It was my last night in the capital city of Ulanbaataar (UB) during my first visit to Mongolia. I had spent an evening at a private reception generously hosted by the President of Mongolia, Elbegdorj Tsakhia, taking part in some of Mongolia's older traditions -- like trying my hand at the Mongolian bow and enjoying a bowl of fermented mare's milk.
My visit also included a day at the stunning Terelj Resort in Mongolia's National Park; strolling the semi-arid steppes of the country's highlands; and checking out the breathtaking statue of Genghis Khan seated on horseback, the largest statue of its kind in the world. Overall, I had spent four days exploring the many faces of the country, engaging in discussions about the future of this most ancient nation.
The value of the country is indescribably vast, and for those who know it, the possibility for gainful success is great -- if the country can move in the right direction over the next several decades.
With a population of three million people, Mongolia is currently one of the world's fastest growing economies, with GDP growth for 2013 forecasted to be 14 and 16 percent (with a value of USD $10 billion) and a natural wealth valued at more than USD $3 trillion.
Landlocked between China and Russia, the country is benefiting from a booming mining industry, which is still far from realizing its full potential. To this effect, the government has strong ambitions to use this wealth to improve infrastructure and foster growth, ultimately improving the lives of its people.
I had been invited to participate in the World Economic Forum's Strategic Dialogue on the Future of Mongolia. This forum brought together 150 Mongolian government and other leading domestic and international stakeholders to develop a set of scenarios that explore the different ways in which Mongolia's future might develop.
These scenarios were used at the Strategic Dialogue to explore policy options in three decision areas: managing the mining industry and its revenues; encouraging economic diversification; and pursuing essential trade and investment relationships. See the World Economic Forum's final event report for details.
Sitting in a jeep, humming over the city's bumpy roads, I was deeply engaged in a discussion with an executive from Mongolia's Central Bank and one of the World Economic Forum's UB Global Shapers, Gantig Batsaikhan.
Our talks centered around perhaps one of the most important scenarios that had yet to be discussed or explored during the meeting: the role of the country's 1.6 million youth in the next 20 years as Mongolia grows. A staggering, 60 percent of the population of Mongolia are under the age of 30.
This group is increasingly interconnected and wired. Some 75 percent of people under the age of 30 have a cell phone and 45 percent have smart phones (namely iOS and Android). What's more, in the last few years, more than 300 computer/video gaming centers have been created across UB to cater to an increasingly demanding gamer culture.
However, according to the World Economic Forum's UB Global Shapers Hub (a community of leaders between the ages of 20 and 30 dedicated to improving the state of the world starting with one's local community), the central problem here rests in a digital divide. Simply put: most young people in UB have access to cell phones and the Internet - but many, especially outside the nation's capital, do not. In fact, by the end of 2012, the household penetration of Internet access was only one percent outside of UB.
There is a very clear indication that the youth who have access to wireless connectivity are using it and thriving as a result. However, in order for the country to grow, there needs to be a significant investment in digital infrastructure and education for the whole country, including rural and remote areas. There are several groups, companies and organizations already leading the charge in this respect.
For instance, the Ulaanbaatar Shapers are tackling the growing digital divide and lack of access to information between the urban and rural area of the country by visiting 330 town centers to offer short-term training on the importance of Internet access to children.
Mining company officials are also deeply aware of the growing importance of the relationship between young Mongolians and digital connectivity. The largest of the companies, Oyu Tolgoi, just funded the modernization/refurbishment of a street in UB -- colloquially called "student street" -- to include public WiFi. What's more, Oyu Tolgoi has focused attention on connecting with Mongolian youth through digital platforms, and has 80,000 likes on Facebook.
There are also groups of young entrepreneurs exploring how to engage youth from across the country. According to Enkhtur Zurgaanjin, co-founder of the leading Mongolian app-development company, Slide, ltd., he and his brother have been developing mobile applications to connect youth, such as: pica and pica social. The apps aim to make live easier for youth to connect with one another in UB.
The Mongolian government, company executives and incoming foreign investors must be attuned to the need to support local connectivity and corporate social responsibility campaigns targeted to youth.
As the country strives to maximize its vast potential over the next two decades, such awareness and engagement must be at the very heart of its growth strategy.
SOURCE OF THIS ARTICLE : Huffingtonpost.com
Any source
Showing posts with label Article. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Article. Show all posts
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Sunday, October 20, 2013
‘Rough neighbor’ of Brussels
Mongolia has two big neighbors: Russia and China. Since the democratic revolution, we have been calling the United States, Japan, the European Union, the Republic of Korea, India, Turkey and many other countries our “third neighbors”. Mongolia established bilateral agreements with most of its “third neighbors” to further develop partnerships and expand cooperation, and regularly holds high-level meetings with them.
