Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Back home, in the same confused state as always.
It took almost four years and a handful of people on two sides of the globe, to see the kids get well and and become inspired!
You have to be willing to get bruised, bitten and scratched, metaphorical speaking, not literally. If you allow them to do that, without turning away, only then will they trust you. Eventually.
I am glad I stuck it out.
You have to be willing to get bruised, bitten and scratched, metaphorical speaking, not literally. If you allow them to do that, without turning away, only then will they trust you. Eventually.
I am glad I stuck it out.
Friday, September 9, 2011
A Cow's Attachement
After my adventures in Gobi, I headed out to visit Nasa and to transport her cow and yurt. – The things I say and do that I could have never imagined myself getting close to!! ☺
As for now, she will stay with Byambaa until we find another solution. Or until it turns out that living with Byambaa is the right solution all along.
When I finally got to visit Nasa’s new (and my constant) home in the country side I was surprised to see her happy and in a light mood, laughing and chatting up a storm. I have never seen her that talkative, or self-sufficient. She would participate in conversations, in group- and household activities without having to be reminded or encouraged.
Nasa had repeatedly asked for her cow and yurt, so we organized the move of her belongings from her former foster family to Byambaa. Ayuraa had brought a mini truck and a couple friends for support. Byambaa had sent his new helper, the replacement for Vannie, on horse, to walk the cows to their new home.
The yurt was dismantled and on the truck in no time. The men had just taken the yurt apart, while everything inside the yurt sat on the grass, untouched, still in the round arrangement, with the stove in the middle.
Catching the cows was another story. Nasa’s original cow was behaving so difficult that the family, with Nasa’s agreement, decided to slaughtered her last summer. Nevertheless, Nasa still had her two-year old calf. As a surprise gift, Ayuraa choose another cow, so Nasa could contribute two cows to her new family. (What Ayuraa says goes! Nasa’s former foster family just nodded in accord when Ayurra suggested a second cow for Nasa. Cows are expensive!) I discovered that Ayurra is quite impressive as a cowboy, the way he threw the rope! After a good workout for everyone involved, the cows were tied up and ready to go. Or so we thought.
We drove back to Byambaa, Ayuraa and his truck left, we had dinner, watched TV – yes, they have a new 13” flat screen TV, with 12 channels of programming! – and went to bed. The man on horse, bringing the cows, never returned.
The next morning he came for his usual tea and reported about his struggle. He had managed to move the cows two miles within four hours and had finally given up when it turned dark. Like horses, cows always return. These two had no intention to move to a new home!
Nasa took it pretty lightly, but announced she’d go and fetch them. We had a hard time holding her back, as she was not concerned about walking the 8 miles, one way, with two unwilling cows. But on the other hand, no one wanted to call Ayuraa, to tell him to come back with his truck and helpers. Those are the moments I am relieved to life in a city and spared the hard ships of country life!
I am still waiting to hear how the story continues.
Photos by Temuulen Khos-Erdene
As for now, she will stay with Byambaa until we find another solution. Or until it turns out that living with Byambaa is the right solution all along.
When I finally got to visit Nasa’s new (and my constant) home in the country side I was surprised to see her happy and in a light mood, laughing and chatting up a storm. I have never seen her that talkative, or self-sufficient. She would participate in conversations, in group- and household activities without having to be reminded or encouraged.
Nasa had repeatedly asked for her cow and yurt, so we organized the move of her belongings from her former foster family to Byambaa. Ayuraa had brought a mini truck and a couple friends for support. Byambaa had sent his new helper, the replacement for Vannie, on horse, to walk the cows to their new home.
The yurt was dismantled and on the truck in no time. The men had just taken the yurt apart, while everything inside the yurt sat on the grass, untouched, still in the round arrangement, with the stove in the middle.
