08 December, 2008

Still Life...

It happened again today. 
 While looking at an art display in the lobby of our favorite Thai restaurant across the street from the office the artist approached us and asked if we were Russian.  But this time our Finish friend stepped in speaking Mongolian and carried the ball (or in his case, "culiatha the hockey puck").  The artist is an older man who taught school from 1957 or so until he retired.  He had a few paintings which to me capture Mongolia still life.  I admired them wishing my camera could return so sentimental an image.  He had several children who now live in the US in various states and cities.
  I just read a post by some people I admire.  http://jungle-hut.blogspot.com/ I must admit I am guilty as charged.  We did drop JM and family off at Cha and leave them for two weeks.  Well I didn't. I was fixing the airplanes that they rode on and resetting the email system when someone jumped in too fast and it crashed.  Well actually Diana fixed the email most of the time.  However I too have a story to share about the first time at the Cha airstrip.  
 We had an event at a nearby airstrip which required the Mechanic (me) to go look at an airplane.  It required that 3 or 4 others go as well.  The airstrip in question was not so long and had a small hill on the departure end which had the effect of limiting the take off weight.  As I was the lightest and with lowest seniority I was "given" the opportunity to help out (take one for the team so to speak) by being shuttled to the Cha airstrip so the others would be able to belt in once, then ride home after picking me up without getting out of the airplane.  So, Much like the account in JM post I exited the airplane about three hours before dark and watched my ride home fly off toward a thunderstorm that looked pretty close. 
 Here are some things that went through my head:  The People (I had yet to get to know JP, and JM so didn't know their names) who speak english are not in the village now, and I Cant speak Yequana, Cant speak much Spanish, Don't have anything to eat or drink,  Where was that river?  could I find the airstrip again if I left it? did they say the village is about 5 miles down stream and across the river?  If I left now could I be there by dark and how would I get a ride across the river?  Do I even have my pocket knife?  Is that thunderstorm over the airstrip I just left?  IF it is will it move on in time for them to come back and get me or am I spending the night here?  You do realize that there are Tarantulas there that eat birds?  and snakes that eat people?  There are still wild tigers there that have been known to drag people off.  I saw the marks on the survivors we flew out of the jungle for medical help from time to time.
  And earth worms that you can make worm jerky out of?  Nearby were bugs whose bite will cause the cartilage in your nose to dissolve, or malaria, or yellow fever, or cause you to go blind.  And snakes and more snakes and more snakes.
  Regardless of how rosy a picture of life in Cha JM or JP or Jkids paint, it is not now or then a picnic.  I was somewhat concerned for the short term future of the Siberian Tom family bread winner.  

Enough suspence.  The plane came back and I had grilled chicken for supper with rice and a coke.

Bayartai  (good-bye)

06 December, 2008

Sheepskin caps

I think Diana would be happy staying in Mongolia if the situation was different.  Plans make such a difference in your attitude.  We arrived here with the intent and plan to help out for about 4 months.  Now about 7 weeks to go.  We are helping with business decisions while the local operations Director is off on a well deserved break.  We came and settled in planning on staying only that long.  Now if we were asked to stay longer we probably would but, it would not be an easy transition to make.  Relationships have been formed with the understanding that we are filling in we find ourselves looking at our staff as friends rather than employees.  So we enjoy a casual and fun office.  It would be hard to return and go back to an authoritarian role.


Yesterday I stopped by the store to pick up some essential weekend food.  Chipsies, Coke-a-Cola, and little breads, in the checkout line the Mongolian cashier lady and I were faced with a dilemma,  I obviously was not local.  So what language should she use tell me how much I owed.  Looking her in the eye I saw many traits of my friends from years ago in Venezuela.  The lady who helped cared for my friends home and children, Carmen could have been the checkout lady's sister.  My instincts said speak Castillano (uh Spanish that is) but I fought that instinct down (tongue tangled experience had shown that would be a low odds attempt at communication)  I waited to see what the cash register read so I could pay from the numbers.  She asked me if I needed a bag, (Costs extra) and I shook my head no.  Of course I didn't understand what she said in Mongolian but I knew her question from the situation.  Then she told me how much I owed Her, in Russian.  She laughed like it was a victory as I nodded and paid.  Yes I could understand and answer her "Correct change, that is correct Yes?   Thank you?"  Communication in the check out line can be a victory.


But wait this poses a question.  Do I now look more Russian than American.  Will people be calling me comrade when I return to the US.  Have I entered the zone described by Thomas Wolf where I can never go home again?  Destined to roam the world trying to get back to the memories I have which no longer are?  Or was it much simpler than that.  Could it be that Americans wear parkas with hoods and Russians have furry hats?  Humm probably.

Tom