Silk Road Freeways

When my friend Cass first got her kitten, we decided to name her “Omheezaya.” Zaya means “destiny.” Many women, and a few men, bear this sonorous word in their names. But Omhee? That means “putrid” or “smelly.”

So why would we name the cat “Putrid Destiny?”

In Mongolia, if a child has suffered sickness or bad luck, the parents might take the child to a Buddhist lama. The lama will give the child a new name. Sometimes a “bad name” can ward off wicked spirits. So children might go by Nergui (No name), Bibish (Not me), or Muunohoi (Bad Dog!)

And our poor little Omhee had a tough early life. We found her in the Anna home, a home for former street children. But most Mongolian kids don’t know how to care for kittens. So they threw her around and caught her like a Koosh ball. So, when we “rescued” the cat, we gave her a funny name. Putrid? It’s love. We want to ensure only good luck will come her way from now on.

In a testament to Mongolians’ eager participation in elections, during the July 2000 parliamentary election, officials in some rural areas rode on horseback, carrying ballot boxes from ger to ger, some of which served as official polling stations. (From the aforementioned PCV Politics guide.)

June 29, 2008 — Will we see poll boxes in gers? Not in a city like Darkhan. But Mongolia’s favorite nomadic national symbol still plays a big part in elections here. The inexpensive, easily movable ger makes an ideal campaign HQ. Like gigantic mushrooms, the campaign gers pop up every six apartment blocks. By day, they blare out Mongolian folk tunes from Chinese-imported CD players. By night, the gers glow with red neon. Ponytailed girls, in garish orange jerseys, wander out of the painted doors to press glossy calendars into the hands of passersby.

True, I’ve only run across gers from the Democratic party. (Perhaps the Dems can’t afford office space like the MPRP. Or is it because the Dems seek the rural herder vote this time around)?

One Democratic Party candidate has stolen my heart – Kh. Temuujin.

Like his namesake, Temuujin kicks ass… well, at least he did on a “Development Debates” reality TV show. Moreover, this Temuujin has sublime taste in political cartoons.

(Yes, Mongolia does have reality TV shows about development. Imagine Mongolian Idol, complete with viewers’ real-time text-messaged votes. But instead of warbling “Country Roads,” contestants argue over things like disability education. It’s quite suspenseful. When squaring off against two distinguished authorities, young Temuujin started off shaky – but he shot from 15% of the vote to 60% within the course of an hour.)

Here’s the MPRP’s “Ardiin Khuu” (Son of the People). J. Sukhbaatar. Lots of billboards show him clowning around with these two Olympic judo heroes, B. Naranbaatar and Kh. Tsagaanbaatar. Despite my protests that I can’t vote, I still got this cool calendar from his twelve-year-old minions.

But who knows who to trust? As we say here, “Snake has spots on the outside, human has spots on the inside.”

That’s the name of our latest class. Credit for the title goes to Doug, one of my three awesome co-teachers, who agree that we must subject our 65 students to a crash course on Mongolian political cartoons. This summer, I’ve returned to Darkhan. I’m training our new volunteers in cross-culture and community development.

We geeks feel especially alive — Mongolia will hold a parliamentary election on June 29. Back in 1990, the Mongolian Politburo resigned in a bloodless revolution. Ever since then, Mongolians have participated in free, fair, contested elections.

In 18 years of democracy, though, the MPRP – aka Old Commies – have tenaciously clung to both the parliament and presidency. While the Democrats held the presidency in 1993-97, and Parliament in 1996-2000, their shock therapy economic policies spooked people out dreadfully.

On that election day in 1997, a 62-year-old voter, Baljinnyam told the Associated Press: “I cherish the democracy that we now have, but I voted for Bagabandi [the MPRP candidate] because capitalism is coming too fast to Mongolia and leaving too many people without jobs. (Quote borrowed from an excellent guide to Mongolian politics written by a team of current PCV’s.)

But today, one week before the parliamentary election, only a knife’s edge of a margin separates the two main parties; the MPRP polls at 38%, and the Democratic Party clocks in at 37%.

The next batch of Mongolia volunteers have received their invitations. Yaaaaaaay!

In honor of pre-service training, let me post a funny Naadam photo from last summer.

That’s me guzzling the airag, Ulaaka doing bunny ears, Chris LP, Margaret, and Brie.

Thank you, Temur, for translating a bit of the Ahan Dvvsin Duu:

Tertee Moskvagiin tsetserlegees Orosyn hus duulna
Tergel sartai dornoos orgen Sibir duulna
The Russian birch sings from a Moscow park
Wide Siberia sings from the East where there is full moon

And Temur also offered this interesting comment.