Our government has been repeating the discussion on attracting more investment into our economy and has explained that the concept of “third neighbors” is more political rather than geographical, which is fairly obvious. Due to the lack of implementation of what has been agreed upon with “third neighbors,” Mongolians have been unable to seize the opportunity to fully realize the advantages of fostering cooperation with them to learn as much as possible.
Mongolia’s foreign policy must continuously bring substantial contributions to our economy as well as the livelihood of our people. It is apparent from our experiences of past years that our “third neighbor” policy is not as productive as it may sound unless democratic values are fully reflected in our social life, public governance is improved, and the market economy is enhanced by creating free and fair competition in the private sector.
Every single one of our third neighbors has been advising us to strengthen the rule of law, improve public governance, ensure transparent operations of government institutions and improve their efficiency, hire public workers based on merit instead of political connections, and combat corruption throughout the country.
Our politicians and high ranking officials always accept these advisements and promise to implement them, but seemingly forget about them as soon as their meeting or visit has concluded. If at least half of what was discussed in high-level meetings held by our government came true, Mongolia would not be ranked 94 out of 174 countries on the 2012 Corruption Perceptions Index, and our mining industry would be benefitting the majority of Mongolian people rather than a privileged few.
Nevertheless, our third neighbors have not lost their faith in Mongolia and continue to remind our leaders about the changes that need to be made every time they get the chance. What they are recommending benefits Mongolians more than it benefits them.
Let us expand on the case of the European Union to look more closely at how our third neighbor policy is working. The European Union, which has 28 member countries, is based in Brussels, Belgium. It helps developing countries implement policy aimed at reducing and eventually eradicating poverty. In 2011, the European Union provided 53 billion EUR (more than 72 billion USD) in assistance to developing countries, almost twice the amount of financial support granted by the United States.
The European Union has been providing development assistance to Mongolia since 1993. It spent 30 million EUR on reducing poverty in rural areas and the prevention of and recovery from natural disasters like drought and dzud, from 2007 through 2013. They revisited their policy of cooperation with Mongolia in 2011 and started putting more emphasis on providing technical vocational education training in rural areas and supporting the economic management of the mining industry.
This year, the European Union has started working out its strategy of cooperation with Mongolia for 2014-2020. Mongolia and the European Union signed a Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) in April 2013, which creates an opportunity for us to make quality improvements in our politics, economy, culture, human security, civil society and other spheres. When the European Parliament ratifies the PCA, and Mongolians strictly adhere to it, a great chance to see substantial results from our “third neighbors policy” is open to us.
At the moment, the parties to the agreement are discussing how to implement their project with increased focus on strengthening the rule of law, improving standardization, fostering cooperation on research and innovation, and increasing food safety. In order to achieve these objectives, Mongolia will need to learn from and work together with European Union member countries.
If Mongolia manages to take on the task wisely, and directly introduce European standards in some of our industries, our country will be able to take one giant step towards development. For example, if we accept all specifications of medical drugs and other medical substances licensed and sold in all EU member countries, Mongolia could decrease a lot of administrative costs related to import permission and cut wasteful corruption spending . Moreover, if we immediately introduce European standards in building and road construction and materials, industry efficiency will improve greatly and Mongolians could enjoy world class quality. When widespread corruption is gone, the only administrative costs will be valid ones to monitor and evaluate the implementation of those standards.
In the political sphere, lessons learned from the European Union might help us reduce costs and prevent unnecessary disputes nationwide. For example, we could ban political parties from constructing fancy palaces for themselves with public money, recover the Independent Palace of the Mongolian People’s Party and allocate the building’s space to political parties represented in the parliament.
If we could only implement the government performance monitoring and evaluation systems used in European countries, the unfair acts and level of corruption in Mongolian government would decrease significantly. Public property would be properly registered and overseen. It would lead to many government employees leaving public service on their own.
Adapting European experience to our media sector will allow the press that makes up the “Fourth Power” in a democracy to fulfill its most important role: monitoring good governance and justice in Mongolia.
Our media must adhere to the ethics of journalism and become truly independent and competitive. To achieve this, we should learn from the European Union and develop good regulations that closely tie the media sector with ever-growing trends in digitalization.
Currently, the ever-disappearing differences between television and the online world, content creation and transmission, and communication and broadcasting, are limiting the proper implementation of media regulation. Regulations to prevent dominant players from monopolizing a market and having media content reach all parts of the country without discrimination is needed.
In order to maximize the benefits of our third neighbor policy, Mongolia has another option in addition to introducing European quality to improve our economy, governance and the livelihood of people. Mongolia could also become a member of the Organization of Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD). Admission to this organization was a very significant part of the rapid economic development seen in Japan, Korea, Chile and many other countries. OECD member countries vastly cooperate with one another in economic and social spheres, including collaboration between hospitals and schools. For instance, an education institution in an OECD member country acknowledges a university degree acquired from any other OECD member country.
