Sain baina uu!
I figured it’s about time for another blog post (two a month is
good, yeah?). I’ve been keeping a
journal of my experiences here in Mongolia, which I write in most days. Of course the challenge is what experiences I
should include in my blog.
To start off this post I want to quote something I heard the other
week regarding the idea of “home.”
“LIFE IS A
JOURNEY, AND THE JOURNEY ITSELF IS HOME.”
Home is often viewed, if not always viewed, as a place. This place is where our loved ones are. I’ve been challenged with the concept that
I’ve been “away” from home, maybe not actually content with my decision to
leave my loved ones behind. This has put
a grey cloud of unknowing over the two years ahead and a bright light at the
end of the tunnel when I finally come back “home” to Washington. We can only experience “home”, I’m realizing,
right now. Living situations change. They always will. Growing up in Yelm, I always reflect of the
“home” that I once had. The settings of
my dreams always originate around the old house on Yelm Avenue. With Grandma’s passing five months ago, this
has made the image of my childhood “home” strongly based in Yelm. People pass and our definition of home
continues to be refined because of it. I
have more than one image of home, however.
When our family moved to Castle Rock in 2008, a new image of home was
formed. When I think of my family now, I
contemplate their living in Castle Rock.
Can home be more than one place? It
seems to be for me. Or perhaps home
isn’t a place at all.
Home is not a destination; it’s the journey of the moment. Each one of us is already “home.” Every single moment we’re surrounded by Love,
that which God is. It’s right here, right now. I can still feel the love that is sent from
family and friends back in the States at different moments. Home
transcends space because Love transcends space. The memories and thoughts of my family and
friends in the States are no different than the physical experiences themselves
when they happened. I often relive those
experiences here in Mongolia, browsing through endless pictures of precious
memories. It’s not just thoughts of the
past that bring me back “home.” It’s any
thought, any place, any experience. Everything
is as it should be. We are where we are
supposed to be. Every moment is “home,”
if we choose to become aware of it. I
thought this quote showed itself at the perfect time.
It’s been an intensive week of Mongolian classes and teaching.
The Mongolian language is totally different from English. Having
difficulty with Spanish in the past, I needed the fresh start of foreign
language acquisition. Every day at about 8:40 I begin walking to the
school, along with my friends April and Rose.
It’s about a ten-minute walk one way.
Walking to school twice a day, we spend about 40 minutes walking a day. It reminds me of Grandma Iverson’s story, walking
to and from school five miles every day.
It also reminds me of Grandpa Rothwell’s childhood days walking to and
from school in Alma. I guess I never
really understood what a “walk” was
until I started doing it here. Cars get
us everywhere in America. We even use
them to drive us short distances, because we don’t want to waste our time or energy
walking. I’m realizing that walking is a
privilege, an opportunity to really get in touch with your surroundings and
nature. It’s also an opportunity for
great exercise! As age begins to win
over, walking becomes much more difficult.
We will eventually become immobile.
We must enjoy this privilege while we have it.
The weather here changes so fast.
Warm mornings have often been met with thunder and lightning storms in
the evening. We have been told to bring
our jackets with us even during the hot days because of the rapid change in
weather. I’ve enjoyed the drastic
changes. It’s much different than
Western Washington’s consistent rainy, cloudy, or sunny streaks. I’m really curious about this Mongolian
winter that has been underlined by almost everybody.
In one of the culture classes last week we learned that Mongolians
put a great emphasis on destiny. Everything that happens, whether it’s an
obstacle or joy, happens for a reason, they believe. Very rarely do Mongolians get stressed. I’ve witnessed no situations where Mongolians
get worked up over little things. It is
said Mongolians have two times: before
noon and after noon. This has frustrated
many Americans who come into Mongolian with a fast-paced,
get-things-done-on-time mindset. Many
PCVs have had to go through adaptations when their Mongolian counterparts showed
up hours late to business meetings. A
mindset of destiny versus a mindset of success/failure. A mindset of peace in the circumstance versus
a mindset of stress in the circumstance.
Maybe there’s something to be learned here.
We’re being fed like crazy here. If you’re not that hungry or
you get full quickly (like me), it’s best to eat your food slowly or you’ll
find your plate continuously being filled back up. Mongolian hospitality
is above and beyond that of other cultures I’ve experienced so far. When you’re in need of something, someone is
quick to help. Walking home from school
last week, I decided to practice a little Mongolian hospitality myself. A vehicle was stuck in a ditch, and the
driver couldn’t get out. I decided
(along with my friend Rose) to help the driver.
Two other Mongolians joined in and we pushed the vehicle out of the
ditch. I felt like an official
Mongolian!
One night I was awakened by a screaming voice about 2 am. My
host brother, Bapo, had a few friends over the day before, and I assumed they
stayed the night and the scream was coming from one of them. I created a
story in my head that Bapo’s friend had to use the jorslung in the middle of the night, and when he went out to use it
the dog started chasing him around (the family has two dogs on the property). Stray dogs are abundant here, and family dogs
are used for protection against strangers and other dogs. Us volunteers
received two sets of rabies shots due to the commonality of dog bites (and we
have one more coming!). Anyway, I
envisioned that Bapo’s friend was running from the dog and tried dodging him by
jumping into the well. Of course, that drop would have broken his
legs. I presumed the shriek was coming from the kid screaming for
help. Because of the story I created and believed, I wanted to tell
somebody. Everybody was asleep except
for me. I tried to ignore the screams, telling myself that the story was
my own creation. The scream had a
consistent pattern, several screams occurring for a few minutes, followed by a
break, then more screams, then another break, and so on up until morning.
I put a pillow over my head to try to get some sleep and dozed off several
times. When I woke up in the morning I realized it wasn’t a person at all.
Those screams were coming from the
rooster! I had every intention of throwing him down the poop hole. Thanks to a fellow volunteer who had earplugs,
I was provided with another option. I’ve
been using the earplugs ever since! Wow! How my mind wanders sometimes.
On Sunday evening my family took me out to the countryside. We jumped off sand dunes, took pictures of a giant
boulder with writings in the old Mongolian manuscript about Chiinghis Khan,
drank from a natural spring of mineral water, saw the Mongolian/Russian border,
drank sutatse and ate cheese in a ger, and was cleansed by a shaman. I also spent a night with my brother at a
disco, played soccer with Mongolian kids at the school field, milked a cow and
saw a goat butchering. It was an
eventful week. This weekend I will have
been here a month. That would tie the
longest I’ve been in any one country (besides America) without leaving. By mid-July I will have tied the longest I’ve
been out of America. This has been an
interesting stat to keep track of.
Thinking of everybody back home.
Love you all, and thanks so much for the thoughts, prayers and support!
No comments:
Post a Comment