Mongolia: A Family Visit

The creaking of springs long worn by continuous use on rough terrain stirred me awake. I had fallen asleep in the back seat of Tumuruu’s off-road Mitsubishi van. The bench seat had become my spot during the long drives we were taking on this journey. An indentation had formed where I sat. I could stretch my legs out if I took this seat, although the constant bumps, sways and general movement of the vehicle was a discomfort that could not be gotten rid of. It was par for the course as we made our way through the Gobi and towards Orkhon Valley. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and took stock of my surroundings as Tumuruu slowed the vehicle. Apparently, there was something wrong that needed tending to.

It was amazing that Tumuruu knew where we were. I thought to myself that he grew up here and had probably driven this route countless times. Still, there were no roads or signs, only ruts and worn tracks in the dust and the occasional ger camp. Sometimes Tumuruu would have to stop and survey the landscape, looking for a landmark or something to point him in the right direction. I often wondered if he wasn’t in some way communing with nature for guidance. Without maps and a compass, or a keen and deep knowledge of the area, you’d easily get lost here.

Occasionally we’d stop at a ger and Tumuruu or Uuree would ask someone where we were or needed to go. At one ger we stopped at, a child of 2 or 3 was tied with a rope to a peg in the ground. The parents were off tending to their flock and had secured the child to a long leash to keep him from wandering off and getting lost. This isn’t uncommon in these parts. Options like daycare, or stay at home parenting aren’t a reality in this harsh environment. Survival depends on hard work taking care of the animals and that sometimes means being miles from home.

The child gazed at us inquisitively as we pulled up, his face covered in a thick layer of dust. His clothing dirty and unkempt. Baths are not part of a daily routine as water is rare and valuable in this part of the country.

A ger is more commonly known as a yurt. It is a traditional dwelling favoured by many Mongolians, particularly the herders. They are designed to be transportable and can be taken down and put up very quickly. It has two main components: a wooden framework and a felt cover to block out the constant wind and the bone-chilling cold of winter.

We’d noticed on our travels that almost every ger had a satellite dish connected to a solar panel. Tumuruu explained that it might be possible to get enough charge in a day to power the tv and satellite for an hour or two in the evening. It was a piece of modernity and connection to the outside world in an otherwise isolated and traditional way of life.

Once, while stopping to get our bearings, we were invited inside a nearby ger to meet the family. The sparse furnishings consisted of a wardrobe, bedding, a cabinet and a small television. Two children were playing off to the side. They looked up and stared at us as we entered. One of them ran to her mother and peered at us from behind her dress.

Their father greeted us warmly and we were asked to sit. The ger was surprisingly spacious inside considering what we were used to in the encampments we’d been sleeping in. These camps were basically Mongolian country “hotels”, the rooms being small gers. Often there would be a permanent structure for eating, and in some few luxurious cases a hot shower.

It is customary to give something when entering a ger. This is in exchange for hospitality which is freely given. The Mongolians have developed this integral part of their culture as a means of survival. You wouldn’t survive very long if strangers turned you away should you get lost. Shelter and warmth being difficult to find, especially during winter.

I had brought a pack of Marlboro cigarettes for moments like this and offered them to the man. He couldn’t believe I would part with such a treasure. American cigarettes being a luxury item in these parts. He immediately pulled out the bottom drawer of the wardrobe and withdrew a plastic bottle containing a milky white liquid. This was the family’s stash of ayrag, a mild alcoholic beverage made of fermented horse milk. Ayrag is more commonly known as kumis in other parts of central Asia. We passed around the drink over some conversation translated by Uuree. It is difficult to describe ayrag. I found it had a bit of a sour taste, almost like a yoghurt, and was a little fizzy.

We were invited once more into a family’s ger further along the road. They were in the middle of making aaruul, a Mongolian cheese curd that is a staple among the nomadic people. Once again, we exchanged gifts and sat down to try some of the aaruul. It can be quite hard and chewy with a strong taste. We washed it down with some ayrag. Aaruul is believed to strengthen teeth and gums. This was confirmed by all the bright white smiles we saw.

Uuree had brought out some snacks while Tumuruu tended to the Mitsubishi. We had just finished eating the Kropbka wafers, a delicious Russian snack, when Tumuruu announced the repairs complete. Our next stop would take us out of the desert and into the Orkhon Valley.