However, people are more interested in the substantial outcomes of cooperation rather than just becoming a member of another international organization.
Striving to witness concrete improvements in their lives and strengthen their country’s competitiveness, Mongolians are demanding that the government work more efficiently to produce actual results from its “third neighbor” policy.
Translated by B.AMAR
Short URL: http://ubpost.mongolnews.mn/?p=6403
Any source
Our government has been repeating the discussion on attracting more investment into our economy and has explained that the concept of “third neighbors” is more political rather than geographical, which is fairly obvious. Due to the lack of implementation of what has been agreed upon with “third neighbors,” Mongolians have been unable to seize the opportunity to fully realize the advantages of fostering cooperation with them to learn as much as possible.
Mongolia’s foreign policy must continuously bring substantial contributions to our economy as well as the livelihood of our people. It is apparent from our experiences of past years that our “third neighbor” policy is not as productive as it may sound unless democratic values are fully reflected in our social life, public governance is improved, and the market economy is enhanced by creating free and fair competition in the private sector.
Every single one of our third neighbors has been advising us to strengthen the rule of law, improve public governance, ensure transparent operations of government institutions and improve their efficiency, hire public workers based on merit instead of political connections, and combat corruption throughout the country.
Our politicians and high ranking officials always accept these advisements and promise to implement them, but seemingly forget about them as soon as their meeting or visit has concluded. If at least half of what was discussed in high-level meetings held by our government came true, Mongolia would not be ranked 94 out of 174 countries on the 2012 Corruption Perceptions Index, and our mining industry would be benefitting the majority of Mongolian people rather than a privileged few.
Nevertheless, our third neighbors have not lost their faith in Mongolia and continue to remind our leaders about the changes that need to be made every time they get the chance. What they are recommending benefits Mongolians more than it benefits them.
Let us expand on the case of the European Union to look more closely at how our third neighbor policy is working. The European Union, which has 28 member countries, is based in Brussels, Belgium. It helps developing countries implement policy aimed at reducing and eventually eradicating poverty. In 2011, the European Union provided 53 billion EUR (more than 72 billion USD) in assistance to developing countries, almost twice the amount of financial support granted by the United States.
The European Union has been providing development assistance to Mongolia since 1993. It spent 30 million EUR on reducing poverty in rural areas and the prevention of and recovery from natural disasters like drought and dzud, from 2007 through 2013. They revisited their policy of cooperation with Mongolia in 2011 and started putting more emphasis on providing technical vocational education training in rural areas and supporting the economic management of the mining industry.
This year, the European Union has started working out its strategy of cooperation with Mongolia for 2014-2020. Mongolia and the European Union signed a Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) in April 2013, which creates an opportunity for us to make quality improvements in our politics, economy, culture, human security, civil society and other spheres. When the European Parliament ratifies the PCA, and Mongolians strictly adhere to it, a great chance to see substantial results from our “third neighbors policy” is open to us.
At the moment, the parties to the agreement are discussing how to implement their project with increased focus on strengthening the rule of law, improving standardization, fostering cooperation on research and innovation, and increasing food safety. In order to achieve these objectives, Mongolia will need to learn from and work together with European Union member countries.
If Mongolia manages to take on the task wisely, and directly introduce European standards in some of our industries, our country will be able to take one giant step towards development. For example, if we accept all specifications of medical drugs and other medical substances licensed and sold in all EU member countries, Mongolia could decrease a lot of administrative costs related to import permission and cut wasteful corruption spending . Moreover, if we immediately introduce European standards in building and road construction and materials, industry efficiency will improve greatly and Mongolians could enjoy world class quality. When widespread corruption is gone, the only administrative costs will be valid ones to monitor and evaluate the implementation of those standards.
In the political sphere, lessons learned from the European Union might help us reduce costs and prevent unnecessary disputes nationwide. For example, we could ban political parties from constructing fancy palaces for themselves with public money, recover the Independent Palace of the Mongolian People’s Party and allocate the building’s space to political parties represented in the parliament.
If we could only implement the government performance monitoring and evaluation systems used in European countries, the unfair acts and level of corruption in Mongolian government would decrease significantly. Public property would be properly registered and overseen. It would lead to many government employees leaving public service on their own.
Adapting European experience to our media sector will allow the press that makes up the “Fourth Power” in a democracy to fulfill its most important role: monitoring good governance and justice in Mongolia.
Our media must adhere to the ethics of journalism and become truly independent and competitive. To achieve this, we should learn from the European Union and develop good regulations that closely tie the media sector with ever-growing trends in digitalization.
