My count-down is over, I am leaving Mongolia. In 30 minutes I will be on the way to the airport for my 3:30 flight to Beijing. I'll spend a few days there before heading to Shanghai.
I'm traveling with three other students from my program, our hostels are booked, we just need our train ticket to Shanghai, but that won't be too complicated...my friend is conversational in Chinese...I've lucked out!
I will be home December 20!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Dund Govi (as in the desert)
Again, I am hesitating to post more reflections because my limited time does not do them justice. The last two weeks have been overwhelming – the type of overwhelming that lights your heart on fire and pushes you on.
It started with my trip to the Gobi. I lived with a famous long-song singer. I learned a morin khuur (horse headed fiddle) song from him called “The Weeping Camel.” It’s played in patterns of three (resembling the camel’s gate), rather than in fours, which models the footsteps of a horse. Why is this distinction significant? Camels are king in the gobi, almost beating out the horse in importance to the survival of the herders who raise animals in the desert. Camels are also more surreal in the snow than they are in the sand. As I moved in, so did the snow that literally changed the entire feel of the area.
And it was cold. The kind of cold that took my breath away when I opened the door. The kind of cold that laughed at the small stove in the ger. The kind of cold that made you appreciate the glory of indoor plumbing at a whole new level…as you walked outside to use the “natural toilet” as my translator called it.
Yes, I learned the workings of “anthropological fieldwork,” arranging my own driver, accommodations, translator, even gas purchasing. At times I truly felt as though I were a ‘real’ anthropologist. Especially when I dipped into the gendered nature of my research: how women resist or participate in celebrating Mongolian culture through the promotion of the morin khuur (yes, I know that does not really make sense, but no worries, I’ll post my 40 page paper that explains it all…and then some).
I learned to talk to these women. More importantly, I got them to talk back.
They seemed to laugh when I said I wanted to speak with them at some point. They even left the room when the men began to talk. But as the smells of a large meal started to enter the room, I realized it was my chance to talk to the women, alone.
“I have been here for three months,” I said as my introduction when I entered the kitchen, “and I still cannot fold those things,” referring to the dumplings they were making. The next 20 minutes was spent with women fussing over me, laughing at me, using their best teaching techniques to no avail. Finally, the oldest daughter said, “She can play the morin khuur, but she can’t fold dumplings!”
The door was opened, and I was in. Finally.
And man, did they have a lot to say.
It started with my trip to the Gobi. I lived with a famous long-song singer. I learned a morin khuur (horse headed fiddle) song from him called “The Weeping Camel.” It’s played in patterns of three (resembling the camel’s gate), rather than in fours, which models the footsteps of a horse. Why is this distinction significant? Camels are king in the gobi, almost beating out the horse in importance to the survival of the herders who raise animals in the desert. Camels are also more surreal in the snow than they are in the sand. As I moved in, so did the snow that literally changed the entire feel of the area.
And it was cold. The kind of cold that took my breath away when I opened the door. The kind of cold that laughed at the small stove in the ger. The kind of cold that made you appreciate the glory of indoor plumbing at a whole new level…as you walked outside to use the “natural toilet” as my translator called it.
Yes, I learned the workings of “anthropological fieldwork,” arranging my own driver, accommodations, translator, even gas purchasing. At times I truly felt as though I were a ‘real’ anthropologist. Especially when I dipped into the gendered nature of my research: how women resist or participate in celebrating Mongolian culture through the promotion of the morin khuur (yes, I know that does not really make sense, but no worries, I’ll post my 40 page paper that explains it all…and then some).
I learned to talk to these women. More importantly, I got them to talk back.
They seemed to laugh when I said I wanted to speak with them at some point. They even left the room when the men began to talk. But as the smells of a large meal started to enter the room, I realized it was my chance to talk to the women, alone.
“I have been here for three months,” I said as my introduction when I entered the kitchen, “and I still cannot fold those things,” referring to the dumplings they were making. The next 20 minutes was spent with women fussing over me, laughing at me, using their best teaching techniques to no avail. Finally, the oldest daughter said, “She can play the morin khuur, but she can’t fold dumplings!”
The door was opened, and I was in. Finally.
And man, did they have a lot to say.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Morin Khuur Links
Great picture from UNESCO. They also have a great video about the instrument, even though they pronounce the instrument horribly wrong. They say it exactly as it is written in transliterate English...they should have known that was an indication they were doing it wrong!
Link to the video:
http://www.unesco.org/culture/ich/index.php?RL=00068
Link to the popular song, I will try to learn a simplified version of this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-hzihk7ETc&feature=related
Link to the video:
http://www.unesco.org/culture/ich/index.php?RL=00068
Link to the popular song, I will try to learn a simplified version of this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-hzihk7ETc&feature=related
Monday, November 22, 2010
Back in UB
The trip was worth the 5 hour drive and quick turn around time.
I went to the Gobi Desert...again. But this time it was covered in snow.
And this changed everything.
