Spring has arrived

April in Mongolia. One day it snows, the next the sun beats down relentlessly, causing me to squint and curse the extra layer I chose to wear. Mongolian’s don’t like the spring. It is too unpredictable, they say; except for the wind. The howling gails tear at you and tug you in all directions. The dust is whipped into spiralling tornado’s 7 or 8 feet high or gathered into terrorfyingly solid clouds that sweep through the city or across the steppe.

But it is beautiful in Mongolia in spring. The snow has melted (almost), and the rocks are bared. The hue of the rock is an unusual purple/pink and with every little sprout of green feelings of joy at seeing life leap into my heart.

This weekend I managed to escape the busy city for a short while and found myself in such a wide expanse of nature that it was hard to believe that a short hours drive away the traffic is at a constant stand-still and soviet style apartment blocks force their way into your line of sight at every turn.

 

 

Planning for the Future – A Mongolian Careers Fair

When I first arrived in Mongolia to work for Lotus Children’s Centre, one of the things I wanted to do was to organise a careers fair for the older children. I really didn’t think it would be possible because the everyday running of the orphanage, the organisation and just the general hecticness of living in Mongolia took up most of my time.

But low and behold, if you want something to happen enough, it will happen. With the help of some amazing volunteers and lots of time and dedication, the first ever Lotus Children’s Centre Careers Fair happened this Saturday, and was a roaring success!

I’m really happy that I was able to do something that I feel is really worth while. This event will have lasting effects and is something that can be built on in the future. I hope that I will be able to help plan many more events like this!

Editor for UB Post

I may not have found time to update my blog, but somewhere along the line I have become a probationary editor for an independent English language newspaper, the UB Post….

I’m also expected to write articles, but we will see how that goes!

Here is my first one: published 20/04/2012

 

http://ubpost.mongolnews.mn/index.php/community/88888940-community-top/7120-two-sides-of-one-city-

 

Traditional Mongolian Music and Dance

On previous visits to Mongolian I had the pleasure of seeing traditional Mongolian music and dance performed. I wasn’t going to let the opportunity to see it again pass me by, so when some VSO volunteers I had met asked me along to see some, I leapt at the chance.

You may have heard of throat singing. This is but one of many tools used in Mongolia’s rich background of traditional music. Music is very important in Mongolian culture, and is unique both in style and in the instruments used. Other individual contributions to the musical world are that of the Mongolian long song and the horse head fiddle, or Morin Khuur. Themes of traditional songs include love (of course), philosophy, or celebration, but often use horses for symbolism, or as a theme repeated throughout the song. Much traditional music emulates the rhythmic sound of a horse galloping.

I can’t say much on the traditional dance, but the costumes are amazing! Apparently, the traditional Mongolian costume inspired the designers for Queen Amidala’s wardrobe in Star Wars (a little bit of geek slipping through there).

Here is a video I took of a traditonal dance.

I take it back; I can’t upload the video, so here are some photos from another time I saw some traditional music:

The morin khuur, or horse head fiddle

Children in traditional costumes playing the morin khuur

I’ll try the video again another time!

With a new year comes food, food, and more food

A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of experiencing Tsagaan Sar and the hospitality of Mongolian families at this time of year.  Tsagaan Sar means ‘white moon’ and is the Lunar New Year in Mongolia. A three day celebration is held where families visit each other, bring gifts and eat lots and lots of food, and drink lots and lots too.

In some ways it is comparable with our christmas celebrations in the west, where we visit our families, and gorge on good food. Each family unit will visit their relatives, the younger relatives going to the houses of the older. With each greeting a gift might be exchanged, and a warm welcome extended to rest and eat well in their home. Traditional phrases during this greeting include “Amar Baina uu?” meaning “Are you well rested”, accompanied by a type of hug where the elbows are held and a kiss or traditional mongolian ‘sniff’ is administered to both cheeks.

The kids lining up to do the Traditional Tsagaan Sar greeting with the Lotus Staff

Little girls in their tradtional costumes

Traditional Mongolian Costume, the Deel

I got my fair share of cultural education during these threes days! On the Wednesday, the first day of Tsagaan Sar, I visited the orphanage and experienced a full-on feast that the cook and house mothers had prepared. There were soups, sushi rolls, salads, vegetarian dumplings, noodles, rice, fruit and cakes. And in pride of place at the centre of the tables was a hug plate of biscuit bread piled high, with dried curd treats and sugar cubes on top. This was a magnificent construction, with special significance, which is pieced together in a complex manner. Apparently the bread itself takes a long time to make in a complex process and is imprinted with a traditional pattern on the inside. Each layer represents happiness and sadness. The top layer will always represent happiness, and before taking a treat from the top, you must touch the bottom of the pyramid.

One little boy wanted to eat the whole Tsagaan Sar cake!