Currently, the ever-disappearing differences between television and the online world, content creation and transmission, and communication and broadcasting, are limiting the proper implementation of media regulation. Regulations to prevent dominant players from monopolizing a market and having media content reach all parts of the country without discrimination is needed.
In order to maximize the benefits of our third neighbor policy, Mongolia has another option in addition to introducing European quality to improve our economy, governance and the livelihood of people. Mongolia could also become a member of the Organization of Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD). Admission to this organization was a very significant part of the rapid economic development seen in Japan, Korea, Chile and many other countries. OECD member countries vastly cooperate with one another in economic and social spheres, including collaboration between hospitals and schools. For instance, an education institution in an OECD member country acknowledges a university degree acquired from any other OECD member country.
However, people are more interested in the substantial outcomes of cooperation rather than just becoming a member of another international organization.
Striving to witness concrete improvements in their lives and strengthen their country’s competitiveness, Mongolians are demanding that the government work more efficiently to produce actual results from its “third neighbor” policy.
Translated by B.AMAR
Short URL: http://ubpost.mongolnews.mn/?p=6403
Any source
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Framing the Image
By Robert Ivy, FAIA
For generations of American architects (generations, not years), Julius Shulman idealized the built world. Born in 1910, and active until recently, Shulman’s eye framed essential architectural imagery and recorded it for the world. His passing on July 15 marks a shift in how we appreciate architecture today and suggests we pause to reflect on architectural photography.
First, Julius. This irrepressible personality, lacking formal training in either architecture or photography, but with an upwelling enthusiasm for good architecture, found his calling when he saw Richard Neutra’s California houses in 1936. Shulman subsequently mastered the craft of the architectural photograph, using the basics, none more than light. In his iconic images, real and artificial lighting fill space like ether, allowing us to imagine in two dimensions how three-dimensional reality feels. Light paints surfaces; highlights details; provides strong, shadowy contrast, and consequently provides depth and mass.
Architects love the fact that in Shulman’s best black-and-white pictures, the architectural elements, crisp as fresh chipboard, pop from the page. At the same time, he invariably and intentionally sets the work deeply in the context of its (usually) Southern California setting. In a Shulman photograph, we know exactly where we are, whether perched high in the Hollywood Hills above Laurel Canyon Boulevard—scene of his riveting, dramatic image for Arts and Architecture magazine of Case Study House Number 22, by architect Pierre Koenig for Carlotta and Buck Stahl in 1960)—or architecture melded into the landscape, where walls between interior and exterior disappear in a color image—as in Richard Neutra’s Samuel and Luella Maslon house, in Rancho Mirage, California, of 1962.
By enhancing our appreciation of the depth of field, the photographer managed to engage us beyond the picture plane. The basics of fore-, middle-, and background, so numbingly simple as a principle, yet often overlooked, establish a kind of perspective reminiscent of the craft of quattrocento Italian painters. Who can overlook the twin chairs at Neutra’s Edgar Kaufmann house in Palm Springs of 1946–47, the glowing house behind the pool shot through with light at midrange, and the lumbering insistence of the dark mountains behind? Great architecture; great image.
Craft lay in the photographer’s attention to detail, not leaving the basics to chance. For the Koenig house, Shulman opened his lens on the cosmos of the Los Angeles night for 7.5 minutes with his 4x5 camera, at the same time that a flash highlighted two women standing inside the primary space. Serendipity came from the repeated reflection of a hanging orb that stepped into space, multiplying the spatial effect with that of time: The image ascends from the literal to the metaphorical or philosophical. Craft laid the groundwork that chance compounded; historically, much art has relied on such formulation.
Shulman’s work described the work of ordinary, good, and great architects, for a variety of media, but none more emphatically than the midcentury architectural journals, including Architectural Record. His clientele included a who’s who of practitioners in his own backyard, from Frank Lloyd Wright, Richard Neutra, Rudolph Schindler, Charles Eames, Eero Saarinen, Albert Frey, Harwell Hamilton Harris, John Lautner, and Mies van der Rohe. His own photographs described the flowering of contemporary American architecture, introducing us to it through his lens. Shulman was not alone. His peers included the late Marvin Rand in Southern California, the Hedrich Blessing firm in Chicago, Balthazar Korab in Detroit, and the late Ezra Stoller in New York.
Today, architectural photographers continue to do what Julius did, though with some changes. Most have jettisoned the 4x5 for digital cameras, taking multiple pictures of the same scene, rather than relying on the staged shot, which might take three hours to execute. Like architects, many travel beyond their home territories, following the trail of contemporary work as far as Outer Mongolia, if talent has built there. They know the airports well.
Today’s architectural photographers continue to idealize architecture, but sometimes catch the entire urban or rural scene, including the stuff that makes up real life, including wires and people and cars and potholes. They shoot, almost exclusively in color, broadcast their work electronically, and e-mail their images to clients and publications, whether magazines or books. They see a large volume of new work, and shoot multiple projects.