I learned, painfully, the song "The Weaping Camel" from a very interesting character who words cannot begin to describe. This is a morin khuur (horse headed fiddle) song that immitates the footsteps of a camel rather than a horse. And because the camel rivals the horse in importance in the Gobi, this makes sense (and its own section in my research). I think if I tried to begin to describe him it would start with his hat, but I took a picture of it, so I'll save my thousand words it would equal for the other things I would like to write.
Like, for example, my final paper and my Independent Study Project paper.
As always, I'll write more soon.
I went to the Gobi Desert...again. But this time it was covered in snow.
And this changed everything.
I learned, painfully, the song "The Weaping Camel" from a very interesting character who words cannot begin to describe. This is a morin khuur (horse headed fiddle) song that immitates the footsteps of a camel rather than a horse. And because the camel rivals the horse in importance in the Gobi, this makes sense (and its own section in my research). I think if I tried to begin to describe him it would start with his hat, but I took a picture of it, so I'll save my thousand words it would equal for the other things I would like to write.
Like, for example, my final paper and my Independent Study Project paper.
As always, I'll write more soon.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Countryside Here I come...again!
Tomorrow, 6:00AM I will be leaving for Deren Soum, in Dund Govi Aimag. It's about 300 KM south of UB, so hopefully less than a bumpy 6 hour drive.
At this point I am questioning if the drive is worth the short time I will be staying there, especially since my page paper is not writing itself. But I will finally do the field observations necessary to pull everything that I have been doing together.
I am still deciding if I will bring my own Morin Khuur with me, but I'll save that until the last minute.
I will travel with a translator, and the woman and man that I am staying with. They are visiting family in UB right now, and after I met with them I said I would arrange transportation if I could stay with them and observe the morin khuur in their home.
Never think that's a fair trade before considering the presence of roads. But it is what it is, and I am excited to be leaving.
At this point I am questioning if the drive is worth the short time I will be staying there, especially since my page paper is not writing itself. But I will finally do the field observations necessary to pull everything that I have been doing together.
I am still deciding if I will bring my own Morin Khuur with me, but I'll save that until the last minute.
I will travel with a translator, and the woman and man that I am staying with. They are visiting family in UB right now, and after I met with them I said I would arrange transportation if I could stay with them and observe the morin khuur in their home.
Never think that's a fair trade before considering the presence of roads. But it is what it is, and I am excited to be leaving.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Morin Khuur
I posted the video from the Morin Khuur players a while ago, but I did not fully explain the significance of the instrument.
I am learning to play it.
The morin khuur (said like "more-EEEn Hor") is the national instrument of Mongolia. I won't go into describing it, because you can see it below in the video. I will also post pictures of mine soon.
Yes, mine! I am the proud owner of the hardest instrument I have ever played. Why is it hard? First of all, the darn thing hurts to play. If you number the fingers on your left hand (pointer=1, middle=2, ring=3, pinky=4), you play 1 and 2 fingers by placing cuticle against the string, but 3 and 4 by pressing perpendicular to the strings. The slightest movement of your finger shifts the sound, thus I find myself not only exerting an unnecessary amount of force against my fingers, but also completely aware of the tenderness of the cuticle! Add sliding your fingers up and down strings, while exerting this force and aware of its pain and you’ll find yourself questioning exactly how good of an idea it was for you to learn to play.
Play a scale perfectly (after being shown only one time) and have a famous morin khuur bagsh (teacher) tell you he’s completely impressed with you, and you stop questioning.
It’s a beautiful instrument. It makes a beautiful sound. And learning to play an instrument central to a country’s culture is almost as powerful as learning to speak the country’s language, only more powerful. When I became a student of an instrument like the morin khuur I felt like I made the proclamation that I deeply respect Mongolian culture and was taking a risk by asking to be taught, a request which could be rejected. Rather than a moment’s hesitation, I was received as a student.
I take lessons twice a week, and will leave here with a total of 8 lessons.
I interviewed the morin khuur maker, finding out that the place where I signed up for lessons was in fact his own store and that Eiderbat Bagsh was his friend. I explained that I wanted to buy an instrument because of these lessons, and he offered to bring me a selection of morin khuurs to my first lesson. Sure enough, he showed up, last Thursday and he along with Eiderbat Bagsh picked out the most beautiful morin khuur…for me, an American.
I will have my third lesson on Thursday.
Every time I play the morin khuur, I feel more integrated into this culture, this land, this way of life.
…here’s hoping I can learn some songs!
I am learning to play it.
The morin khuur (said like "more-EEEn Hor") is the national instrument of Mongolia. I won't go into describing it, because you can see it below in the video. I will also post pictures of mine soon.
Yes, mine! I am the proud owner of the hardest instrument I have ever played. Why is it hard? First of all, the darn thing hurts to play. If you number the fingers on your left hand (pointer=1, middle=2, ring=3, pinky=4), you play 1 and 2 fingers by placing cuticle against the string, but 3 and 4 by pressing perpendicular to the strings. The slightest movement of your finger shifts the sound, thus I find myself not only exerting an unnecessary amount of force against my fingers, but also completely aware of the tenderness of the cuticle! Add sliding your fingers up and down strings, while exerting this force and aware of its pain and you’ll find yourself questioning exactly how good of an idea it was for you to learn to play.
