One week in (6/14/15)

I have been with my host family for one week now, and the M26 group is officially finished with two weeks of PST (pre-service training). Time is very weird in Peace Corps. It feels like it has been ages since Caleb and I were sitting in the airport in Birmingham, waiting to head to San Francisco. At the same time, time is going by quickly. It’s difficult to explain.

I have done a lot of things with my host family over the past week. I helped plant cucumbers in their garden. I have observed and assisted with meal preparations. I have taken a bath and washed clothes in a tunkin (sp?). I have played some of the traditional Mongolian games, which I will explain in more detail later when I have all the correct spelling and terminology to share. I have watched Mongolian TV with my family, which has ranged from Mongolian horse racing and wrestling to “So You Think You Can Dance” with Mongolian dubs. I have gotten used to using a squat toilet.

And I have eaten. And eaten. And eaten. I think I have been doing a good job of politely refusing when I simply can’t eat anymore, even though my family always asks if I want seconds or they keep telling me to eat. I thought before coming here that I would lose weight because I am not used to a heavy meat based diet, but it seems like most of the host families are making sure that doesn’t happen. The food I have been eating with my host family has been quite good, despite the fact that I’m not used to eating steaming hot soup and drinking hot tea when it is 80 degrees outside. I have been eating many variations of soup, with cabbage, carrots, onions, rice, noodles, and meat, and noodle or rice based dishes usually including those vegetables and pieces of goat meat in a non-soup form. There are many variations of dumplings too, which have been a favorite of mine. We had fried dumplings two nights ago that were delicious. They had mostly green onions and little pieces of meat inside. Quite good. Eggs are a favorite for breakfast, either boiled or fried with the yolk not cooked all the way (forgive me egg enthusiasts, but I don’t know what this is called). They have been feeding me well.

(Chicken cage, and view of community)

Another interesting thing I did with my host mom, sister, and brother began with my sister telling me “We are going to pluck.” By this point, I had been eating goat, sheep, and who knows what other type of meat. If I didn’t mention in my previous post, my family has chickens. So, when my sister said this, I thought “YES! We are having chicken tonight!!!” Alas, this did not mean we would be killing and plucking a chicken. Instead, it meant we went outside of our fence behind our house, which is where the cows graze, to collect dried cow dung for fire fuel. My sister’s translator on her phone has been helpful most of the time, but it was off with this one. Anyway, the view in this area is amazing, especially during sunset. It took the four of us about half an hour or so to fill up our containers.

During the week, I have been going to school. It is about a 10-15 minute walk, and there happens to be a significant sandy hill between my home and school. I am still getting used to this, especially as the weather is getting warmer. I am usually sweating a good bit by the time I get there. And it isn’t just once a day, but twice. Our language class starts at 9am until 1pm, with breaks in between. At 1:00pm, we have to go home to eat lunch and be back at the school by 2:30pm for our technical sessions. Eventually the hill will be easy, right? Sure. Technical sessions have us learning Monday and Wednesday-Friday about teaching English. We are also required to “micro-teach,” which is where we will practice teaching to community members throughout PST. On Tuesdays, we have cross cultural sessions where we learn about the Mongolian culture.

(Sandy hill, and view to the west)

It has been almost a week since I’ve seen Caleb. We were luckily able to see each other in Darkhan on Monday when we were getting our second series of shots. I have missed him, but he is coming to my soum next weekend on Saturday and will go back on Sunday. After that, it will be less than two weeks before we see each other again in Darkhan for mid-center days, when the whole group gets together for four days for more training.

Overall, I am doing very well. The language has been tough for me, but I know I’ll get better over time. My family is very welcoming, and I have some pretty amazing views of Mongolia. I have a feeling I am leaving some things out, so please feel free to ask questions in the comments. There is much I am still learning, and I am exciting about moving forward with becoming integrated into the Mongolian culture. 

~Sally

I could definitely live here. Oh wait… (6/7/15)

I DO live here. I LIVE here. I live HERE! Wow. Mongolia is a beautiful country, both the landscape and the culture. I met my host family for the first time on Friday. I love them. I belong here. From the moment they greeted me for the first time, I felt like I was a part of their family. I still am not sure what to call my host dad and mom, whether to go with the Mongolian words for father and mother, or call them by the shortened version of their names, which I confess, I still don’t have a handle on. I have THREE host sisters. Urnaa is 22 and I think has a degree in graphic design and her own photo studio in UB, which competing nationally in aerobics / gymnastics. Namuna is 21 and just graduated this spring with an accounting degree. Gangamaa is 15 and is my lifeline to communicating with everyone. She knows the most English of the family, although all the sisters know a little. Her English is very limited, but she knows enough that we can communicate important things when necessary. I also have one host brother who is 6 year old. The best way to get the pronunciation across might be Bynika, although that’s way off from being correct. There are two mountains in my community, and his name is a combination of the names of these mountains.

(My Host Family's house, The green roof building is my house.)

