone else is complaining that they can’t find work!
Baaskaa interviewed with the director, Mr. Tugsbayar, a young entrepreneur, who built this private road construction company. Mongolia has lived under the Russian mandate for so long, that private companies were very rare until five minutes ago, when the mining industry exploded. Mr. Tugsbayar is a compassionate man, who loves to help. His first concern was safety, which sounded like sweet music to me, the worried (long distance) mother.
But I had to pinch Baaskaa so he’d tell Mr. Tugsbayar about his experience in road construction at the tender age of 12.
When he was 11, he found a family who gave him shelter and food and in exchange he had to tend their animals. Very quickly it became clear that he was doing all the work, while the couple sat around, drank vodka and ate the food they denied Baaskaa. After a year Baaskaa gave up and run away. He found a job as kitchen aid in a road construction company. The boss liked him and showed him how to operate heavy machines. Within a short period of time Baaskaa worked his way up to become an excavator driver. When the winter came, he and the boss parted and Baaskaa went back to UB.
I believe this experience motivated him to choose excavator as his main subject when he enrolled into vocational school.
Mr. Tugsbayar was impressed and mapped out a timeline for Baaskaa to move up from general ‘helper’ to machine operator. Listening to the director’s plan, Selenge eyes started to water and she was unable to talk. She told me later that she kept thinking of our first encounter with Baaskaa, in the manhole, and now we were sitting in an office, discussing his future. Of course by the time she had translated all that, everyone had moved on and I had no time to share my emotions.
We agreed that Baaskaa would start the following Monday, which gave him four more days to complete his educational evaluation.
Little that I knew ………….
Baaskaa had stayed in the country for a long time, particularly long, when you are 19 years old. He graduated in May 2010 and went back to Byambaa to help out for the summer. But then fall came and they had to winterize the farm. And then the winter came and there was no point to go anywhere, since the job he wants is seasonal. By spring he was antsy to leave and become truly independent. He never complained, but I could sense his desire and restlessness in his letters.
While still in New York I had asked Selenge, my trusted friend and Baaskaa’s other surrogate mother, if she would know of any job opening. By the time I arrived in Mongolia she had lined up two interviews. I don’t know how she did it, she must have the magic touch or talent, because everyone else is complaining that they can’t find work!
Baaskaa interviewed with the director, Mr. Tugsbayar, a young entrepreneur, who built this private road construction company. Mongolia has lived under the Russian mandate for so long, that private companies were very rare until five minutes ago, when the mining industry exploded. Mr. Tugsbayar is a compassionate man, who loves to help. His first concern was safety, which sounded like sweet music to me, the worried (long distance) mother.
But I had to pinch Baaskaa so he’d tell Mr. Tugsbayar about his experience in road construction at the tender age of 12.
When he was 11, he found a family who gave him shelter and food and in exchange he had to tend their animals. Very quickly it became clear that he was doing all the work, while the couple sat around, drank vodka and ate the food they denied Baaskaa. After a year Baaskaa gave up and run away. He found a job as kitchen aid in a road construction company. The boss liked him and showed him how to operate heavy machines. Within a short period of time Baaskaa worked his way up to become an excavator driver. When the winter came, he and the boss parted and Baaskaa went back to UB.
I believe this experience motivated him to choose excavator as his main subject when he enrolled into vocational school.
Mr. Tugsbayar was impressed and mapped out a timeline for Baaskaa to move up from general ‘helper’ to machine operator. Listening to the director’s plan, Selenge eyes started to water and she was unable to talk. She told me later that she kept thinking of our first encounter with Baaskaa, in the manhole, and now we were sitting in an office, discussing his future. Of course by the time she had translated all that, everyone had moved on and I had no time to share my emotions.
We agreed that Baaskaa would start the following Monday, which gave him four more days to complete his educational evaluation.
Little that I knew ………….
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Accusations and Repercussions
I have to chime in on the discussion about CBS’s 60 Minutes accusations towards Greg Mortenson’s accuracy of Three Cups Of Tea and Stones Into School – of which I have only read the former.
Yes, it is heart wrenching if Mortenson made up stories about his experiences in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Yes, it is unsettling if he exaggerated how many schools he built with the money he was given, because people believed in his vision and it would definitely be wrong to use that money to promote his books.
But before we throw stones, let’s just wait until these facts are cleared and while we wait, lets look at what he did, as much as what he didn’t do.