Catching the cows was another story. Nasa’s original cow was behaving so difficult that the family, with Nasa’s agreement, decided to slaughtered her last summer. Nevertheless, Nasa still had her two-year old calf. As a surprise gift, Ayuraa choose another cow, so Nasa could contribute two cows to her new family. (What Ayuraa says goes! Nasa’s former foster family just nodded in accord when Ayurra suggested a second cow for Nasa. Cows are expensive!) I discovered that Ayurra is quite impressive as a cowboy, the way he threw the rope! After a good workout for everyone involved, the cows were tied up and ready to go. Or so we thought.
We drove back to Byambaa, Ayuraa and his truck left, we had dinner, watched TV – yes, they have a new 13” flat screen TV, with 12 channels of programming! – and went to bed. The man on horse, bringing the cows, never returned.
The next morning he came for his usual tea and reported about his struggle. He had managed to move the cows two miles within four hours and had finally given up when it turned dark. Like horses, cows always return. These two had no intention to move to a new home!
Nasa took it pretty lightly, but announced she’d go and fetch them. We had a hard time holding her back, as she was not concerned about walking the 8 miles, one way, with two unwilling cows. But on the other hand, no one wanted to call Ayuraa, to tell him to come back with his truck and helpers. Those are the moments I am relieved to life in a city and spared the hard ships of country life!
I am still waiting to hear how the story continues.
Photos by Temuulen Khos-Erdene
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
And Now, the Emergency.
At the end of my last trip in the spring, Nasa moved in with a new foster family in the city, so she could continue to go to school. Sadly, she didn’t manage to stay in school or integrate into her new family. The happenings and changes Nasa went through within a month were intense, would have been for everyone, and Nasa is not well equipped when it comes to mastering life’s challenges.
Apparently, it all started with her saving her bus money. She rode to school in the morning all right, but in order to safe some money she changed buses on her way home, every time the conductor asked her for a ticket. She wanted to keep her bus money to buy chewing gum. The regular bus ride takes an hour, but with her method, it took her four to five hours. While hanging out at various bus stops, she ran into an old friend and started to hang out with her. That was the beginning of the end of Nasa’s school career.
The situation escalated and Nasa stayed out overnight repeatedly. One morning she returned bloody and severely beaten, which finally prompted her foster family to call Ayurra. He brought her to the care center for medical treatment and desperate to find a new home for Nasa, with less temptation, he called Byambaa, who agreed to take her in.
This development saddens me, but honestly, living with Byambaa is the best solution I can think off. Byambaa and Byaraa, the saviors of all our children!
Apparently Nasa was raging for the first week, but they hang in and sat it out. Now she is doing fine. She is getting close to Bymabaa’s wife Byaraa, who’s an extremely patient teacher. It makes me happy that Nasa finally has a woman in her life who treats her well and warmly and is willing to take the time to teach her some life skills.
Apparently, it all started with her saving her bus money. She rode to school in the morning all right, but in order to safe some money she changed buses on her way home, every time the conductor asked her for a ticket. She wanted to keep her bus money to buy chewing gum. The regular bus ride takes an hour, but with her method, it took her four to five hours. While hanging out at various bus stops, she ran into an old friend and started to hang out with her. That was the beginning of the end of Nasa’s school career.
The situation escalated and Nasa stayed out overnight repeatedly. One morning she returned bloody and severely beaten, which finally prompted her foster family to call Ayurra. He brought her to the care center for medical treatment and desperate to find a new home for Nasa, with less temptation, he called Byambaa, who agreed to take her in.
This development saddens me, but honestly, living with Byambaa is the best solution I can think off. Byambaa and Byaraa, the saviors of all our children!
Apparently Nasa was raging for the first week, but they hang in and sat it out. Now she is doing fine. She is getting close to Bymabaa’s wife Byaraa, who’s an extremely patient teacher. It makes me happy that Nasa finally has a woman in her life who treats her well and warmly and is willing to take the time to teach her some life skills.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Precious Moments
How do you preserve these brief, precious moments of true connection, which make everything else appear to be an approximation?