Play a scale perfectly (after being shown only one time) and have a famous morin khuur bagsh (teacher) tell you he’s completely impressed with you, and you stop questioning.
It’s a beautiful instrument. It makes a beautiful sound. And learning to play an instrument central to a country’s culture is almost as powerful as learning to speak the country’s language, only more powerful. When I became a student of an instrument like the morin khuur I felt like I made the proclamation that I deeply respect Mongolian culture and was taking a risk by asking to be taught, a request which could be rejected. Rather than a moment’s hesitation, I was received as a student.
I take lessons twice a week, and will leave here with a total of 8 lessons.
I interviewed the morin khuur maker, finding out that the place where I signed up for lessons was in fact his own store and that Eiderbat Bagsh was his friend. I explained that I wanted to buy an instrument because of these lessons, and he offered to bring me a selection of morin khuurs to my first lesson. Sure enough, he showed up, last Thursday and he along with Eiderbat Bagsh picked out the most beautiful morin khuur…for me, an American.
I will have my third lesson on Thursday.
Every time I play the morin khuur, I feel more integrated into this culture, this land, this way of life.
…here’s hoping I can learn some songs!
Monday, November 15, 2010
By the way...my classroom
This is my classroom at SIT. There are two other rooms. We eat lunch, hear MANY talks, and had daily language class here.
Pictures from Homestay
These are some pictures to add to my previous post!
About to go on a 3 hour long horse treck.
My host mother.
The Lake
The Family's Store
The Wolf
Yes, a wolf.
The TREES!
About to go on a 3 hour long horse treck.
My host mother.
The Lake
The Family's Store
The Wolf
Yes, a wolf.
The TREES!
The Lake, the Trees, the Wildlife: The Environment and the Community it has Built
Introduction
The Khatgal homestay proved to be a completely different experience from Delgerkhan in every way possible – starting with the landscape. There were trees. I have never contemplated my relationship with trees before even though my home and University in the States are surrounded by trees that are particularly noticeable during the current season. I would not pick this as an example of something that I did not appreciate until it was no longer there, but rather of something that affects one in ways never examined unless specifically forced to do so.
But even so, I had not realized how absent they are in Mongolia until I found myself surrounded by trees in Khatgal. The trees gave the entire area a different feel and added attractive variation to the endless steppe. They hinted at a separate world beneath their protection. These particular trees, the Nordic Pine, look like a common Pine tree you would see in the States, except they had changed colors to a rich yellow rather than green and their pines were soft to the touch rather than prickly. While I saw them consistently on the drive from the Aimag center, they seemed to only surrounded the perimeter of Khatgal. They were also the first indication that Khatgal is environmentally unique and delicate, two things that always seem to go hand in hand.
The second indication was the lake, Huvsgul Lake. The lake, like the trees, was a shock to my senses. My home in the States is located on the Ohio River and I consider its existence to be an important feature of my community. While Lake Huvsgul provided the same comfort as the body of water I am used to at home, I would only learn the significance of and true dependence on the lake after living with members of the Khatgal community.
I am grateful that one of my first introductions to Khatgal was the environmentally focused welcome center, which displayed information about water use and quality, diversity of animal species, land protection and laws, and results of many ongoing environmental studies of the area. This included beautiful bird species, which I had read to be a staple of Mongolian country side but had not seen until then. Beyond that, I would learn that this community is one tied to the environment - particularly economically through tourism, individually as direct consumers of its resources, and morally as protectors of its future.
The Homestay: One Family, Two Houses
While unnervingly confusing at the time, I now realize I was lucky to experience two different homestay families while in Khatgal. My host family had not returned from Murun, the Aimag Center, so I was picked up by my host father’s sister. When my host mother had still not returned, it was decided that I would be more comfortable in a house with several people – the grandfather, aunt, and cousin – rather than at my assigned house with only my father.
Indeed, it was a comfortable set up. The house was a part of a relatively large plot of fenced land containing several structures. Facing outward to the public was the family’s store, the main source of income for my host father and several of his siblings. The store appeared to me to be similar to the others in the town, but I would learn later that this store had been recognized with an award as best store in the Soum.
Sleeping (I say sleeping rather than living because many regular visitors would qualify as living in my book) in the same house was an older man, the sister of my host father and her daughter. She was a thirteen-year-old girl who not only was kicked out of her bed for me but also encouraged and forced to practice English with me. My most valued moment with her occurred during one of these forced conversations. I believe she was told to show me a pile of new books she had just acquired. While flipping through the titles, I asked what her favorite book was. She pointed to the Mongolian Language book, and turned to the poetry section. When I asked her what her favorite poem was, she pointed to “Bi Mongol Hun” (translated directly "I am a Mongolian Person" or better translated "I am Mongol").