Javkhlan is from Uvs which is the reddest aimag in MGL. The MPRP gets 80-90% of votes there. Almost every Uvs person is proud that both Tsedenbal (ruled Mongolia during 1953-1981) and Batmunkh (ruled Mongolia in 1981 - 1990) are from Uvs aimag.

The MPRP, or “Huvsgalt Nam,” is the party of the former communists. 

What a weird music video. It’s about the Eternal Friendship of Russia and Mongolia — still a big hit today! Ahan dvvsiin duu means “big brother little brother song.” Javhlan (the young dude) is our biggest star. If you listen to it, “oros” means russian and “Moskvagiin tsetserlegees” means “We come from a Russian kindergarten” (I think).

My USSR-born friends have asked me some interesting questions about Mongolia’s relationship with Russia. Like, “Does Mongolia still really love Russia that much?”

Well, no. As my copy-machine-shop friend Zulaa told me, “Amerikand hairtai, Orosond dund zereg durtai. Hyatadand uzen yaddag.” (We love the Americans, we medium-like the Russians, and we frickin’ hate the Chinese.)

I mean, what have Russians done for Mongolia lately? Nothing. According to Youtube comments — “The Russians were damn thieves and they’re still grabbing our treasures from our mines.” “If Javhlan didn’t sing this, it would never play so much on TV.”

But the video just shows you how deeply years and years of Soviet propaganda wormed into Mongolians’ heads. Now those songs and brotherhood images have become part of Mongolia’s cultural vocabulary. People will happily belt out the familiar “little brother” song, even though they only kinda like the Russians.

I think a good analogy would be the way Americans see the 1950’s. Some people want to bring the USA back to the 50’s, just like some Mongolians wish they could go back to Russian domination. In both cases they’re the minority. Still, practically all Americans enjoy 50’s diners and oldies music. Putting footage of Lenin parades on TV is the Mongolian equivalent of showing girls in poodle skirts doing the twist.

If you want a laugh, check this out. That’s the weather forecast for Choibalsan. Folks emailed me to ask if the temperature really did drop to - 45 F. Last week, tiim shuu (yes indeed). It only gets to -45 at night, though. I prefer -45 and calm to -20 and windy… which happens every morning during my 20 minute walk to school. You can’t avoid frozen eyelashes these days.

…with critters and clowns; time travelers and tango dancers; Student of the Month awards and a teachers’ Cutest Miss contest; Cinderella and a quite underaged Prince Charming… welcome to Mongolian New Years’!

That’s “Father Winter,” the Mongolian Santa Claus. His outfit is a marvelous mix of Mongolia and the West. Santa wears a traditional silk robe, sash boots, and hat. But they are all in red and white. Plus, he’s added pompoms and a cape.

Father Winter’s girlfriends, the Snow Maidens.

Meet the Snow Boys! My little imps, of course.

I kid you not about the length of Mongolian rat-tails. This boy’s tinted his red for good measure.

The 7th grade boys practice their merengue.

Fourth graders … or bad-ass glam-rockers?

Here’s the one word you need to know: “tsaa.” That means glitter, rhinestones, sequins, tinsel; anything shiny and sparkly. You gather up tsaa and stick to your body. And you keep on slapping it on. Because no matter how much tsaa you applied before leaving the flat, you will need more once you get to the party.

Merry Christmas and Shin Jil Mend Hurgee (Happy New Year)! Hope you have a warm and wonderful holiday.

Soon I’ll return to Choibalsan for our New Years’ celebration. Everyone will dress in garlands of tinsel and gallons of body glitter. My Mongolian mom wants to bedeck me in rhinestones and huge false eyelashes. Some ladies will dress as the mini-skirted “snow girls,” which, as Mongolian tradition says, Father Christmas created to cure his loneliness.

My sitemates and I have spent way too many tugriks on silk dresses custom-tailored for the occasion. Mine is a red-and-black cocktail number, with a geometric paisley design, slits three-quarters of the way up my legs, and a splash of pure crimson across the bodice. New Years’ lasts for several days, though. So we’ll get good use out of those dresses.

Aside from costume preparation, it doesn’t feel like the holidays yet. How could it feel like Christmas without L.A.’s holiday lights extravaganza? I love Highland Park and Eagle Rock. How I miss my home neighborhoods’ Filipino glitter balls and gargantuan neon glowing creches. My family and I would spend hours exploring the the cul-de-sacs turned into caves of Hannukah banners. Where else could you visit inflatable Homer Simpson Santa Clauses that hover back and forth under the light of outdoor disco-balls?

Maybe Mongolian Christmas will live up to my hometown’s gaudiness.