As Nicholas Kristof puts it in his NYT Op Ed “…helping people is more difficult then it seems…”. I concur. It is very hard, and I believe no one sees it coming when inspired by a specific cause. No one goes around wondering where and whom they could help; most likely you get involved because you encounter people and causes who inspire you. At least that is my experience.
Thanks goodness I was naïve and enthusiastic enough when I met Baaskaa in 2008. He needed support and had a plan of which I thought I could help to implement it. Excited by the initial success I thought that the positive results exceed the efforts and I developed a program to help more children. It took me two years to realize the full consequences of these decisions.
I don’t regret anything; seeing the kids bloom and become independent is a reward I will cherish forever, but oh boy, it is a lot of work.
You start out as an enthusiastic humanitarian to find yourself being a director of a board (not to mention your role as treasurer, receptionist and cleaning woman), asking, begging and pleading for money to keep your program going. The constant pressure of having to perform and deliver for your cause AND your supporters is tremendous.
The success with my first group of kids allowed me to ask for support. But now I have to take on more and more kids and produce results in order to maintain the funding for the original kids, as success will be measured in quantity more than in quality. Soon you find yourself hiring staff to do the work that you loved to do, that you set out to do, while your time is spent fundraising.
And then you get a chance to write a book. But none wants to read about the hours spent with a calculator or organizing logistics. People want to read the inspirational stories, the stories with emotional value. I’d love to write a book, because I want to give my children a voice, rather then talking about them (which is why I made a film), but I wouldn’t mention the exhaustive undertaking of daily tasks either, simply because it’s boring and no one would buy the book.
Don’t get me wrong, I do not want to excuse Greg Mortenson, but I am afraid of the repercussions this might have for all of us who are involved in humanitarian efforts. The expectations towards good people are so much higher and the pedestal they are put on crumbles so much faster. Good people fall harder than bad people.
Not long ago I was in Afghanistan and it’s obvious that there is a lot of money and where it is spent – but the criticism is tamed because there are too many people involved to pin blame. Xe, formerly Blackwater, is still operating, making millions, with our tax money. And the list goes on and on.
The fact is Greg Mortenson has built schools and helped children to get an education. He might have built a school in a spot that rendered the school useless - people who do unprecedented projects make mistakes. While showing us those images, 60 Minutes could have also interviewed the children who are attending a functioning school every day, or the parents who couldn’t afford to send their kids to school otherwise.
Before you throw a stone, think about how big you want it to be and which direction it should fall.
Yes, it is heart wrenching if Mortenson made up stories about his experiences in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Yes, it is unsettling if he exaggerated how many schools he built with the money he was given, because people believed in his vision and it would definitely be wrong to use that money to promote his books.
But before we throw stones, let’s just wait until these facts are cleared and while we wait, lets look at what he did, as much as what he didn’t do.
As Nicholas Kristof puts it in his NYT Op Ed “…helping people is more difficult then it seems…”. I concur. It is very hard, and I believe no one sees it coming when inspired by a specific cause. No one goes around wondering where and whom they could help; most likely you get involved because you encounter people and causes who inspire you. At least that is my experience.
Thanks goodness I was naïve and enthusiastic enough when I met Baaskaa in 2008. He needed support and had a plan of which I thought I could help to implement it. Excited by the initial success I thought that the positive results exceed the efforts and I developed a program to help more children. It took me two years to realize the full consequences of these decisions.
I don’t regret anything; seeing the kids bloom and become independent is a reward I will cherish forever, but oh boy, it is a lot of work.
You start out as an enthusiastic humanitarian to find yourself being a director of a board (not to mention your role as treasurer, receptionist and cleaning woman), asking, begging and pleading for money to keep your program going. The constant pressure of having to perform and deliver for your cause AND your supporters is tremendous.
The success with my first group of kids allowed me to ask for support. But now I have to take on more and more kids and produce results in order to maintain the funding for the original kids, as success will be measured in quantity more than in quality. Soon you find yourself hiring staff to do the work that you loved to do, that you set out to do, while your time is spent fundraising.
And then you get a chance to write a book. But none wants to read about the hours spent with a calculator or organizing logistics. People want to read the inspirational stories, the stories with emotional value. I’d love to write a book, because I want to give my children a voice, rather then talking about them (which is why I made a film), but I wouldn’t mention the exhaustive undertaking of daily tasks either, simply because it’s boring and no one would buy the book.
Don’t get me wrong, I do not want to excuse Greg Mortenson, but I am afraid of the repercussions this might have for all of us who are involved in humanitarian efforts. The expectations towards good people are so much higher and the pedestal they are put on crumbles so much faster. Good people fall harder than bad people.
