Emmergency Trip

I am back on my way to Mongolia. We seem to have a couple emergencies which need to be solved. Now. Who would have thought I get to go back so quickly!

Making It Happen

So far, I could only guess how difficult it is to raise a child properly (what ever that means!), but this trip was a true revelation.

I bet I still can only guess. As the philosopher Thomas Nagel puts it, if you want to know what it is like to be a bat you have to be a bat, otherwise you simply imagining yourself as a bat.

Quite a few people got involved to organize schooling for Nasa and securing a job interview for Baaskaa. Orphaned kids, who don’t belong to anyone in particular, but to an abstract entity like a government, need a huge amount of support to get things done.

There is me, who initiate things; then there is Selenge, who gets things rolling; her friend or acquaintance who knows someone who in turn can put us in touch with someone else; and then the actual target figures, the teacher or the manager. To complicate things even further, they then have to be willing to be lenient, because our kids rarely meet basic requirements. They often don’t have a proper ID card, an address or a social security number. Teaching our kids, or employing them, is always more work for the respective authority. Our kids don’t have an education that holds up with others, they have not learned linear thinking or planning. While today is crucial, they don’t perceive tomorrow as significant. These disadvantages need to be recognized by the teacher or manager and dealt with individually.

Nevertheless, we got it done. I am very proud of our results, but without Selenge, nothing would have happened. She was the one who got the right information, made the right connections and persuaded people in the right position to listen to the kids.

I am not the only one who recognized that. When asked about our relationship, Baaskaa announced us as his Mongolian and American mothers.

We made it back home

I miss the kids. I miss watching them try to understand the world, or at least the task at hand. I even miss helping Nasa with her math homework. Somewhat. I long for their laughter and their tender touches.

There is nothing else to say.

Leaving Baaskaa behind

That’s it, we have reached the end of our journey. We spent our last night packing and cleaning up. As usual, my luggage shrank and contains now mostly folded duffle bags and felt slippers, thank-you gifts for donors. What was our home got retransformed into an anonymous, public space.

Our plane leaves in the early morning hours. I had envisioned one last breakfast, just Baaskaa and me, but Ayuraa and Khosoo come to pick us up unexpectedly early, when Baaskaa is still asleep. All I can do is to wake him up and tell him to come down for the final good-bye.

The night is moonless and cold and only one sad bulb illuminates the courtyard, casting a green light. This is where we’ll have to part.

While the last suitcases are being pushed into the car, I pull Baaskaa aside, and immediately all action stops. Everyone stares at us, waiting for what will happen next. (Baaskaa is proud that he never cries when I leave but I know this time he’ll struggle. I always cry, I don’t even try to hide it anymore!)

Under the stare of everyone I don’t know what to say, other then the usual “Be careful, stay strong, write me, call Selenge when you need something, don’t go with strangers, etc”, and I hug him tight. Every time I have to leave him behind, I need to hug him a bit longer.

Then everything becomes a movie. I am in the car, the car drives off, out of the back window, I see Baaskaa become smaller and smaller in the distance, roving in circles, a tense lion measuring his cage. Then we make a right turn and I loose sight of him.

I would give a lot, A LOT, for never having to say good-bye to him again.

Leaving Nasa behind

Today we dropped Nasa with her new family. They are wonderful people, strong, quiet and determined. Nasa will be surrounded by three generations; the grandfather, who watches the baby, while the mother is at work, and two girls, ages six and nine. These are perfect siblings for Nasa, who loves having younger friends and taking care of babies. The girls can help Nasa with her homework, since they are in similar grade levels.

The family takes care of Ayuraa’s summerhouse. It's an old tradition in Mongolia, stemming from their past as herder’s. In order to give the pasture time to recover for the next season, herders graze their animals in different places during the summer and winter. City people followed this tradition – if they can afford it – and built summerhouses out in the country, where they would spend their vacation.

The only drawback for Nasa is the one-hour bus ride, each way, to get to school. On her first morning, Selenge and I joined Nasa for her first bus ride. To my surprise, her foster mom Narangarel accompanied us, because she wanted to introduce herself to Nasa's teacher.

I love to take the bus in UB, but no one ever lets me. My friends are concerned that it would be too dangerous, which is almost cute - after all I am living in NYC! Riding the bus in UB is like any other public event. There are no physical boundaries. When the bus gets full, you find yourself squeezed with three people on a two-seat bench and an unknown baby or over sized bag on your lab. Nasa doesn’t like tight crowds; she was constantly trying to create space around her, in vain.

After school, I walked her to the stop, to make sure she takes the right bus home. I wrote down the number on a slip of paper for her to keep, so every time a bus came, she compared the numbers, happy to find them match after a while.

This was also our good bye.

Earlier in the morning Nasa and I were waiting in front of the classroom for the teacher’s arrival. Nasa was talkative, holding and squeezing my hand, not letting go of me for a second. In the afternoon, when we had the camera rolling, she was a cool cat, not flinching once when we had to part. She gave me a slight nod and climbed into the bus. I had to call her back to give her a hug, but then she quickly disappeared into the crowd.