Tsagaan Sar feast at Lotus

After our stupendous lunch we were invited to the Security man/maintenance man’s home. He lives in a ger on site at the orphanage with his wife. The spread of food offered to us was once again phenomenal. The carcass of a huge sheep had pride of place at the centre of the table, as is traditional, and we were served cuts of meat from this and the traditional Mongolian dumplings, buuz. When we entered the ger we had to complete the greeting ceremony, and we were then seated on the left side of the ger, sitting to the right of the head of the house, our security man. We were first offered his snuff bottle, which we had to accept by cupping our right hand around it, then taking a sniff, nodding to show our appreciation at its quality, then handing it back in the same manner. Then the vodka was poured! We were all offered a shot of vodka, and we had to either drink it in one, or dip our ring finger in and flick the residue into the air. (This is a mimic of Chinggis Khan who wore a ring that would warn of poison). His wife was busy cooking even more food on the coal stove and a tiny electric hotplate. Soon the buuz were produced, and I dug in, so as not to insult their hospitality. I’m not a big fan of Mongolian meat, because most of the time it is all fat and no meat! The fat is considered the best bit, because it is thought to keep you warm in the winter. But these buuz were delicious!

Soon more of the security man’s family turned up for the Tsagaan Sar celebrations, and we left as soon as we could to make room for the increasing number of children, parents and grandparents.

It is traditional to give presents on Tsagaan Sar as I mentioned above, so I used this opportunity to give the hats and mittens my grandma had knitted back in the UK. They are such lovely presents that I knew I had to give them to someone who would really appreciate them. So I decided to give them to the Rainbow kids, the special needs children that Lotus looks after. When we dropped them off at their home at the end of the day, they were so happy, I knew I had made the right decision!

One of our Rainbow kids wearing her new hat

Kids enjoying their Tsagaan Sar presents...sweeties!

A friend in need

Today is International Women’s Day. So to all the women out there, have a wonderful day! Know that you are appreciated and loved!

Over the last few weeks I have been trying to help a little boy who has lost his parents. His two sisters are being cared for in the hospital, but he has no-one to turn to for help. At first we couldn’t find the little boy, and he was living on the street. I was so worried, and everyday I would text my friend, ‘has the little boy been found?’. Thankfully he was found at last! Last week we took him to Lotus, but unfortunately he ran away. He was so sad to be separated from his sisters that he found his way all the way from the orphanage in Gachuurt, to the hospital where his sisters are staying, over 10km away.

My dear friend decided she would help to look after him and now he is staying with some boys who have recently graduated from a state orphanage. They are all living together near my friends home, and are part of a community that will love and value them. When his sisters are able to leave the hospital they will be reunited and will hopefully be able to move on with their lives.

But today, because it was Women’s Day my friend and I took Temuujin, the little boy, to visit his sisters in the hospital. He was so excited! His little face was lit up and he could hardly keep still. He had made them a card and was taking them a cake.

When we arrived we had to wait to buy masks to wear before we were allowed in. On went the masks (far too big for little Temuujin!) and up we went in a rickety lift. I was a little worried about what the condition of the hospital would be; would it be crowed, unsanitary, depressing? But in the little visitors area where we sat and met the sisters it was light and airy, there were paintings of elephants and cartoon characters on the walls, and the girls seemed to be well fed and looked clean.

Our visit was only brief, but in that half an hour they were all so happy together, smiling, singing and chatting, that I have to admit, I left like crying. Whether they would have been tears of happiness at seeing them together, or tears of sadness at the cruelty of life that has put them in this situation, I don’t know. All too soon it was time to leave, but still smiling little Temuujin kissed each of his sisters on the cheek and was eager to play with the lift buttons! When I first met him he uttered not a word, and was shy and withdrawn. Yes, he was polite and obviously intelligent, but the little boy that I saw today was completely different. It made me so happy!

I want to say thank you so much to my dear friends who have helped Temuujin and his sisters. I know that now I have met him, I will have to help him as much as I can in the future!

Mongolia, the land of blue skies and traffic jams

Sorry no pictures this week guys!

A busy week of work and more work, that is how my third week in Mongolia has felt. But with a feeling of accomplishment as well. On Tuesday I found myself going to the orphanage. This time by myself. No other volunteer to hold my hand and help me get on, and no English speakers either. I was supposed to leave at 9am, but an hour passed and the orphanage manager hadn’t called to say she was there, or indeed to tell me she wasn’t coming. So I waited with my bag ready and coat nearby. At 10 there came a commotion from outside, banging on the door downstairs and quite a racket. It took me about 10 minutes to realise it wasn’t a drunk guy who had forgotten the door code, but some old Mongolian ladies trying to get my attention! I do have a phone, they could have called me! So down I went, and I gathered that they were from the orphanage and we would be going together. All this is gestures and rapid Mongolian, which I didn’t catch a word of! All the while I had been waiting for the reception of the guesthouse to open, so I could do some washing, but there was no sign of the girls, and that meant no washing machine, and a lot of dirty clothes!

