Part II

At bedtime, I was told to take what looked to me like the largest bed. I demurred, but was convinced when they told me I'd be cold on the floor, despite my sleeping bag. I fell asleep while they were still doing their nightly things, and was a bit chagrined to wake up in the morning and find that Grandma (my age) and one of the children from the other ger sleeping on the floor.

In the morning I laid awake for hours waiting for the others to start their day. I guess that there's really no rush when everything you do is so weather-related and affected. Bonbua was up first, starting a fire and getting things started for breakfast.

This is the baby's bed, and the baby in the morning, waiting to be released from it. Banbua was quite proud of the bed, showing me the setup. The baby wears no diapers during the day, they just change his pants when required. At night he is strapped into this bed, and it has a catch-cup for the obvious purpose.

Early in the morning as I lay awake, I heard the distinctive sound of my alarm going off- oh no! Despite scrabbling around in the bag for it in the semi-darkness, I couldn't locate it. Fortunately it was a short lived alarm, and muffled by being in my bag. If anyone noticed, it wasn't obvious. Of course, one sleeps through noises one is used to- the sound and shadows of what I'm choosing to say were birds on the ger top in the morning bothered no one, and even the dogs barking once or twice did nothing to interfere with sleep for those accustomed to it. So I'm hoping my alarm went unnoticed.

I had read about the proper way to accept and hold my chai cup, and it was fun to practice that. So much of the life in the ger reminds me of living off the grid in a remote place here in the US. It's just much harder to find that kind of space in the US, and there is what seems to be unlimited space here. It's about the size of Alaska, and as of a few years ago, the population was about 3 million. About one fourth of those are pastoral nomads, like this family I visited.

Bonbau told me that she has been to Kazakhstan, although she was not able to find enough English to tell me whether she had lived there or visited. She did indicate she had gone to some years of university and had lived and worked in Ulaan Bataar for three years before marrying and coming here. The fact that her mother and siblings are mostly here seems to me to indicate that this was her original home area, but I'm not sure. She has a brother who is either studying to be, or is a policeman, and a brother who lives in the other ger in this camp. Her youngest sister is the 13-14 year old girl who lives in her ger, and she has a sister who lives 6 kilometers away. Her father is dead and one sibling is dead. She and her husband intrigued me. They seemed quite happy together, although of course not demonstrative, being Muslim and conservative. She is very proud of her son, and I made an effort to make clear how adorable he is despite the language barrier. He grew accustomed to me by the morning, and allowed me to play with him a bit.

I went outside to talk to Daulet about the return journey and saw several members of the family herding the collection of goats, sheep and yak off to the day's pasture, and the cows separated for the same purpose. Later I saw the teenage girl coming back from milking the cows in the field (no barn in this arrangement). This group effort reminded me of our days on the farm in Wisconsin, when everyone pitched in to get things done, because it needed doing. I would have loved to participate but was unable to tell where they wanted to go, and the last thing I wanted to do was to get in the way.

In the morning light the eagles were preening and stretching their wings. In last night's rain they looked miserable.

As we sat having the morning chai, the door opened and in walked an older man, at which everyone sprang up with alacrity to welcome him, and immediately the seat of honor was vacated for him. By this I knew he was someone of stature, and eventually was told he is the grandmother's brother (Bonbau's uncle). He was poured a cup of chai and the conversation carried on. The men had by now all come in from the morning's initial work for their chai, and it was an interesting scene, albeit somehow familiar- again bringing back the days on the farm with so many parallels.

Walking around outside, I saw more evidence of the life in the ger.

Skins drying

One of a few caches of food

Bonbua told me they are moving tomorrow (today now, I guess), and this ger is already packed in preparation for the move.

raw wool waiting for processing

I had, as instructed, brought a couple of bags of small candy with me, which I gave to Banbau to distribute as she saw fit. In the morning when her baby fussed to get out of his bed, she placated him with a piece of candy, clearly not his first. The candy seemed to be a big hit with everyone, just one more thing to thank Norca for. She had also suggested I give the family 20,000 tugrik as a gift/payment for their hospitality, which I gave to Bonbau's husband as the head of the family. Then it was time to say goodbye and thank you.