Seeing constitutes a form of making. Like Julius Shulman, Iwan Baan and Timothy Hursley, Roland Halbe and Christian Richters, Peter Aaron, Alan Karchmer, and Jeff Goldberg act as our surrogates. They travel for us, see the new architecture, and remake the world each month. We know contemporary architecture first through their eyes. As long as there are journals or monographs or Web sites, we need their curatorial expertise, to catch the shot, to choose the best, and describe the work. How this highly refined craft will evolve, as we transition toward new technologies, including three-dimensional media, remains to be seen. Once seen, will we appreciate this world as fully as we have enjoyed it through eyes of Julius Shulman? Ever optimistic about the next generation, he would have laughed away the doubt.
If you wish to write to our editor-in-chief you can email him rivy@mcgraw-hill.com.Any source
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
The Tsaatan: Mongolia's Reindeer People
The temperature drops at least 15°C as we head up into the taiga, the home of the Tsaatan, Mongolia’s reindeer people, the focus of our long horseback journey, the point at which we turn and head for home.
The climate changes. Scant grass gives way to thick larch forest. And then a dense scrub in hues of purple and grey which, with the cloud cover descending fast, reminds me, weirdly, of Scotland.
We break for lunch, don down jackets, and dine on sour yak cheese, fresh bread and the wild green onions we picked at an earlier stop.
I cannot believe the contrast between this gloomy, foggy micro-climate, shadowed by dark mountains that, even in late June, are still streaked with snow, and the scorching plains only a very few hundred metres below.
And then… We’re there! A small boy rides past, bareback on a scrawny reindeer. A forest of tepee poles – while most nomadic Mongolians live in gers, the Tsaatan favour orts, virtually identical to the structures built by Plains Indians.
And – more reindeer! Spindly, bow-legged, emitting their weird grunting bark that echoes through the forest. Reindeer towing wood for tepees; reindeer headed to the river to fetch water; reindeer staked between the tepees; mother and baby reindeer grazing between the larches, a web of intertwined antlers silhouetted against the grey.
A cold, grey rain begins to bucket from the skies. We yell the ritual call to “hold the dogs!” which are trotting by our horses, dismount and head into our hosts’ ort for warm salt tea with rich, dense reindeer milk.
The sky impregnated the earth and begat the reindeer, to be man’s helper and stay with him for the rest of time. The Tsaatan cannot survive without the reindeer. They live together, intertwined.
In the TV series Little Britain, there is a character named Daffyd, who, against comedically mounting evidence, persists in his belief that he’s “the only gay in the village”.
We are not the only tourists in the Tsaatan’s village – not by a long shot. And, although I had never believed we would be, I am surprised by the scale of tourism here.
Even before the start of high season, the Tsaatan are – well, not quite outnumbered by tourists, who have ridden in from Tsagaannuur, and in one bold, doomed instance, attempted the boggy terrain in a jeep, but certainly surrounded by them.
There are around a hundred reindeer herders in this encampment, grouped across 20-odd tents. It’s the easiest of the Tsaatan’s multiple encampments to reach from Tsagaannuur, and so we are one of three groups overnighting in this tiny community.
There is also, befuddlingly, a Peace Corps mission in place. I haven’t seen so many foreigners in one place since Ulaanbaatar, a city of over a million.
Yet more befuddlingly, our hosts’ daughter speaks excellent English. “I studied ecology in UB,” she says.
“Why did you come back?” I ask.
“I like it here,” she explains.
Of course she does. It’s home…
And, too, despite her degree, she still holds her old beliefs. The sky impregnated the earth and begat the reindeer, to be man’s helper and stay with him for the rest of time. The Tsaatan cannot survive without the reindeer. They live together, intertwined.
The reindeer look, compared to the sturdy, sleek reindeer we have seen in Finland, quite painfully scrawny. Bow-legged. Knobbly-kneed. Their spines and hip bones jut through their fur.
Zac pets the reindeer, which are still shedding their winter fur, their horns ridiculously soft and velvety, and, close to sunset, we head up into the forest to watch our host milking her reindeer.
It’s a brutal process, reindeer milking – the infant reindeer headbutts the mother’s udders again and again to release the milk.
For the human milker, there’s much more kneading and tugging than I’ve ever seen applied to a cow or a goat. And all this painful-looking activity extracts barely half a cupful of the thick, creamy milk.
The reindeer look, compared to the sturdy, chunky reindeer we have seen in Finland, quite painfully scrawny. Bow-legged. Knobbly-kneed. Their spines and hip bones jut through their fur.
An adult man can ride an adult bull reindeer, we are told. But none of these look strong enough at all.