I asked her to read it to me, and she did. It was not before that that I realized how long, indeed, the poem is, and that it is awkward for both the reader and the listener to sit through such a long reading when neither is sure the other actually meant for it to be read in full. However sitting next to a child, reading her favorite poem, especially one that I believe to contain patriotism and passion for Mongolia, was extremely powerful. I wrote the poem out in my journal, but still have not been able to translate it properly:
Аргалын утаа боргилсон
Малчны гэрт төрсөн би
Атар хээр нутгаа
Өлгий минь гэж боддог
Цэнхэр манан суунагласан
Алсын барааг ширтээд
Цэлгэр сайхан нутгаа
Сэтгэл бахдан харахад
Үлээж байгаа салхи нь
Үнсээд ч байгаа юм шиг
Өршөөлт ээжийн минь гар
Илээд ч байгаа юм шиг
Энэрэнгүй сайхан санагдахад
Элэг зүрх минь догдолж
Хосгүй баярын нулимс
Хоёр нүдийг минь бүрхдэг
Also interesting about this family was the wolf chained up in the back yard. Yes, wolf chained up in the back yard, no big deal.
As best I understood, the family captured the wolf as a baby, and they are waiting for it to get fully grown before killing it for its ankle bones and fur. I had trouble not passing judgment about this, I think particularly because I did not have the opportunity to talk with the family about it through a translator and know the situations surrounding it.
When my mother returned, I was happily collected from the first house and moved farther from the school to my second family. I instantly felt at home. My host mother walked me around their land showing me each of the structures. She rents two houses on her land. One was currently vacant, the Peace Corps volunteer who lived there for the past two years had moved back to America. The other was rented by a doctor, her husband, and their child. My host mother was a Monglian Script teacher at the school. My host father was a driver who supplied the family’s store by driving to the Soum Center as needed. My eight year old host brother spent most of the time doing homework and watching TV.
The Interview: Environment and Teaching
Similar to the Delgerkhan interview, I was once again impressed with the knowledge of vast topics and the global awareness that came through the interview. The first topic that to prove this was that of the environment. Clearly Huvsgul residents are more inclined to be aware and concerned of the environment, since they live in an ecosystem that is recognized and valued by the whole of Mongolia. However their awareness surpassed the casual knowledge a person might have of their surroundings, simply because they live there. Not only that, but their knowledge also transferred into action. A large part of the interview consisted of my host family describing a type of community organized watch group. Community volunteers divided into different groups one to protect the lake, one to monitor logging, and other areas of protection. The groups organize different things throughout the year, but the most important function is monitoring. People in the group divide up the land to watch for improper use. If, for example, someone is cutting trees without permission (all fire wood must come from trees that have fallen naturally) the people in the group report it to the Soum government who calls a patrol unit to enforce it.
When I asked my host mother why the environment was important to protect, she gave an answer that even through interpretation would best an environmental expert. She said the environment is the future. “Everything we do, everything we have is connected to the environment. I do things like use a concrete latrine system and only use wood that came from trees that have not been cut because I want my son to have a clean place to live when he gets older. If we do not protect the environment, who will?”
My host mother’s eloquent dialogue continued as the conversation transitioned to the topic of education. My host mother was a Mongolian Script teacher and she appeared to be beloved by her students. When I asked her why she became a teacher, she said that when she came to the Soum from the country side, she knew nothing. Her teacher taught her everything, and from a young age she decided to become a teacher. She traveled to the Aimag center for various teaching workshops, and each night she prepared for the next lesson. This gave me the impression that she was involved in curriculum development and higher levels of education. When I asked about it, she confirmed my guesses.
After teaching several days in the same school, I was interested in knowing more about the spread of English, and what a Mongolian Script teacher thinks about foreigners coming to her school and teaching English without a firm grasp on the Mongolian language. She was perfectly qualified to speak to this as she rented a house on her land (for 30,000 MGT a month) to a PeaceCorps Volunteer who taught English for the past two years.
“English is such a basic language,” she said. “If you can speak English, you can do many things. I do not think Americans are pushing English onto other countries, it’s just a basic language that many people speak.” Perhaps my worries hesitations about teaching English are not validated by how people actually feel.
For a long time, I have struggled with Americans right out of college moving to a developing country with some program that pays for them to teach English. Without real teaching preparation or knowledge of the local language, Americans move to a different country with an air of self righteousness about the important work they will be doing since they are teaching English.
After my two experiences teaching, however, I think differently. First of all, with no formal training as an educator, I did realize I had innate skills that allowed me to communicate effectively with the students. Also, with creativity and limited language skills, I was able to communicate with the students. Not only that, but an important thing I could offer the students was pronunciation and exposure to a native English speaker. I left Huvsgul with a completely new outlook on teaching English.
----------------------------------
This is a review written after my second homestay.
The Khatgal homestay proved to be a completely different experience from Delgerkhan in every way possible – starting with the landscape. There were trees. I have never contemplated my relationship with trees before even though my home and University in the States are surrounded by trees that are particularly noticeable during the current season. I would not pick this as an example of something that I did not appreciate until it was no longer there, but rather of something that affects one in ways never examined unless specifically forced to do so.
