Bayan Olgii - Aimag
(When I left Khovd, I called up Bolatbek, my one contact out west before coming to Mongolia. I soon settled into his home and became absorbed into the family with an ease that was confusing even to me. I ended up staying in Bolatbek and Asemgul's home on and off for three weeks and it became my home base while in Bayan Olgii. )
I spent most of my time in Olgii aimag sitting with the grandmas, drinking tea and eating borsak. I quickly became the babysitter for Mika and Jaldlik, Asemgul's two crazy children ages four and seven. The first week, I must have spent ten hours a day in that kitchen. I'd escape only on long walks which became progressively frequent and necessary. The hasha had a ger and a small house, a shed for the coal and another from the cow (their only animal). All the cooking was done in the single room kitchen/shed where we spent 90% of the time playing, cooking, washing clothes, twirling yarn and napping. The ger was for sleeping and for entertaining and the house was completely empty except for the winter stove built into the firewall and a light fixture or two.
Bolatbek and Asemgul lived virtually next door in a house empty by comparison. They gave me a key after I ad been there a few days. As no one was ever in the house, it became a small, but much needed sanctuary. I felt the lack of privacy and tried not to be overwhelmed by being talked to and fed and watched constantly. After three days, I was seeped in butter and all sorts of horsemeat, mutton and goat.
I eventually discover that the grandmas are not sisters, as I had imagined, but mother and daughter-in-law, which explains why one always sits in the corner on the bed and the other on a stool. There are four generations of women floating through the home and I hardly see any of the men.
Olgii aimag is another curious ex-soviet town full of decaying buildings – some abandoned and others in full use, thought it is awfully difficult to tell which is which. Most people go to the countryside for the summer and return around August of September to rebuild their houses and settle in for winter. The gers stay up until October, then people move indoors. This is different from Myangag Soum and other places I have visited further east where people live in their gers all winter.
In the center of town, there are concrete apartment buildings for the full time residents, the students, the young couples that have left their gers and animals and the countryside behind them. Outside of the main downtown, which is primarily comprised of vacant lots and unclear space, most people live in hashas (fenced-off courtyards) along winding haphazard walkways and dirt roads, a neighborhood made up of carved out spaces and treaded paths to the river or to the grasses where people keep their goats and the occasional city cow.
I wander around this side of town each afternoon until all of the neighborhood children catch on and begin to follow me in flocks.
Foreigners are better than television.
Especially when the Russians have turned off the power and no one can watch their TVs.
In some ways, Olgii is your typical aimag. There is running water and electricity (both of which stop from time to time). There is a central market, a government building, a handful of schools, a small hospital, a post office, a few small shops and a lot where jeeps and forgons wait for passengers to take to nearby soums and occasionally to farther destinations like Ulaan Baatar or Russia. Herders come to town to sell meat, dairy products and skins. A few farmers sell potatoes, cabbage and carrots (and apples in the fall). Kids come in from the countryside or from nearby soums for school. Every now and then a tourist shows up en route to Tavan Bogd Uul or some new volunteer/NGO/expat rolls into town for a year of two to teach English or capitalism or Jesus.
In other ways, Olgii is unique. The land here is gorgeous. There are forests and glaciers to the north and we're situated just on the eastern side of the Altai Mountains. But moreover, Bayan Olgii is a little island of Kazakhstan that just happens to be in Mongolia. People look as much west, across the border to Kazaksan as east to distant Ulaan Baatar for jobs, university and relatives. Lots of people don't speak Mongolian at all. The schools are in Kazakh; people watch Kazakh television, sing Kazakh songs and are nominally Muslim. Kazakh keegezoui are more likely to have a picture of Mecca than an alter and they don't necessarily face south or observe any of the same interior directionality that Buddhist gers do. Their style is slightly different and material culture is elaborate and beautiful with a thriving tradition of producing handmade rugs, tapestries and interior decoration.