And, back in the ort, with possessions safely stored within its treetrunk roof, the rain pelting down on the canvas frame, and Lady Gaga on play on a mobile phone powered by a small solar panel, we learn exactly why this is.
They cannot get across the border to marry within their Russian ethnic group. They are, fundamentally, doomed by geopolitics. And have been for the last 60-odd years.
Tsaatan is the Mongolian name for Mongolia’s reindeer people – it means, conveniently, “reindeer people”. They call themselves Tuva, and the tribal language they speak is Tuvan.
After the fall of China’s Qing dynasty, in 1911, the Tuva had their own republic, a nation recognised only by Russia and Mongolia. In 1944, Stalin overran it, and added it to the Soviet Union; today, the Tuva Republic is part of Russia, while the Tsaatan remain in Mongolia.
“There are 500 of us in the taiga,” our host explains. “In Russia there are, maybe, 20,000.” (She means Tuva who still herd reindeer, not people from the Tuva ethnic group.)
I do the maths. “So, when you marry, will you marry a Tuva man?” I ask.
She laughs. No. She knows them all already.
Most Tuva marry from other local Mongolian tribal groups – typically Darkhad people (the majority grouping on this side of Khövsgöl Nuur, and the tribe that Baatar belongs to).
The reindeer people cannot marry within their ethnic identity in Mongolia, because they are too few. And, despite their shared tribal language, they cannot get across the border to marry within their Russian ethnic group.
They are, fundamentally, doomed by geopolitics. And have been for the last 60-odd years.
“It’s for the tourists. This is their spring camp. In their summer camp, there are 37 species that the reindeer can eat. Here, there are barely 15 species. They should have moved a month ago. But they haven’t…”
Later, in the ort, after the gifting vodka has gone round, drops ceremoniously flicked to honour the ancestors, the sky, the earth and the reindeer, I talk to a man who requests I do not identify him further.
“The Tsaatan won’t exist in thirty years,” he says bluntly. “Too many changes.”
We talk some more. “The reindeer…” I say. “The reindeer – they don’t look well! They’re too thin! Is it because summer has come late here?”
“No,” he says. “It’s for the tourists. This is their spring camp. In their summer camp, there are 37 species that the reindeer can eat. Here, there are barely 15 species. They should have moved a month ago. But they haven’t…”
“Because of the tourists,” I conclude, feeling slightly sick.
Because the cash contribution that we make for our accommodation, the food that we bring into the ort, the money that some tourists will pay for tribal art or to witness an “authentic” shaman ceremony, is cash wealth and food diversity beyond imagining, and so the reindeer wait. Man’s partner throughout life they may be, but there is no shamanic law which says they have to be fat.
“The summer camp…” I begin. “The summer camp is higher up, right?”
“Yes,” he says. “It’s higher up, it’s further for the tourists to come. And this is a poor community. They need the money.”
“I’m from UB,” she laughs. “I studied in the US, and then I came home, and volunteered here. I met my husband here. And… here I am.”
I wander around the camp a little, under a sky that has cleared to a light dusting of stars, then join Baatar to watch Korean TV on satellite in the village head’s ort, an activity that, in its dislocating ordinariness, reminds me very much of the time we watched Mr & Mrs Smith in a Borneo longhouse.
Later, we sleep on mats on the floor of our ort; Bill sleeps on a bed of branches, in a corner of the tepee.
By 6am, our ecology graduate is out fetching water from the stream. By 7am, she has milked the reindeer. Later, there will be bread to be made.
We’re riding out today, but, before we saddle up, we meet a girl with the classically rounded features I associate with central Mongolia, who greets us in flawless US English.
“I’m from UB,” she laughs. “I studied in the US, and then I came home, and volunteered here. I met my husband here. And… here I am.”
Her work in the community is two-fold. She tries to function as a liaison with the outside world, and control access to her adopted people. She works with the women, in particular, to generate crafts that can be resold, to create a sustainable income for her community from tourism. And she is one of few families to stay at the pastureland over winter to protect their site.
It is, however, an uphill struggle.
And, as we head out on the long loop back to Khatgal – six days’ hard riding, six days of seven hours or more – I feel the most ambivalent I’ve felt about any tourist activity since – ooh, probably Tiger Kingdom, or, more relevantly, the Penan.
Because, as tourists, we are killing this community, starving their partner reindeer. And, as tourists, we are offering nothing that’s sustainable in return. And yet…. this small community, this encampment, this traditional clan with its many intelligent and several highly educated members, has chosen tourism: and it would be outrageously infantilising for me, an outsider, to suggest they should reject it, or even that my fellow tourists should not go.