Shortly before boarding my plane Selenge informed me that no one could get a hold of Baaskaa. From their last phone conversation, he knew that and when I’d come, but now she couldn’t find him. I have to admit this information inspired mostly negative thoughts. Once in Mongolia, I heard stories, which seem to confirm my suspicions, and almost broke my heart. Nevertheless, when I actually listened to my instinct and intuition, I felt that he was fine and doing well.
After a bit of detective work, Baaskaa reappeared, knocking at the door of my guesthouse, with a huge smile, while leaning on his new mountain bike.
He went through some ups and down since we parted in May. Some jobs were better then others, some were paid, some were not. Over time, he connected with good people and found a job he liked. On a construction site in UB, he met a nice couple, with whom he stays now. His boss, taking a liking to him, recommended him for a job in a gold mine in West Mongolia, where he can operate the excavator. (Mainly, because the actual driver is nursing his vodka bottle a little too much while on duty).
When he told me his story, or stories, I felt such a pride; I could not help it but to tear up. That moment at the kitchen table will never come back. Baaskaa, being a man now, telling me about his accomplishments, looking for my reaction and my approval, and his pride, when he sees me so moved.
Naturally, I love that he became independent, but I also have to accept the changes and their impact on our interaction . Gone are the days of us being in the countryside, with a slightly awkward feeling as we try to figure each other out, I always with a mission, he always wondering what will be next. Gone are the days when he offered me what ever he had, like inviting me to sit on a horse (you really couldn’t call it riding) and leading me up the mountain, asking me to trust him, when I gasped in fear. Gone are the days when he waited for my return to help him change his circumstances. The Baaskaa of the last four years faded, and a new, mature person surfaced.
Shortly before boarding my plane Selenge informed me that no one could get a hold of Baaskaa. From their last phone conversation, he knew that and when I’d come, but now she couldn’t find him. I have to admit this information inspired mostly negative thoughts. Once in Mongolia, I heard stories, which seem to confirm my suspicions, and almost broke my heart. Nevertheless, when I actually listened to my instinct and intuition, I felt that he was fine and doing well.
After a bit of detective work, Baaskaa reappeared, knocking at the door of my guesthouse, with a huge smile, while leaning on his new mountain bike.
He went through some ups and down since we parted in May. Some jobs were better then others, some were paid, some were not. Over time, he connected with good people and found a job he liked. On a construction site in UB, he met a nice couple, with whom he stays now. His boss, taking a liking to him, recommended him for a job in a gold mine in West Mongolia, where he can operate the excavator. (Mainly, because the actual driver is nursing his vodka bottle a little too much while on duty).
When he told me his story, or stories, I felt such a pride; I could not help it but to tear up. That moment at the kitchen table will never come back. Baaskaa, being a man now, telling me about his accomplishments, looking for my reaction and my approval, and his pride, when he sees me so moved.
Naturally, I love that he became independent, but I also have to accept the changes and their impact on our interaction . Gone are the days of us being in the countryside, with a slightly awkward feeling as we try to figure each other out, I always with a mission, he always wondering what will be next. Gone are the days when he offered me what ever he had, like inviting me to sit on a horse (you really couldn’t call it riding) and leading me up the mountain, asking me to trust him, when I gasped in fear. Gone are the days when he waited for my return to help him change his circumstances. The Baaskaa of the last four years faded, and a new, mature person surfaced.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
The Sand Dunes of South Gobi
I have seen quite a bit throughout my travels but the beauty of our planet and these unexpected moments of enlightenment never seize to amaze me.
After our successful journey to Dalanzadad in the South Gobi, we met with the principle who had agreed to give Vannie a chance, even so he lacks the educational requirements which were recently implemented in Mongolia.
The school combines a vocational program with regular high school. In short, in two and a half years, Vannie will have a high school diploma and a profession of his choice.
Vannie is not a boy of many words, but I could see that he was excited. And not a bit scared. After a three-year absence, he’ll have to become re-accustomed to the tight schedule and requirements of schooling, while learning to operate heavy machinery, while catching up on the grades seventh through ninth, which he lacks so far. He says he can do it and I believe him. I have the feeling he understands that this is pretty much his one – if not only - chance to get out of the funk of his dependency and be defined by what by what he has to offer, rather then what he lacks.
