HANDOUT 3: The Changing World of Mongolia's Nomads.
Melvyn C. Goldstein and Cynthia M. Beall (This excerpt is taken from a book, written by two anthropologists in the early 1990s)

1. Shelter: We camped at Tsaganburgas for three wonderful weeks. The weather was sunny and mild, the nomads relaxed and leisurely. Both sides of the clear blue stream that bisected the steep mountain valley were dotted with bright white ger and a colorful mix of sheep, goats, yak and horses. Living there gave us our first insight into the simple but effective technology the nomads had developed over the centuries to cope with their harsh environment and to conduct their nomadic pastoralism.
   
   Transportable shelters are essential to a pastoral nomadic way of life and, in the frigid cold of Mongolia, are a matter of survival, not just comfort. The Mongolian ger, as we happily found out by living in one, is superbly adapted to this. It is easy to put up, take down, and transport, and it is also very warm and windproof. Nomad families can break camp and load all their possessions onto camels in roughly an hour.
   
   A modular structure is the key to its effectiveness. The 'wall' consists of four or five wooden, collapsible accordian-like lattice fences resembling those Americans use to prevent children from falling down stairs. Spread open and lashed together, they form a sturdy circular wall about five feet high. When it is time to move on, each section collapses compactly into a flat unit about three feet wide that is easily loaded onto a camel.
   
   The roof section is also readily portable since it consists of 40 to 50 detachable broomstick-like wooden poles about five to six feet long. One end of the pole fits into peg holes in the wooden "wheel" in the center of the roof that forms the opening for light and chimney pipes. The lower end is threaded with a rawhide thong that loops around a lattice crosspiece in the wall section. With these roof struts in place, the ger has a rigid self-supporting frame, although a large ger usually has an internal wooden pillar or two for additional stability. Most ger we saw were about 16 feet in diameter and 72 feet high at the center.
   
   Insulation and wind protection came from one or two layers of felt sections that are about 25 feet long and four to five feet wide. These are strapped into the wall lattice and the roof and topped by sheets of white canvas, tied tightly with straps that circle the ger like ribbons on a huge birthday gift. When the herders fire up their metal, yak-dung stoves, the temperature inside the ger becomes quite comfortable. We could sit five or six feet from the fire without a coat when the temperature outside was in the low teens. And after the fire died out at bedtime, the temperature inside the tent remained 15-20 degrees warmer than outside. But we could never forget the cold; when the outside evening temperature fell below 0F, the inside temperature dropped well below 32F and froze our water and meat each night.
   
   Because the nomads... live in a climate where there is only one growing season a year, they do not make long migrations to new pastures. The longest move we heard of took two days and was only 50 or 60 miles. Most were less, taking only a day. ...There is no advantage to moving hundreds of miles because the district comprises 10,100 square miles of twisting mountains and valleys, 99.9% of which is pasture land used by 115,000 head of livestock and about 4,000 people. Ranging from 7,800 to 11,000 feet above sea level, it is a stark landscape without trees or even shrubs. To an outsider it can seem devoid of habitation, but in reality the mountains and valleys contain scores of named campsites - neighborhoods - each occupied at a particular time of year, usually by the same households.
   
   
   
2. Hospitality: Halter is a 44 year-old herder whose household included his wife Badam, his wife's widowed mother Otgon, and five children. We were seated on the tiny foot-high stools called sandl that look like kindergarten furniture and are found in the guest section of every ger - the left side away from the door. Haltar began by taking an elegant agate snuff bottle from its bright silk brocade pouch; he offered it to each of us in turn as tradition dictates. Fortunately, we didn't have to inhale the snuff - loosening the bright coral stopper and sniffing near the opening is acceptable.
   
   Badan, meanwhile, set out the "hospitality bowl" each household prepares for guests, and then went about making Mongolian milk-tea for us. Mongolians use a type of compressed tea leaf that is called "brick" tea in English because it is rock solid and roughly the shape of a brick. It is made in China and Russia from the poorest quality tea by wetting the leaves and pressing them into a mold. These tea bricks eliminate bulk and are convenient to transport and store. They are used throughout Mongolia and Tibet.
   