If you’re considering visiting the reindeer people, start at visittaiga.org, run by the Tsaatan themselves.Any source
The climate changes. Scant grass gives way to thick larch forest. And then a dense scrub in hues of purple and grey which, with the cloud cover descending fast, reminds me, weirdly, of Scotland.
We break for lunch, don down jackets, and dine on sour yak cheese, fresh bread and the wild green onions we picked at an earlier stop.
I cannot believe the contrast between this gloomy, foggy micro-climate, shadowed by dark mountains that, even in late June, are still streaked with snow, and the scorching plains only a very few hundred metres below.
And then… We’re there! A small boy rides past, bareback on a scrawny reindeer. A forest of tepee poles – while most nomadic Mongolians live in gers, the Tsaatan favour orts, virtually identical to the structures built by Plains Indians.
And – more reindeer! Spindly, bow-legged, emitting their weird grunting bark that echoes through the forest. Reindeer towing wood for tepees; reindeer headed to the river to fetch water; reindeer staked between the tepees; mother and baby reindeer grazing between the larches, a web of intertwined antlers silhouetted against the grey.
A cold, grey rain begins to bucket from the skies. We yell the ritual call to “hold the dogs!” which are trotting by our horses, dismount and head into our hosts’ ort for warm salt tea with rich, dense reindeer milk.
The sky impregnated the earth and begat the reindeer, to be man’s helper and stay with him for the rest of time. The Tsaatan cannot survive without the reindeer. They live together, intertwined.
In the TV series Little Britain, there is a character named Daffyd, who, against comedically mounting evidence, persists in his belief that he’s “the only gay in the village”.
We are not the only tourists in the Tsaatan’s village – not by a long shot. And, although I had never believed we would be, I am surprised by the scale of tourism here.
Even before the start of high season, the Tsaatan are – well, not quite outnumbered by tourists, who have ridden in from Tsagaannuur, and in one bold, doomed instance, attempted the boggy terrain in a jeep, but certainly surrounded by them.
There are around a hundred reindeer herders in this encampment, grouped across 20-odd tents. It’s the easiest of the Tsaatan’s multiple encampments to reach from Tsagaannuur, and so we are one of three groups overnighting in this tiny community.
There is also, befuddlingly, a Peace Corps mission in place. I haven’t seen so many foreigners in one place since Ulaanbaatar, a city of over a million.
Yet more befuddlingly, our hosts’ daughter speaks excellent English. “I studied ecology in UB,” she says.
“Why did you come back?” I ask.
“I like it here,” she explains.
Of course she does. It’s home…
And, too, despite her degree, she still holds her old beliefs. The sky impregnated the earth and begat the reindeer, to be man’s helper and stay with him for the rest of time. The Tsaatan cannot survive without the reindeer. They live together, intertwined.
The reindeer look, compared to the sturdy, sleek reindeer we have seen in Finland, quite painfully scrawny. Bow-legged. Knobbly-kneed. Their spines and hip bones jut through their fur.
Zac pets the reindeer, which are still shedding their winter fur, their horns ridiculously soft and velvety, and, close to sunset, we head up into the forest to watch our host milking her reindeer.
It’s a brutal process, reindeer milking – the infant reindeer headbutts the mother’s udders again and again to release the milk.
For the human milker, there’s much more kneading and tugging than I’ve ever seen applied to a cow or a goat. And all this painful-looking activity extracts barely half a cupful of the thick, creamy milk.
The reindeer look, compared to the sturdy, chunky reindeer we have seen in Finland, quite painfully scrawny. Bow-legged. Knobbly-kneed. Their spines and hip bones jut through their fur.
An adult man can ride an adult bull reindeer, we are told. But none of these look strong enough at all.
And, back in the ort, with possessions safely stored within its treetrunk roof, the rain pelting down on the canvas frame, and Lady Gaga on play on a mobile phone powered by a small solar panel, we learn exactly why this is.
They cannot get across the border to marry within their Russian ethnic group. They are, fundamentally, doomed by geopolitics. And have been for the last 60-odd years.
Tsaatan is the Mongolian name for Mongolia’s reindeer people – it means, conveniently, “reindeer people”. They call themselves Tuva, and the tribal language they speak is Tuvan.
After the fall of China’s Qing dynasty, in 1911, the Tuva had their own republic, a nation recognised only by Russia and Mongolia. In 1944, Stalin overran it, and added it to the Soviet Union; today, the Tuva Republic is part of Russia, while the Tsaatan remain in Mongolia.
“There are 500 of us in the taiga,” our host explains. “In Russia there are, maybe, 20,000.” (She means Tuva who still herd reindeer, not people from the Tuva ethnic group.)
I do the maths. “So, when you marry, will you marry a Tuva man?” I ask.
She laughs. No. She knows them all already.
Most Tuva marry from other local Mongolian tribal groups – typically Darkhad people (the majority grouping on this side of Khövsgöl Nuur, and the tribe that Baatar belongs to).