The principle asked us to return the next day to settle all forms, signatures and payments, so we found ourselves with half a day of free time in the South Gobi. I so rarely have half a day of free time that I decided I wanted to be a tourist for once!
We hired a driver with a Russian jeep to drive to the Sand Dunes, which were supposed to be three hours away. On the way, we would visit the Valley of the Vultures, a narrow mountain formation, which Mongolians describe as their mini Grand Canyon.
We walked along the stream that had carved its way through the valley. The mountains above us became so narrow that the sun wouldn’t reach, unless it was straight above us. Somehow, the valley reminded me on Peter Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock. I could easily see us disappear into another world, never to be heard from again.
Unfortunately, we had to rush through the valley in order to make it before sundown to the Sand Dunes. It turned out all the rushing didn’t help, mainly because the drive was six hours instead of the promised three. I should have known better.
By the time we arrived, I had permanent nerve damage in my butt (after all we just survived a 16 hour bus ride!) and was mad as hell. The sun was just about to disappear, so the three of us hopped out of the car and rushed towards the dunes. As soon as we arrived on the top of the first dune, my mood changed. It is a magical place; Sahara like dunes in the middle of an oasis, surrounded by mountains.
The mountains are said to be three women. They once met three herders, who promised to return for them. The woman waited, first patiently then desperately, but no one came. Because of their deep sadness and longing, they turned into stone and became the mountains that now runs alongside the ever-moving sand dunes. When the wind quiets down, you can still hear them calling for their men.
It’s a Mongolian tradition to write your name into the sand while in the dunes. Surprisingly – or maybe not – Vannie kept moving from spot to spot, writing his name just to cover it up with sand again. Those are the moments I would like to preserve, hoping that eventually they will forgive us, and themselves.
We suddenly heard a thundering noise. With the last sliver of daylight a team of horses appeared at the ridge of the dunes, galloping towards us. It was so surreal. Apparently they went home, as horses always do, which I didn’t know. There is a story of a horse that was given as a gift to the Vietnamese Prime Minister, when he visited Mongolia. They flew the horse to Vietnam, where it escaped and eventually, many months later, it reappeared in Mongolia, at his true owner’s yurt. I love that story.
For having been in the Sand Dunes of South Gobi for exactly 25 minutes, I have seen and felt quite a bit!
After our successful journey to Dalanzadad in the South Gobi, we met with the principle who had agreed to give Vannie a chance, even so he lacks the educational requirements which were recently implemented in Mongolia.
The school combines a vocational program with regular high school. In short, in two and a half years, Vannie will have a high school diploma and a profession of his choice.
Vannie is not a boy of many words, but I could see that he was excited. And not a bit scared. After a three-year absence, he’ll have to become re-accustomed to the tight schedule and requirements of schooling, while learning to operate heavy machinery, while catching up on the grades seventh through ninth, which he lacks so far. He says he can do it and I believe him. I have the feeling he understands that this is pretty much his one – if not only - chance to get out of the funk of his dependency and be defined by what by what he has to offer, rather then what he lacks.
The principle asked us to return the next day to settle all forms, signatures and payments, so we found ourselves with half a day of free time in the South Gobi. I so rarely have half a day of free time that I decided I wanted to be a tourist for once!
We hired a driver with a Russian jeep to drive to the Sand Dunes, which were supposed to be three hours away. On the way, we would visit the Valley of the Vultures, a narrow mountain formation, which Mongolians describe as their mini Grand Canyon.
We walked along the stream that had carved its way through the valley. The mountains above us became so narrow that the sun wouldn’t reach, unless it was straight above us. Somehow, the valley reminded me on Peter Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock. I could easily see us disappear into another world, never to be heard from again.
Unfortunately, we had to rush through the valley in order to make it before sundown to the Sand Dunes. It turned out all the rushing didn’t help, mainly because the drive was six hours instead of the promised three. I should have known better.