After about two weeks, it was time to head out to the countryside. I didn't go far at first, only caught a ride out to Ulaanhaus soum (directly west of Olgii) where I stayed with Tessa, another Peace Corps volunteer and her hasha family in their keegezoui untill we packed it up and moved to their winter home...
I spent most of my time in Olgii aimag sitting with the grandmas, drinking tea and eating borsak. I quickly became the babysitter for Mika and Jaldlik, Asemgul's two crazy children ages four and seven. The first week, I must have spent ten hours a day in that kitchen. I'd escape only on long walks which became progressively frequent and necessary. The hasha had a ger and a small house, a shed for the coal and another from the cow (their only animal). All the cooking was done in the single room kitchen/shed where we spent 90% of the time playing, cooking, washing clothes, twirling yarn and napping. The ger was for sleeping and for entertaining and the house was completely empty except for the winter stove built into the firewall and a light fixture or two.
Bolatbek and Asemgul lived virtually next door in a house empty by comparison. They gave me a key after I ad been there a few days. As no one was ever in the house, it became a small, but much needed sanctuary. I felt the lack of privacy and tried not to be overwhelmed by being talked to and fed and watched constantly. After three days, I was seeped in butter and all sorts of horsemeat, mutton and goat.
I eventually discover that the grandmas are not sisters, as I had imagined, but mother and daughter-in-law, which explains why one always sits in the corner on the bed and the other on a stool. There are four generations of women floating through the home and I hardly see any of the men.
Olgii aimag is another curious ex-soviet town full of decaying buildings – some abandoned and others in full use, thought it is awfully difficult to tell which is which. Most people go to the countryside for the summer and return around August of September to rebuild their houses and settle in for winter. The gers stay up until October, then people move indoors. This is different from Myangag Soum and other places I have visited further east where people live in their gers all winter.
In the center of town, there are concrete apartment buildings for the full time residents, the students, the young couples that have left their gers and animals and the countryside behind them. Outside of the main downtown, which is primarily comprised of vacant lots and unclear space, most people live in hashas (fenced-off courtyards) along winding haphazard walkways and dirt roads, a neighborhood made up of carved out spaces and treaded paths to the river or to the grasses where people keep their goats and the occasional city cow.
I wander around this side of town each afternoon until all of the neighborhood children catch on and begin to follow me in flocks.
Foreigners are better than television.
Especially when the Russians have turned off the power and no one can watch their TVs.
In some ways, Olgii is your typical aimag. There is running water and electricity (both of which stop from time to time). There is a central market, a government building, a handful of schools, a small hospital, a post office, a few small shops and a lot where jeeps and forgons wait for passengers to take to nearby soums and occasionally to farther destinations like Ulaan Baatar or Russia. Herders come to town to sell meat, dairy products and skins. A few farmers sell potatoes, cabbage and carrots (and apples in the fall). Kids come in from the countryside or from nearby soums for school. Every now and then a tourist shows up en route to Tavan Bogd Uul or some new volunteer/NGO/expat rolls into town for a year of two to teach English or capitalism or Jesus.
In other ways, Olgii is unique. The land here is gorgeous. There are forests and glaciers to the north and we're situated just on the eastern side of the Altai Mountains. But moreover, Bayan Olgii is a little island of Kazakhstan that just happens to be in Mongolia. People look as much west, across the border to Kazaksan as east to distant Ulaan Baatar for jobs, university and relatives. Lots of people don't speak Mongolian at all. The schools are in Kazakh; people watch Kazakh television, sing Kazakh songs and are nominally Muslim. Kazakh keegezoui are more likely to have a picture of Mecca than an alter and they don't necessarily face south or observe any of the same interior directionality that Buddhist gers do. Their style is slightly different and material culture is elaborate and beautiful with a thriving tradition of producing handmade rugs, tapestries and interior decoration.
After about two weeks, it was time to head out to the countryside. I didn't go far at first, only caught a ride out to Ulaanhaus soum (directly west of Olgii) where I stayed with Tessa, another Peace Corps volunteer and her hasha family in their keegezoui untill we packed it up and moved to their winter home...
posted by steph carlisle at 3:47 AM
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