I and my language cluster (a group of 6 Peace Corps Trainees) are located north of Darkhan about 45 minutes. We are in the country. There is just one paved road here. Most people walk where they need to go. I have a great setup with my host family. In their hausha (spelling?), which is a piece of property surrounded by a fence, they have a house, another small building (where I live) and a few other structures for garden equipment, chickens, outhouse, etc. Pretty much all of their property is garden. They grow onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, and probably some other stuff. They also have chickens, from which I have been having eggs for breakfast every morning. Their house is made up of three spaces. The first space is kind of like a mud room. It has some gardening things, mops, brooms, and other outdoor type stuff. Then you open a door and walk up a couple steps to enter the actual house. This room is the kitchen area / bathroom sink. There is a stove in the middle of the room that is heated off of wood and dried cow dung. For those of you saying “ew,” it does NOT smell at all when it burns and is actually quite flammable and a great, free fuel source. There is a sink separated from the kitchen area to wash hands, brush teeth, etc. The “big” room is through the kitchen and is where the family sleeps. Yes, all six family members sleep in the same room. They also have a TV in this room, which turns out to be a favorite leisure activity.

There is no plumbing or water for the property. There is a water pump in the front yard from which to get water. Since we don’t have the enzymes to handle the water here, Peace Corps provided all of the trainees with a water filter, which holds probably 5 gallons of water. I have been getting my drinking water from my filter but have been brushing my teeth, bathing, etc. using the regular water.

My building is quite nice. It is a perfect space for me. I have a bed, two comfortable sitting chairs, a table with a few chairs and stools, my own wood burning stove, a TV, four drawers for my clothing, and corner with some bathroom type metal shelves that I keep all my soap, shampoo, toilet paper, etc. on. The roof and door frame are green, which is also exciting.

(My Building from the back)

My family has been so welcoming, even though I can’t understand anything they are saying to me. My soum is so beautiful. Pictures just don’t it justice. I wish each of you could see what I see from my backyard. It’s just incredible. 

~Sally

Cultural Differences Part 1

Dogs are everywhere. I think that I have seen maybe 50 different dogs of various age and size. I have seen some really cute puppies, and some raggedy old mutts. For all of the dogs I have seen, I have yet to touch one. The first prominent reason is because I haven’t finished my Rabies series that Peace Corps is administering. We all only have one more shot to complete the vaccine. The second reason is because you don’t touch Mongolian dogs. Period. Not unless you want to risk a bite.

The Mongolians do not treat dogs the same way as we do in America. They see the dogs more as tools than as pets. A Haasha (word refers to fence surrounding a family compound/yard) dog is often used to guard fenced in compounds, and is only friendly with people in its family. I have often thought that I get along well with dogs, but I have since realized that I get along with American dogs. The dogs here are more closely related to wolves and should be treated with the same respect. Because I am new, I have been barked at more times than I can count. Most of the time, the dogs bark at me from the safety of their fences warning me to stay away. Dogs on the street seem to be more focused on giving everyone a wide berth.

Family Cows outside the Gers 

Many Mongolians fear dogs, because they have had personal experience as a child with an angry one. They will often throw objects or beat away the dogs with sticks. This may seem dangerous or abusive, but it is only a cultural difference in treatment of the animals. I should also note that not all Mongolians treat dogs the same way. I have seen a number of dogs following masters in loving obedience.

It is extremely rude to throw keys to another person in Mongolia. Keys are only thrown at dogs.

Kids playing soccer down the street

Politeness and directness are key virtues of Mongolian culture. If you bump into someone or step on their toes, it is important to press their hand afterword while saying, “I’m Sorry/Excuse me,” in Mongolian.

One of my fellow volunteers stands at over six and a half feet tall. While walking behind him through the market I noticed a number of people running up to him exclaiming how tall he was. He may be the tallest person they have ever seen.

In another instance after a meal, I got out my Mongolian/English phrase book and pointed to “Be careful when you lift me,” as a jest at some of the strange phrases in the book. (I later realized that I was insinuating that I was stuffed with food, because I pointed right after dinner.) My family thought it was funny; however they interpreted it, and chuckling merrily, my host mother, wrote down my weight. She then insinuated in so few words that they would not be lifting me. (In an earlier blog I mention being weighed by my host mother who is the school doctor.)

Sunset from highest point on Family Haasha

The Mongolians are far more collectivist in culture than America; which is mostly individualistic. They do spend a lot of time with family, and often extended family life under one roof. In Mongolia it is family first and then job/career.  

The Peace Corps has explained that Privacy is a foreign concept to the Mongolians, who are comfortable living in tight spaces with family. It has been expressed to us that Mongolians do not knock on a door unless it is locked. If it isn’t they come right in. All of the host families are told that their Americans may want to be by themselves for periods of time, so my host family has given me plenty of space.

Prior to leaving for Mongolia, I shaved my beard. Since the age of 15, I have sported some form of facial hair. Peace Corps required me to shave, and at staging we were told that Mongolians do not like facial hair. I operated under the assumption that this was a hygiene issue and they thought it was dirty. Disliking facial hair strictly because of hygiene was a stance I could not fully respect, and I hoped to grow a beard once we had established credibility with our sight. Upon arriving to Ulaanbaatar the discussion of facial hair took a different turn when it was explained by true Mongolians. Facial hair is a distinction that elder men are allowed to have in respect to their age. (Virtually all images of Chinggas Haan display him with facial hair.) For a young person to have facial hair is to disrespect your elders. This explanation makes sense to me, and, while it still stings, I am coming to terms with the fact that I may have to shave for two years.

Periodically Sally or I will post regarding cultural differences that we notice. On a more temporal note, Sally and I are excited about this weekend because I will be traveling to her host community to see her and spend the night. It is the first of three visits that Peace Corps finances for us while we are separated. In addition to these visits we will also get to see each other for about 4 days at the end of the month during mid-days training.

~Caleb