Kindergarten Ger

Please excuse the change in tenses. I was going to edit this so it read smoothly, but that takes the fun and the real-ness out of it. So you get it, retarded bits ‘n all.

Friday June 17 2011

Nothing better than a single stale piece of bread for breakfast (no butter, no toast).

We jumped in the car for a 200m drive (yeah, I know - ?!), arrived late and…..

Christ almighty. No one told me this would be fancy! I put the same clothes on as yesterday – bloody practical North Face gear. I brushed my hair – only because I had dreadlocks from the car ride yesterday.

F*** a dude is filming me writing! Hopefully he doesn’t see detail. I covered it with my hand…. This is not dissimilar to a room at Parliament House in Canberra. It’s obviously a rich soum – there’s a copper mine in town that helps a lot I imagine.

This morning at breakfast I said to my boss ‘that’s brave of you – to wear a white shirt in the field!’ (he was wearing a long sleeved, button up white shirt). Turns out he KNEW and he didn’t tell me! There’s a film crew going around (five cameras in total). I attempted to make my ponytail look fancy and am so glad I washed my face this morning!

I rolled my pants and sleeves down in order to look semi-respectable. THIS is why I DO NOT WEAR practical gear. Shit.

This soum is very grateful for the work and money our project has given but I imagine it’s just they’re capable of showing it. They’ve got the facilities and the capacity. All other soum centres I’ve visited have been nothing short of a pokey room in an old soviet building.

The main camera man is sucking a lollypop. I mustn’t look too bad because the cameras are definitely spending a lot of time pointed at me.

Meeting over, we moved to an emergency hay storage area. They’ve used money from our project and ideas as well – to mitigate livestock risk during winter. Herders volunteer time to cut and bale hay in a neighbouring soum (this one is too small with no native hay pasture). They pay 1400tugrik per bale to be able to use the land. It’s three times cheaper than buying the hay at market. The hay is stored in the storage facility – along with donated grain from Russia. The price is regulated by the same guy that guards the hay. The price fluctuates with changing conditions (bad winter = less food for animals = higher demand for hay = higher price of emergency hay).

I tried some handmade yogurt. Once I got past the pungent smell of cow fat/hide, it was really yummy sweet yogurt. We were given a copper bowl as a sign of appreciation – this area obviously rides off the back of the copper mine. The bowl is engraved with the date and location. It’s just the loveliest thing ever.

We moved from hay to a community centre – an ex-Russian military base that’s been refurbished and is used regularly by locals. It has a (tiny) gym, a theatre, snooker table, basketball court, small library with two computers and general space.

Lunch beckoned (after a school visit) at a kindergarten ger (kindergartens are often held in a ger as they’re transportable and can follow herders around, or are just practical to pitch in the back yard of a school). Oh man. What could possibly be cuter than twelve Mongolian children sleeping on the floor of a ger in individual sleeping bags, perfectly lined with having their nap?

Khorkhog was on the menu. We ate at the kindergarten’s meal ger on their tiny chairs. A big sheep in a pot with potatoes and hot stones. I managed not to eat mutton again – instead I had a potato, 2 nectarines and stale bread.

I’ll let the photos of the kids tell their story.

 

Post-lunch were more visits – to a school full of wholly passionate teachers, another fodder storage joint and a dormitory for school kids (from age 6) who live too far away from school.

On the road to Dharkhan – arrived at 8:30pm. In bed by 10pm. No hot water, and 2 minute noodles for dinner.

I feel I’ve overused the terms amazing, beautiful, spectacular, fantastic – the landscape, the experience – is now made to sound much less than it is as my vocabulary and writing finesse does not accurately describe: the feeling of helplessness. Alternatively the feeling of instilling empowerment. The breathtaking scenery. The patriotism. The staunchly Soviet mannerisms, customs and processes. The whole-ness of the feeling of seeing malnourished children be cared for, and watching them enjoy child’s play as opposed to child labour. The tugging of your heart strings to know that if you took that child, you could offer it a life not only of love but of opportunities. Alternatively the thought process of knowing if I gave them $100AUD, that child’s life would change truly forever….

Back to reality tomorrow night. These trips are so short in time but feel like an eternity of experience. It’s so surreal: a two night, three day trip encompasses more than years and years of learning and studying the topic.