   Preparing tea requires first chipping off tea leaves with a knife or hammer. After these leaves are boiled in water, milk , butter, and salt are gradually added and blended. The resultant beverage called milk-tea is white and tasty, though strangely neither like milk or tea. Mongolian nomads keep a warm pot of tea handy and drink bowlfuls throughout the day.
   
   The hospitality bowl was piled high with all sorts of goodies - thick chunks of homemade cheeses, sugar cubes imported from the U.S.S.R., chocolate-covered candies from Ulan Batar, and the staple grain food - bordzig. This is a soft pastry made from a rolled out wheat dough that is deep-fried in lard or cooking oil. The nomads make hundreds of these at one time and eat them for early morning and midday meals together with milk-tea, meat, cheese, and other dairy products. In the evening, they have a cooked meal, usually a stew.
   
   Haltar had just slaughtered a sheep, so he also set out a big metal basin filled with freshly boiled lungs, heart, stomach, intestines, liver, and the Mongol's favorite delicacy - pieces of solid fat. Mongolians, we quickly learned, love meat and fat, and in fact consider meat without fat unappetizing and inadequate. Once, when we were trying to buy meat in town, a young man we knew brought us a leg of mutton but refused payment because he said the meat wasn't good quality. It was lean, and taking money would be like cheating us.
   
   
3. The Hair Cutting Ritual: A major ritual event is the "hair-cutting" ceremony where we experienced Mongolian hospitality on a large scale.
   
   Hair cutting is a traditional nomad rite that has survived socialism. It marks the point at which a child is considered to have survived the dangers of infancy - at either three or five years of age. Before this, parents do not cut their child's hair. As a consequence, we had a difficult time telling little boys and girls apart because both sported pigtails tied with bright, fluffy bows.
   
   The hair cutting rite normally takes place in the fall when the nomads are camped close to each other and the peak work period of summer milking and butter-making is over. Parents invite scores of relatives, neighbors and friends, and their ger is jam-packed. Outside the scene resembles a suburban party in the U.S., except that instead of shiny parked cars, dozens of elegant horses are tethered alongside a few colorful Czech and Russian motorcycles.
   
   At the parties we attended, women were seated on the right side of the ger and males on the left, with the elderly of each sex sitting at the far end of their row in the back. The elderly men set on a bed-couch at the back of the Ger. Brightly painted wooden tables about two feet high were set up in a rectangle around the stove in the center of the Ger. They were laden with a half dozen big metal hospitality bowls overflowing with food. The tent was full of gifts for the child who was having his (or her) hair cut - bricks of tea, boxes of sugar cubes, packets of biscuits, boots, money and toys. As each guest arrived, the hosts served him/her a bowl of yogurt, a sip of a unique vodka locally distilled from milk (called nirmalike), and then tea. This was followed by the endless succession of meat, noodle soup, borzig, and cheeses. The haircutting ceremony was a festive time that lasted all day. Guests talked and laughed, and spontaneous bursts of song filled the ger with haunting Mongolian folk melodies.
   
   Full-scale nomad hospitality, whether at a celebration or just visiting someone's ger, involves serving milk-vodka and/or regular vodka. These are offered to each person in tiny porcelain shot glasses or small plastic bowls. The guest accepts the cup with the right hand outstretched and the left hand held under the elbow of the right, takes a sip, and passes it back to the server using the same gesture. The server tops it off and offers it to the next person.
   
   Cutting the hair of the child-of-honor involves all the guests. The child, or in one instance, twins, moved from guest to guest carrying a scissors and small bag. Each guest took the child into his or her lap and snipped a small lock of hair with the scissors, stuffing the hair in the bag. The children we saw were extraordinarily well behaved about all this. "Haircutting" is a major event for a household, so the best food is served. Several of the household's fattest sheep are slaughtered, and the guests are served lots of meat.