But even so, I had not realized how absent they are in Mongolia until I found myself surrounded by trees in Khatgal. The trees gave the entire area a different feel and added attractive variation to the endless steppe. They hinted at a separate world beneath their protection. These particular trees, the Nordic Pine, look like a common Pine tree you would see in the States, except they had changed colors to a rich yellow rather than green and their pines were soft to the touch rather than prickly. While I saw them consistently on the drive from the Aimag center, they seemed to only surrounded the perimeter of Khatgal. They were also the first indication that Khatgal is environmentally unique and delicate, two things that always seem to go hand in hand.
The second indication was the lake, Huvsgul Lake. The lake, like the trees, was a shock to my senses. My home in the States is located on the Ohio River and I consider its existence to be an important feature of my community. While Lake Huvsgul provided the same comfort as the body of water I am used to at home, I would only learn the significance of and true dependence on the lake after living with members of the Khatgal community.
I am grateful that one of my first introductions to Khatgal was the environmentally focused welcome center, which displayed information about water use and quality, diversity of animal species, land protection and laws, and results of many ongoing environmental studies of the area. This included beautiful bird species, which I had read to be a staple of Mongolian country side but had not seen until then. Beyond that, I would learn that this community is one tied to the environment - particularly economically through tourism, individually as direct consumers of its resources, and morally as protectors of its future.
The Homestay: One Family, Two Houses
While unnervingly confusing at the time, I now realize I was lucky to experience two different homestay families while in Khatgal. My host family had not returned from Murun, the Aimag Center, so I was picked up by my host father’s sister. When my host mother had still not returned, it was decided that I would be more comfortable in a house with several people – the grandfather, aunt, and cousin – rather than at my assigned house with only my father.
Indeed, it was a comfortable set up. The house was a part of a relatively large plot of fenced land containing several structures. Facing outward to the public was the family’s store, the main source of income for my host father and several of his siblings. The store appeared to me to be similar to the others in the town, but I would learn later that this store had been recognized with an award as best store in the Soum.
Sleeping (I say sleeping rather than living because many regular visitors would qualify as living in my book) in the same house was an older man, the sister of my host father and her daughter. She was a thirteen-year-old girl who not only was kicked out of her bed for me but also encouraged and forced to practice English with me. My most valued moment with her occurred during one of these forced conversations. I believe she was told to show me a pile of new books she had just acquired. While flipping through the titles, I asked what her favorite book was. She pointed to the Mongolian Language book, and turned to the poetry section. When I asked her what her favorite poem was, she pointed to “Bi Mongol Hun” (translated directly "I am a Mongolian Person" or better translated "I am Mongol").
I asked her to read it to me, and she did. It was not before that that I realized how long, indeed, the poem is, and that it is awkward for both the reader and the listener to sit through such a long reading when neither is sure the other actually meant for it to be read in full. However sitting next to a child, reading her favorite poem, especially one that I believe to contain patriotism and passion for Mongolia, was extremely powerful. I wrote the poem out in my journal, but still have not been able to translate it properly:
Аргалын утаа боргилсон
Малчны гэрт төрсөн би
Атар хээр нутгаа
Өлгий минь гэж боддог
Цэнхэр манан суунагласан
Алсын барааг ширтээд
Цэлгэр сайхан нутгаа
Сэтгэл бахдан харахад
Үлээж байгаа салхи нь
Үнсээд ч байгаа юм шиг
Өршөөлт ээжийн минь гар
Илээд ч байгаа юм шиг
Энэрэнгүй сайхан санагдахад
Элэг зүрх минь догдолж
Хосгүй баярын нулимс
Хоёр нүдийг минь бүрхдэг
Also interesting about this family was the wolf chained up in the back yard. Yes, wolf chained up in the back yard, no big deal.
As best I understood, the family captured the wolf as a baby, and they are waiting for it to get fully grown before killing it for its ankle bones and fur. I had trouble not passing judgment about this, I think particularly because I did not have the opportunity to talk with the family about it through a translator and know the situations surrounding it.
When my mother returned, I was happily collected from the first house and moved farther from the school to my second family. I instantly felt at home. My host mother walked me around their land showing me each of the structures. She rents two houses on her land. One was currently vacant, the Peace Corps volunteer who lived there for the past two years had moved back to America. The other was rented by a doctor, her husband, and their child. My host mother was a Monglian Script teacher at the school. My host father was a driver who supplied the family’s store by driving to the Soum Center as needed. My eight year old host brother spent most of the time doing homework and watching TV.
The Interview: Environment and Teaching
Similar to the Delgerkhan interview, I was once again impressed with the knowledge of vast topics and the global awareness that came through the interview. The first topic that to prove this was that of the environment. Clearly Huvsgul residents are more inclined to be aware and concerned of the environment, since they live in an ecosystem that is recognized and valued by the whole of Mongolia. However their awareness surpassed the casual knowledge a person might have of their surroundings, simply because they live there. Not only that, but their knowledge also transferred into action. A large part of the interview consisted of my host family describing a type of community organized watch group. Community volunteers divided into different groups one to protect the lake, one to monitor logging, and other areas of protection. The groups organize different things throughout the year, but the most important function is monitoring. People in the group divide up the land to watch for improper use. If, for example, someone is cutting trees without permission (all fire wood must come from trees that have fallen naturally) the people in the group report it to the Soum government who calls a patrol unit to enforce it.