The reindeer people cannot marry within their ethnic identity in Mongolia, because they are too few. And, despite their shared tribal language, they cannot get across the border to marry within their Russian ethnic group.
They are, fundamentally, doomed by geopolitics. And have been for the last 60-odd years.
“It’s for the tourists. This is their spring camp. In their summer camp, there are 37 species that the reindeer can eat. Here, there are barely 15 species. They should have moved a month ago. But they haven’t…”
Later, in the ort, after the gifting vodka has gone round, drops ceremoniously flicked to honour the ancestors, the sky, the earth and the reindeer, I talk to a man who requests I do not identify him further.
“The Tsaatan won’t exist in thirty years,” he says bluntly. “Too many changes.”
We talk some more. “The reindeer…” I say. “The reindeer – they don’t look well! They’re too thin! Is it because summer has come late here?”
“No,” he says. “It’s for the tourists. This is their spring camp. In their summer camp, there are 37 species that the reindeer can eat. Here, there are barely 15 species. They should have moved a month ago. But they haven’t…”
“Because of the tourists,” I conclude, feeling slightly sick.
Because the cash contribution that we make for our accommodation, the food that we bring into the ort, the money that some tourists will pay for tribal art or to witness an “authentic” shaman ceremony, is cash wealth and food diversity beyond imagining, and so the reindeer wait. Man’s partner throughout life they may be, but there is no shamanic law which says they have to be fat.
“The summer camp…” I begin. “The summer camp is higher up, right?”
“Yes,” he says. “It’s higher up, it’s further for the tourists to come. And this is a poor community. They need the money.”
“I’m from UB,” she laughs. “I studied in the US, and then I came home, and volunteered here. I met my husband here. And… here I am.”
I wander around the camp a little, under a sky that has cleared to a light dusting of stars, then join Baatar to watch Korean TV on satellite in the village head’s ort, an activity that, in its dislocating ordinariness, reminds me very much of the time we watched Mr & Mrs Smith in a Borneo longhouse.
Later, we sleep on mats on the floor of our ort; Bill sleeps on a bed of branches, in a corner of the tepee.
By 6am, our ecology graduate is out fetching water from the stream. By 7am, she has milked the reindeer. Later, there will be bread to be made.
We’re riding out today, but, before we saddle up, we meet a girl with the classically rounded features I associate with central Mongolia, who greets us in flawless US English.
“I’m from UB,” she laughs. “I studied in the US, and then I came home, and volunteered here. I met my husband here. And… here I am.”
Her work in the community is two-fold. She tries to function as a liaison with the outside world, and control access to her adopted people. She works with the women, in particular, to generate crafts that can be resold, to create a sustainable income for her community from tourism. And she is one of few families to stay at the pastureland over winter to protect their site.
It is, however, an uphill struggle.
And, as we head out on the long loop back to Khatgal – six days’ hard riding, six days of seven hours or more – I feel the most ambivalent I’ve felt about any tourist activity since – ooh, probably Tiger Kingdom, or, more relevantly, the Penan.
Because, as tourists, we are killing this community, starving their partner reindeer. And, as tourists, we are offering nothing that’s sustainable in return. And yet…. this small community, this encampment, this traditional clan with its many intelligent and several highly educated members, has chosen tourism: and it would be outrageously infantilising for me, an outsider, to suggest they should reject it, or even that my fellow tourists should not go.
If you’re considering visiting the reindeer people, start at visittaiga.org, run by the Tsaatan themselves.Any source
Friday, February 8, 2013
Emmaus Main Street Partners - February Connections Article
This article originally appeared in February's issue of Connections, The Chamber's monthly publication.
Written by: Richard Zayaitz, ADP Insurance
Emmaus Main Street Partners Program President
866-501-0474 • richard.zayaitz@adp.com
We ushered in the new year spending time with family and friends and now we are gearing up for our 2013 membership campaign. The partnership with the GLVCC presents us with a unique opportunity this year for all of our members. They can explore the many aspects The Chamber has to offer for the small- to medium-sized businesses located in the Emmaus area. Look for an Emmaus Main Street Partner board member who will be visiting your business in the near future.
The winter’s farmers market is in full swing, promoting fresh, organic produce grown in the Lehigh Valley and sold by Lehigh Valley farmers. They are open every other Sunday for your enjoyment.
We are celebrating several February holidays in Emmaus this month. As most people know Groundhog Day is followed up by Fastnacht Day on February 12, a German tradition, where families removed lard and other fats from their homes before the start of Lent, and utilize those fats to make fastnachts. Enjoy Valentine’s Day in Emmaus by visiting and enjoying the small town atmosphere, our restaurants and our cozy shops to round off the month of February.
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