But anyway, following the Mongolian ladies out into the street I saw that no car was waiting and I wondered how they had gotten here, and how, more importantly, we were getting to the orphanage? But soon a little minibus stopped next to us, and I was shepherded onboard. This to me looked just like the other minibuses that act as public transport in UB, and I began to fret about how much it would cost. I only had a few thousand tugriks on me, and was worried that I might be expected to pay for the teachers as well! Ah, what a long, long journey it is to Gachuurt and the orphanage with the traffic being so bad. Eventually we arrived, but low and behold, everyone piled out and the mini bus drove away! Well, I was certainly not going to complain about not paying! The mystery of this was revealed later in the week, when I discovered that the minibus was driven by a driver employed by Lotus. The creeping feeling of very poor communication, which has nothing to do with language barriers, was at this point starting to sprout! If I have anything to do with it, that will soon change.

I must admit, getting to and from the orphanage is almost more stressful than it is worth. I can’t take a taxi, because I’m not paid and it costs over a tenner each way. I can’t afford £20 every time I want to get to my supposed place of work! And as for the bus, I’ve heard so many different answers. Oh, there isn’t one. There is one, but you have to get two, and it doesn’t go all the way. At any rate, I have no idea which number buses to get, and where I would have to change/get off. It would certainly be preferable to always being dependant on someone else! I dread to think how the older children get to school.

With that little adventure over, a new one began. Now at the orphanage I had to negotiate the whole day, and get home, with no-one there speaking English. At first it wasn’t so bad, I sat in the office and got on with my work. I certainly wasn’t short of work. At about 12 the volunteer I had been expecting arrived. Better late than never. She had brought a friend along, and lots of treats for the kindergarteners; little oranges, oreo cookies and milk. The kids loved it, of course! They stayed for an hour and a half, then had to leave. I was a little miffed that they stayed such a short time as this volunteer is meant to come twice a week to do educational play with the kindergarteners during the morning. But at least she came. The other volunteer that was meant to come didn’t even show up, and didn’t even have the courtesy to let me know. But again, I shouldn’t get too angry, as they are after-all giving up their free time.

Getting back to UB was, erm, interesting, to say the least. In a mixture of broken English, and very poor Mongolian I devised that the social workers who had been working in the office with me all day were getting the bus back to UB at 5pm. So I decided to tag along. How else was I meant to get back? At 5 we walked down the long track that leads from the orphanage centre to the road. This walk would probably take 20 minutes, but I didn’t find out because a car pulled over and gave us a lift. At the bottom of the track was apparently a bus stop. I had to take their word for it, as all I could see were a number of hashaa (fenced off areas where people build their homes or erect their ger), a little shop/cafe, and a number of very big, woolly cows. But they were right indeed, as a little green bus soon arrived and after doing a U-turn pulled up and stopped. On we jumped, and headed to the back of the now empty bus. This bus cost 600 tugriks (30p), if memory serves, and we sat on it for around 30 minutes while it navigated down the makeshift road and back onto the tarmac, and finally back onto the road that I knew, if followed in a straight line would take you back to the centre of UB. I tired to see where we went, but just as before, the bus windows were frozen, and now it was getting dark outside, I couldn’t see a thing. Without being able to see where we were, however, the social workers seemed able to navigate extra-ordinarily well. They gestured that it was the next stop, and so we stumbled down the moving bus to the door. One of the social workers told me the name of the stop, but it has escaped my memory. I think it is the name of an artist or composer, but it rang a bell, and I think I may have used the bus-stop before. I explained that I had to get back to Sukhbataar square, and they put me on the next trolley bus that came along. If you don’t know what a trolley bus is, it is similar to a tram, in that it can only go a set route. It runs via overhead wires, which in Mongolia always seem to spark dangerously. The trolley buses are the cheapest of the buses, only costing 200 tugriks, but they are slow, and can’t negotiate the terrible traffic of UB. I sat on that trolley bus for nearly an hour and a half, to go only 2 or 3 km. It was painful! I also had the worry that I would miss my stop, as again the windows were so iced over that I couldn’t see anything except the bright lights of the city. Luckily, I know Peace Avenue relatively well, and I spotted the light shop signs that I knew proceeded the approach of the centre of the city. I made ready to get off, but as luck would have it, we were now stuck at a junction. I watched cars pass in all directions. From North, South and West, but never did our line budge. For 30 minutes we waited, and the crowd on the bus was getting very restless! Eventually, the traffic policeman who was ordering the traffic must have seen the bus full of very angry passengers, and let our row across the junction. About time! Only the bus didn’t pull up at the next bus stop! Oh no, I though! Where on earth is this bus taking me? But it was fine. As we approached the State Department Store, a big building that can hardly be missed, the buss pulled over and I leapt off, glad to be free. By this time I was frozen solid. The bus had been cold, and I had been sat still from almost two hours. Luckily, I knew the perfect place to go, and it was only a 2 minute walk away.

Cafe Amsterdam! My refuge once again. I ordered a hot chocolate and was soon feeling myself again. I just had to brace myself for the 10 minute walk back in the cold and dark.