When I asked my host mother why the environment was important to protect, she gave an answer that even through interpretation would best an environmental expert. She said the environment is the future. “Everything we do, everything we have is connected to the environment. I do things like use a concrete latrine system and only use wood that came from trees that have not been cut because I want my son to have a clean place to live when he gets older. If we do not protect the environment, who will?”
My host mother’s eloquent dialogue continued as the conversation transitioned to the topic of education. My host mother was a Mongolian Script teacher and she appeared to be beloved by her students. When I asked her why she became a teacher, she said that when she came to the Soum from the country side, she knew nothing. Her teacher taught her everything, and from a young age she decided to become a teacher. She traveled to the Aimag center for various teaching workshops, and each night she prepared for the next lesson. This gave me the impression that she was involved in curriculum development and higher levels of education. When I asked about it, she confirmed my guesses.
After teaching several days in the same school, I was interested in knowing more about the spread of English, and what a Mongolian Script teacher thinks about foreigners coming to her school and teaching English without a firm grasp on the Mongolian language. She was perfectly qualified to speak to this as she rented a house on her land (for 30,000 MGT a month) to a PeaceCorps Volunteer who taught English for the past two years.
“English is such a basic language,” she said. “If you can speak English, you can do many things. I do not think Americans are pushing English onto other countries, it’s just a basic language that many people speak.” Perhaps my worries hesitations about teaching English are not validated by how people actually feel.
For a long time, I have struggled with Americans right out of college moving to a developing country with some program that pays for them to teach English. Without real teaching preparation or knowledge of the local language, Americans move to a different country with an air of self righteousness about the important work they will be doing since they are teaching English.
After my two experiences teaching, however, I think differently. First of all, with no formal training as an educator, I did realize I had innate skills that allowed me to communicate effectively with the students. Also, with creativity and limited language skills, I was able to communicate with the students. Not only that, but an important thing I could offer the students was pronunciation and exposure to a native English speaker. I left Huvsgul with a completely new outlook on teaching English.
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This is a review written after my second homestay.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Morin Khuur Video
This is the video from when the Morin Khuur Ensemble came to our classroom and preformed. I have since interviewed several members, usually rushing to their practice studio during their breaks to speak for brief, ten-minute intervals. They are leaving for Russia tomorrow, so they have not had as much time for me as they normally would give an SIT student. I am realizing now that this post does not make much sense as I have not explained my research project. I am trying to organize a translator for an interview in an hour, but after that I shall sit down and catch up.
PS: Mom, hope it's okay that I'm bringing that there large horse instrument home with me. We have plenty of room next to all of my other random instruments...right??
PS: Mom, hope it's okay that I'm bringing that there large horse instrument home with me. We have plenty of room next to all of my other random instruments...right??
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Hamryn Hiid Excursion
Before I have properly 'blogged' about everything since my last homestay, I am leaving on our next excursion. We are heading to Sainshand, Dornogobi Aimag. We will be there from October 20 - October 23. I leave tomorrow morning by train. This coming Monday is my oral and written language exam, so this trip will be filled with language study. Tonight I am struggling to finish my Independent Study Project proposal. The ISP is the month long study project where we are set loose to study whatever we want. I will post my proposal up here once I have things finalized...but for now, here's a teaser. This is the State Morin Khuur (Horse Headed Fiddle) Ensemble, or three of them, whow came to our classroom to play. They are about to head out on a big tour, but I did get to find out where to buy the Horse Headed Fiddle before they had to leave!
(hmm... I need faster internet before this will happen...apparently.)
(hmm... I need faster internet before this will happen...apparently.)
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
The Practice of Loneliness
Уулыг хараад би уул гэдгээ мэддэг
Униар мананг ажаад үүл гэдгээ мэдэрдэг
Бороо шивэрсний дараа өвс гэдгээ сэрдэг
Богширгоны жиргээ эхэлмэгц өглөө гэдгээ санадаг
Би хүн л биш
Од дүрэлзэхийн цагт харанхүй гэдгээ мэддэг
Охид нимгэлээд эхэлмэгц хавар гэдгээ санадаг
Ертөнцийн хүн бүрээс гагц хүсэл л үнэртэхэд
Ерөөс амгалан зүрх минь загасных болохыг ойлгодог
Би хүн л биш
Өнгө өнгийн тэнгэр дор аугаа их ХООСОН,
Өнөөдрөөс эхлээд би, зөвхөн...