Not long ago I was in Afghanistan and it’s obvious that there is a lot of money and where it is spent – but the criticism is tamed because there are too many people involved to pin blame. Xe, formerly Blackwater, is still operating, making millions, with our tax money. And the list goes on and on.
The fact is Greg Mortenson has built schools and helped children to get an education. He might have built a school in a spot that rendered the school useless - people who do unprecedented projects make mistakes. While showing us those images, 60 Minutes could have also interviewed the children who are attending a functioning school every day, or the parents who couldn’t afford to send their kids to school otherwise.
Before you throw a stone, think about how big you want it to be and which direction it should fall.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Nasa’s learns that 1+1=2, literally.
Day five. We have an appointment with a tutor.
I persuaded Baaskaa to have his level of education evaluated. At first he didn’t like the idea, until I convinced him that knowing is better then not knowing. Once we know, we can act.
Nasa on the other hand couldn’t wait.
During the past year Nasa had mentioned several times that she wanted to continue to learn how to read and write, but we never had the opportunity to teach her. Odgerel, her foster mom, tried for a short while, but was discouraged by Nasa’s non-linear learning curve. Some things she picked up quickly, others just wouldn’t stick.
Nasa, now almost 16 years old, has never visited a school, simply because people around her, who were in charge for her, didn’t seem to care if she was illiterate. It is my conviction that Nasa was told time and again that she is incapable of doing anything, including learning. In the end she believed what people told her and gave up trying. It was my sole intention to prove her wrong, to show her that she can accomplish something, when I sent her to the felt workshop last October.
In contrast Baaskaa had taught himself by looking at billboards and comparing letters. Once he was old enough he started visiting the library, where he began to learn in a more structured environment.
Selenge had made an appointment with a tutor, who ran a small classroom, attended by several children of different grades, like an old fashioned country school. Some were tutored in specific subjects, others were taught entirely new subjects. The tutor had experience with late bloomers like Nasa and wasn’t fazed by the task. When we introduced the kids to her, she embraced them and chatted immediately, which helped them lose their shyness.
Of course Baaskaa pretended to be slightly indifferent, but when we discussed school that evening, he admitted that he was excited. Baaskaa loves to learn; he is curious and sucks up knowledge like a sponge.
Luckily part of the donations we got through Leigh and Five Foot Five Productions were backpacks! The kids bought notebooks and pencils and after dinner they packed their bags, sharing the school supplies. It was heartbreaking to witness that! Preparation for their first day at school!
In Germany we get a Schultute on our first day of school. It’s a cone shaped, decorated carton, filled with nick-knacks and candies. I think it is supposed to ease the first day of structure and discipline, and to diffuse the tension and anxiety of having to leave childhood behind. (Never mind that I couldn’t wait!) But I would have loved to celebrate their first day of school with a Schultute, even so they weren’t the slightest bit anxious!
Yes, that's me on the left with my Bambi Schultute!
I persuaded Baaskaa to have his level of education evaluated. At first he didn’t like the idea, until I convinced him that knowing is better then not knowing. Once we know, we can act.
Nasa on the other hand couldn’t wait.
During the past year Nasa had mentioned several times that she wanted to continue to learn how to read and write, but we never had the opportunity to teach her. Odgerel, her foster mom, tried for a short while, but was discouraged by Nasa’s non-linear learning curve. Some things she picked up quickly, others just wouldn’t stick.
Nasa, now almost 16 years old, has never visited a school, simply because people around her, who were in charge for her, didn’t seem to care if she was illiterate. It is my conviction that Nasa was told time and again that she is incapable of doing anything, including learning. In the end she believed what people told her and gave up trying. It was my sole intention to prove her wrong, to show her that she can accomplish something, when I sent her to the felt workshop last October.
In contrast Baaskaa had taught himself by looking at billboards and comparing letters. Once he was old enough he started visiting the library, where he began to learn in a more structured environment.
Selenge had made an appointment with a tutor, who ran a small classroom, attended by several children of different grades, like an old fashioned country school. Some were tutored in specific subjects, others were taught entirely new subjects. The tutor had experience with late bloomers like Nasa and wasn’t fazed by the task. When we introduced the kids to her, she embraced them and chatted immediately, which helped them lose their shyness.
Of course Baaskaa pretended to be slightly indifferent, but when we discussed school that evening, he admitted that he was excited. Baaskaa loves to learn; he is curious and sucks up knowledge like a sponge.