By the time we arrived, I had permanent nerve damage in my butt (after all we just survived a 16 hour bus ride!) and was mad as hell. The sun was just about to disappear, so the three of us hopped out of the car and rushed towards the dunes. As soon as we arrived on the top of the first dune, my mood changed. It is a magical place; Sahara like dunes in the middle of an oasis, surrounded by mountains.
The mountains are said to be three women. They once met three herders, who promised to return for them. The woman waited, first patiently then desperately, but no one came. Because of their deep sadness and longing, they turned into stone and became the mountains that now runs alongside the ever-moving sand dunes. When the wind quiets down, you can still hear them calling for their men.
It’s a Mongolian tradition to write your name into the sand while in the dunes. Surprisingly – or maybe not – Vannie kept moving from spot to spot, writing his name just to cover it up with sand again. Those are the moments I would like to preserve, hoping that eventually they will forgive us, and themselves.
We suddenly heard a thundering noise. With the last sliver of daylight a team of horses appeared at the ridge of the dunes, galloping towards us. It was so surreal. Apparently they went home, as horses always do, which I didn’t know. There is a story of a horse that was given as a gift to the Vietnamese Prime Minister, when he visited Mongolia. They flew the horse to Vietnam, where it escaped and eventually, many months later, it reappeared in Mongolia, at his true owner’s yurt. I love that story.
For having been in the Sand Dunes of South Gobi for exactly 25 minutes, I have seen and felt quite a bit!
Friday, September 2, 2011
On The Way to Gobi
The emergency that brought me back here was caused by Nasa, but by the time I managed to free my schedule, it was almost 1st of September, the official start day for all schools in Mongolia.
Nasa will have to wait until Vannie’s new life is settled.
Upon my arrival on Friday night and still at the airport, Khosoo surprised me with good news and a plan. He had found a vocational school that would accept Vannie, even so he lacks the requirements. The school is located in Gobi, the new center of economical development in the deep south of Mongolia.
I always wanted to go to Gobi, that magical place so far away and untouched. I didn’t expected to go there by bus though, more like a flying carpet, or a modern airplane?! But money is always tight, and if the Mongolians can do it, I can do it too!
Besides, half the time I am not making these decisions, but they are made for me. I was granted one day of rest – which wasn’t really a rest, since I went to the countryside to pick up Vannie. Vannie listened carefully when we mapped out the next two-and-a-half years of his life and agreed without a moment of hesistation. His excitement, even so he didn't show much of it, was motivating.
The next day in the early am, Khosoo’s son Temuulen, Vannie and I climbed into that rattling Russian mini bus for a 16 hour drive to Gobi. I accepted the baby that someone deposited into my lab, in addition to the oversized bag of who knows who’s, and off we went.
You think it’s not possible, but it is. And then there are these moments, that made it all worth it, if not magical.
Nasa will have to wait until Vannie’s new life is settled.
Upon my arrival on Friday night and still at the airport, Khosoo surprised me with good news and a plan. He had found a vocational school that would accept Vannie, even so he lacks the requirements. The school is located in Gobi, the new center of economical development in the deep south of Mongolia.
I always wanted to go to Gobi, that magical place so far away and untouched. I didn’t expected to go there by bus though, more like a flying carpet, or a modern airplane?! But money is always tight, and if the Mongolians can do it, I can do it too!
Besides, half the time I am not making these decisions, but they are made for me. I was granted one day of rest – which wasn’t really a rest, since I went to the countryside to pick up Vannie. Vannie listened carefully when we mapped out the next two-and-a-half years of his life and agreed without a moment of hesistation. His excitement, even so he didn't show much of it, was motivating.
The next day in the early am, Khosoo’s son Temuulen, Vannie and I climbed into that rattling Russian mini bus for a 16 hour drive to Gobi. I accepted the baby that someone deposited into my lab, in addition to the oversized bag of who knows who’s, and off we went.
You think it’s not possible, but it is. And then there are these moments, that made it all worth it, if not magical.
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