I look at a mountain and know that I am mountain
I observe mist and perceive that I am cloud
After rain sprinkles I sense that I am grass
As soon as the sparrow's twittering begins, I remember
that I am morning
I am not merely human
When a star flares up I know that I am darkness
As soon as girls shed their thick winter clothes, I remember
that I am spring
When I smell only longing from every person in the universe
My ever more tranquil heart understands that it is a fish's
I am not merely human
Under a multi-colored sky the immense VOID,
From today on I, only…
Униар мананг ажаад үүл гэдгээ мэдэрдэг
Бороо шивэрсний дараа өвс гэдгээ сэрдэг
Богширгоны жиргээ эхэлмэгц өглөө гэдгээ санадаг
Би хүн л биш
Од дүрэлзэхийн цагт харанхүй гэдгээ мэддэг
Охид нимгэлээд эхэлмэгц хавар гэдгээ санадаг
Ертөнцийн хүн бүрээс гагц хүсэл л үнэртэхэд
Ерөөс амгалан зүрх минь загасных болохыг ойлгодог
Би хүн л биш
Өнгө өнгийн тэнгэр дор аугаа их ХООСОН,
Өнөөдрөөс эхлээд би, зөвхөн...
I look at a mountain and know that I am mountain
I observe mist and perceive that I am cloud
After rain sprinkles I sense that I am grass
As soon as the sparrow's twittering begins, I remember
that I am morning
I am not merely human
When a star flares up I know that I am darkness
As soon as girls shed their thick winter clothes, I remember
that I am spring
When I smell only longing from every person in the universe
My ever more tranquil heart understands that it is a fish's
I am not merely human
Under a multi-colored sky the immense VOID,
From today on I, only…
Flowers of Death
Flowers of Death
Үс сэрвэлзэх ч салхин үгүй талд
Үнэр, өнгөгүй түмэн цэцэг найгана.
Үл мэдэгхэн санаа алдахын цуурайг
Үүрдийн тайвшрал, мөнхийн зүүд залгана.
On a steppe without even a wind that would move a hair
Thousands of flowers without scent or color sway.
The smallest sigh's echo
Is followed by eternal calm and an infinite dream.
Үс сэрвэлзэх ч салхин үгүй талд
Үнэр, өнгөгүй түмэн цэцэг найгана.
Үл мэдэгхэн санаа алдахын цуурайг
Үүрдийн тайвшрал, мөнхийн зүүд залгана.
On a steppe without even a wind that would move a hair
Thousands of flowers without scent or color sway.
The smallest sigh's echo
Is followed by eternal calm and an infinite dream.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Leaving for the Countryside
I had great aspirations for this post, but rather than not doing it at all since I do not have time to accomplish it as planned,I will settle for this.
Tomorrow, Monday September 27 I leave for the countryside. I am going to fly to Murun, Huvsgul Aimag. Then, We drive to the homestay site in the Khatgal Soum. Then I will move in with my third homestay family.
On this homestay, I will also be teaching English like the last rural homestay. On Tuesday October 5, I will drive to Erdenet, currently the largest mining operation in Mongolia. I will be back in UB (coming home by train) on Saturday, October 9. This past week has been full with meeting all sorts of people and hearing lectures on various topics. I am definitely ready for the change of scenary and some fresh air!
The weather is colder here. Our first snow happened two nights ago.
Best to my sister who is moving to London tomorrow. And congrats to my grandmother who I have heard gave an amazing speech at the ribbon cutting for Eastern Blvd!
Tomorrow, Monday September 27 I leave for the countryside. I am going to fly to Murun, Huvsgul Aimag. Then, We drive to the homestay site in the Khatgal Soum. Then I will move in with my third homestay family.
On this homestay, I will also be teaching English like the last rural homestay. On Tuesday October 5, I will drive to Erdenet, currently the largest mining operation in Mongolia. I will be back in UB (coming home by train) on Saturday, October 9. This past week has been full with meeting all sorts of people and hearing lectures on various topics. I am definitely ready for the change of scenary and some fresh air!
The weather is colder here. Our first snow happened two nights ago.
Best to my sister who is moving to London tomorrow. And congrats to my grandmother who I have heard gave an amazing speech at the ribbon cutting for Eastern Blvd!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Internet and Pictures!
I often type my blog entries into a word document and just copy them onto the internet when I have internet, that's why the date and times of my posts might seem strange. So, even though I just posted the previous post, I already can confirm that yes, I have internet in my room, on my own computer.
I also now have pictures of the apartment!
Thanks to my mom who bought me this wonderful, tiny netbook. And my Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin who let me use their camera for this trip.
Already Feeling At Home ... again
I am about to go to sleep in my new home. Once again, I have lucked out on homestay families; they are better than I could have imagined. They might have something to do with my change of opinion about UB. I was dreading coming back to the city from the countryside, but I'm finding myself overwhelmed with excitement to actually learn what the city has to offer. When I lived here for orientation, our group of 8 rarely separated and we hardly explored at all. I think it was because I was more focused on not getting sick, getting enough sleep, not getting hit by traffic, and learning the language (basically surviving) rather than living.
After today - I'm ready to live in this city.
