I have long been curious to see what happens when you take away all you know to be true of culture and relating to the world, what is left? I have left the modern world (except for a cell phone or two) and entered the daily life of the nomadic herder in Mongolia. This wonderful family that has taken me in are living mostly as their ancestors have for a thousand years. They were willing to guide me, a huge ignorant white woman, in the ways of this world. Some things I already know from my time in Alaska. I can chop wood and build a good fire and haul things around. But working with animals is all new, and the cultural competency is slowly building as I learn the taboos and the etiquette. We pass the dictionary back and forth, and if that doesn’t work, we give up and play charades until it seems we understand each other. It is working surprisingly well.
The first day was all about logistics. I brought the local English teacher to help translate, though it was hard for us to understand each other, too. Her conversation skills are still developing and she hasn’t had a lot of opportunity to practice outside of the classroom. I had to figure out: where will I eat, sleep, and shit? How can I make sure I have boiled water everyday? How will I manage my diabetes? (This requires figuring out the new food, time of day to eat, how much activity I am doing and adjusting my medications accordingly.) I had understood they had an extra ger for me to use. When I arrived, they did have 2 gers, but both were in full use. One was full of cooking food and sleeping boys, and one was the main family ger. I was a little distraught. How was this going to work? I wanted to make sure that I had a place I would be comfortable without taking something important from them. Finally, they decided to move the kitchen into the big ger, and I would have one-third to half of the bed, and a table to use for my things in the small ger. I have a stove I can boil my own water on, and they will continue to use the other half of the ger for storage and sometimes to cook when needed. One or two teenage girls will share the bed at night (I made it clear I would only share with females). Now that I have things set up, it feels totally fine. I have my area that will not be disturbed, and am learning to live with people coming and going from the ger without announcement or formality.
The second problem was a little embarrassing but so crucial that I released my discomfort about it and everyone took it on as a community problem to solve. I did not grow up squatting, and have a hard time squatting for long enough to relax enough to take care of business. They have an outhouse that is a deep hole with 2 boards suspended over the top to squat on. I needed some kind of system that would support me. One fellow that lives at the camp named Ma took on the problem with enthusiasm. He made everyone laugh as he tried different solutions like balancing on a stool with one butt cheek or putting one cheek each on a small stool. We drew pictures back and forth of our ideas. Should we use stones? Wood? Finally, it was the mom of the family, Enhee, that had the idea to use an old bucket, turned upside down with a hole cut in the top. The two teenage boys and I pitched in and the four of us (with Ma) dug a deep hole small enough across that the bucket would not fall in. Ma used tin snips to cut the hole and pliers to bend the sharp metal away from the opening. We put fabric around 4 poles for a privacy screen. Now there is a Western style outhouse next to the squat outhouse everyone else uses. They have a more natural attitude about bodily functions here. No hang ups like I (and many Westerners) have about it. I embraced this cultural norm and was able to laugh and use it as a way to connect. Solving a problem together is a great opportunity to bond, and the toilet works great!
The other aspects of this life will take time for me to understand. I am learning 10-15 words a day, and getting fast at using my dictionary. Everyone is encouraging my attempts, though my bad accent makes it hard for them to understand as I try to speak from the dictionary. On my second day here, I was making new simple complete sentences in Mongolian that were grammatically correct without looking at my dictionary. Other times, I struggled to remember a word I have looked up 20 times. After 2 weeks, I know enough to aid in getting basic needs met, and I can get most questions answered using our lexicon of gestures and my broken Mongolian.
It is a process requiring great patience on both sides, and I think Enhee understands this. I feel the whole family has taken a liking to me, and I am quickly being accepted as one of them. That connection despite great differences of experience and language is what brought me here. Though it is uncomfortable at times, it is an extraordinary feeling.
The first day was all about logistics. I brought the local English teacher to help translate, though it was hard for us to understand each other, too. Her conversation skills are still developing and she hasn’t had a lot of opportunity to practice outside of the classroom. I had to figure out: where will I eat, sleep, and shit? How can I make sure I have boiled water everyday? How will I manage my diabetes? (This requires figuring out the new food, time of day to eat, how much activity I am doing and adjusting my medications accordingly.) I had understood they had an extra ger for me to use. When I arrived, they did have 2 gers, but both were in full use. One was full of cooking food and sleeping boys, and one was the main family ger. I was a little distraught. How was this going to work? I wanted to make sure that I had a place I would be comfortable without taking something important from them. Finally, they decided to move the kitchen into the big ger, and I would have one-third to half of the bed, and a table to use for my things in the small ger. I have a stove I can boil my own water on, and they will continue to use the other half of the ger for storage and sometimes to cook when needed. One or two teenage girls will share the bed at night (I made it clear I would only share with females). Now that I have things set up, it feels totally fine. I have my area that will not be disturbed, and am learning to live with people coming and going from the ger without announcement or formality.
The second problem was a little embarrassing but so crucial that I released my discomfort about it and everyone took it on as a community problem to solve. I did not grow up squatting, and have a hard time squatting for long enough to relax enough to take care of business. They have an outhouse that is a deep hole with 2 boards suspended over the top to squat on. I needed some kind of system that would support me. One fellow that lives at the camp named Ma took on the problem with enthusiasm. He made everyone laugh as he tried different solutions like balancing on a stool with one butt cheek or putting one cheek each on a small stool. We drew pictures back and forth of our ideas. Should we use stones? Wood? Finally, it was the mom of the family, Enhee, that had the idea to use an old bucket, turned upside down with a hole cut in the top. The two teenage boys and I pitched in and the four of us (with Ma) dug a deep hole small enough across that the bucket would not fall in. Ma used tin snips to cut the hole and pliers to bend the sharp metal away from the opening. We put fabric around 4 poles for a privacy screen. Now there is a Western style outhouse next to the squat outhouse everyone else uses. They have a more natural attitude about bodily functions here. No hang ups like I (and many Westerners) have about it. I embraced this cultural norm and was able to laugh and use it as a way to connect. Solving a problem together is a great opportunity to bond, and the toilet works great!
The other aspects of this life will take time for me to understand. I am learning 10-15 words a day, and getting fast at using my dictionary. Everyone is encouraging my attempts, though my bad accent makes it hard for them to understand as I try to speak from the dictionary. On my second day here, I was making new simple complete sentences in Mongolian that were grammatically correct without looking at my dictionary. Other times, I struggled to remember a word I have looked up 20 times. After 2 weeks, I know enough to aid in getting basic needs met, and I can get most questions answered using our lexicon of gestures and my broken Mongolian.
It is a process requiring great patience on both sides, and I think Enhee understands this. I feel the whole family has taken a liking to me, and I am quickly being accepted as one of them. That connection despite great differences of experience and language is what brought me here. Though it is uncomfortable at times, it is an extraordinary feeling.
Fantastic story! We are all they same, not matter where we live!
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