Luckily part of the donations we got through Leigh and Five Foot Five Productions were backpacks! The kids bought notebooks and pencils and after dinner they packed their bags, sharing the school supplies. It was heartbreaking to witness that! Preparation for their first day at school!
In Germany we get a Schultute on our first day of school. It’s a cone shaped, decorated carton, filled with nick-knacks and candies. I think it is supposed to ease the first day of structure and discipline, and to diffuse the tension and anxiety of having to leave childhood behind. (Never mind that I couldn’t wait!) But I would have loved to celebrate their first day of school with a Schultute, even so they weren’t the slightest bit anxious!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Handing out the Goods.
Day four. We made it back into the city with the usual delay.
I had laid out all the goodies and donations from New York, because originally I planned to bring a good portion with me to the country side. But we left in such a mad rush that I had no time to get organized.
Upon our return everything was still on display. Because we wanted to make it a scene for the film, Blake and I decided to postpone the distribution. The kids eyed the clothes, but didn’t say a word. I felt bad to tease them, but no one had any energy left for excitement anyways.
The next day, I just yelled out “presents” when the doorbell rang.
Selenge arrived. We had awaited her eagerly, particular Baaskaa and me, because we needed to talk and this was an exchange that required a translator. Without much introduction, the conversation started. What do they look forward to in the future, what was their grievances and experience since I saw them last?
It was a very heated discussion where emotions ran high and the revelations weren’t always pretty. Nothing I didn’t see coming, but still, it is difficult to see them be disappointed, to see them struggle and be fearful of the very same things you try to protect them from.
If you want to get more details, you’ll have to wait until the film comes out.
After the conversation we were so exhausted that no one cared about presents. Hours later, finally, we were all ready and up for it. This time I called out “presents” and they came running.
I handed out the jackets, shoes, sweaters, sport pants, matching hats, scarves & gloves, backpacks, rain jackets and the remaining underwear from last year. The kids were on cloud nine. Every time they thought that’s it, I found something else, something new.
It was hard not to get carried away and give them all of the clothes – I wanted to keep at least half of the donations to give to the care center kids.
Baaskaa was most happy when I gave him the sleeping bag. He watched me in my sleeping bag for the last two years and I could tell he really liked it. In addition, he was dreaming about living on his own soon, so getting a sleeping bag was perfect timing.
At some point Baaskaa looked around and asked: so, this is all the same brand?
And yes indeed, it was. I am a big North Face fan, always have been. Blake was decked out in North Face and now all the kids had a good amount of North Face gear. In Mongolia North Face is available, but it's rare and expensive.
Whenever we would go out, we looked like a walking advertisement billboard. Three kids and two adults in a line, walking down the streets of UB, all dressed in North Face. I thought it was hilarious and funny, and I think I wasn’t the only one - we got quite a few looks.
I had laid out all the goodies and donations from New York, because originally I planned to bring a good portion with me to the country side. But we left in such a mad rush that I had no time to get organized.
The next day, I just yelled out “presents” when the doorbell rang.
Selenge arrived. We had awaited her eagerly, particular Baaskaa and me, because we needed to talk and this was an exchange that required a translator. Without much introduction, the conversation started. What do they look forward to in the future, what was their grievances and experience since I saw them last?
It was a very heated discussion where emotions ran high and the revelations weren’t always pretty. Nothing I didn’t see coming, but still, it is difficult to see them be disappointed, to see them struggle and be fearful of the very same things you try to protect them from.
If you want to get more details, you’ll have to wait until the film comes out.
After the conversation we were so exhausted that no one cared about presents. Hours later, finally, we were all ready and up for it. This time I called out “presents” and they came running.
It was hard not to get carried away and give them all of the clothes – I wanted to keep at least half of the donations to give to the care center kids.
Baaskaa was most happy when I gave him the sleeping bag. He watched me in my sleeping bag for the last two years and I could tell he really liked it. In addition, he was dreaming about living on his own soon, so getting a sleeping bag was perfect timing.
And yes indeed, it was. I am a big North Face fan, always have been. Blake was decked out in North Face and now all the kids had a good amount of North Face gear. In Mongolia North Face is available, but it's rare and expensive.
Whenever we would go out, we looked like a walking advertisement billboard. Three kids and two adults in a line, walking down the streets of UB, all dressed in North Face. I thought it was hilarious and funny, and I think I wasn’t the only one - we got quite a few looks.
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