And that's a good thing since I am the farthest away from my school. I also was placed in a very remote rural homestay home, so when briefing us on our new families they joked, "Grace, since we know how much you love being isolated, you're living here." I couldn't get a straight answer on how long of a bus ride to school it will be - people just laughed when I asked if I would have any problems with traffic. Regardless, being this far away has introduced me to a new side of the city. Just driving around near my apartment, I can clearly see a difference between the types of places I have been so far, and the places where people who live here actually go.
My family consists of a mother (42), father (42), sister (18), brother (8) and four, relatively large rooms, plus a bathroom (the city has hot water again!). We live in Apartment #4 (a good omen for me), and as I entered the home, "Sanchin" (my brother) quickly pulled me through the door and showed me to his sister's room. He pointed to a fold out bed to indicate where I would be sleeping. Sanchin sleeps on his parents floor (normal for most children). Their room appears to also be someone's office. They have a flat-screen computer and internet. Apparently someone is coming tomorrow to add an internet connection to my room. The living room houses a large flat-screen and comfortable couches and chairs. The kitchen has a sink, stove, refrigerator, freezer, microwave and ... my favorite thing about my host father so far ... 9 large fish tanks.
It's been explained to me as his hobby, but I wonder if he doesn't actually sell the fish once they get big. When I told my host mother, "Bi Durtay" or 'I like' she said, "My husband...LOVES" (The sweetest broken Mongolian/English exchange so far). He has angel fish, along with others I have not yet identified. Right now there are about 20 baby angel fish in one tank and 6 or so larger ones in others. In addition to being a fish lover, my host father is an electrical engineer. My mother is a University Teacher and my sister is at University studying financial administration.
My sister and I cooked dinner, which was ready by the time her mother came home. After dinner, my host mom and I had a very long and very patient conversation. From it I understand the following: I have free internet, I have free laundry facilities, I am not to cook after dinner but I can eat any of the food already prepared, I will be driven to my brother's school in the morning where I will then catch the No. 27 bus to school, I have complete freedom but I am to call her if I will not be home by seven, and I am not to feel obligated to stay up with them if I am tired. When I pointed to the word for 'chores' in the dictionary, she laughed and looked proud of me. She said 'no'. Then we did the dishes together.
They hosted a student two years ago, which explains why she fought through the language barrier to tell me all of those things. After the conversation, she told me I spoke more Mongolian than the last student. She said, "Sara bad, Grace good." So, basically I'm feeling pretty good about myself right now, not to mention about to study Mongolian even more than I originally planned.
After today - I'm ready to live in this city.
And that's a good thing since I am the farthest away from my school. I also was placed in a very remote rural homestay home, so when briefing us on our new families they joked, "Grace, since we know how much you love being isolated, you're living here." I couldn't get a straight answer on how long of a bus ride to school it will be - people just laughed when I asked if I would have any problems with traffic. Regardless, being this far away has introduced me to a new side of the city. Just driving around near my apartment, I can clearly see a difference between the types of places I have been so far, and the places where people who live here actually go.
My family consists of a mother (42), father (42), sister (18), brother (8) and four, relatively large rooms, plus a bathroom (the city has hot water again!). We live in Apartment #4 (a good omen for me), and as I entered the home, "Sanchin" (my brother) quickly pulled me through the door and showed me to his sister's room. He pointed to a fold out bed to indicate where I would be sleeping. Sanchin sleeps on his parents floor (normal for most children). Their room appears to also be someone's office. They have a flat-screen computer and internet. Apparently someone is coming tomorrow to add an internet connection to my room. The living room houses a large flat-screen and comfortable couches and chairs. The kitchen has a sink, stove, refrigerator, freezer, microwave and ... my favorite thing about my host father so far ... 9 large fish tanks.
It's been explained to me as his hobby, but I wonder if he doesn't actually sell the fish once they get big. When I told my host mother, "Bi Durtay" or 'I like' she said, "My husband...LOVES" (The sweetest broken Mongolian/English exchange so far). He has angel fish, along with others I have not yet identified. Right now there are about 20 baby angel fish in one tank and 6 or so larger ones in others. In addition to being a fish lover, my host father is an electrical engineer. My mother is a University Teacher and my sister is at University studying financial administration.
My sister and I cooked dinner, which was ready by the time her mother came home. After dinner, my host mom and I had a very long and very patient conversation. From it I understand the following: I have free internet, I have free laundry facilities, I am not to cook after dinner but I can eat any of the food already prepared, I will be driven to my brother's school in the morning where I will then catch the No. 27 bus to school, I have complete freedom but I am to call her if I will not be home by seven, and I am not to feel obligated to stay up with them if I am tired. When I pointed to the word for 'chores' in the dictionary, she laughed and looked proud of me. She said 'no'. Then we did the dishes together.
They hosted a student two years ago, which explains why she fought through the language barrier to tell me all of those things. After the conversation, she told me I spoke more Mongolian than the last student. She said, "Sara bad, Grace good." So, basically I'm feeling pretty good about myself right now, not to mention about to study Mongolian even more than I originally planned.