NOMAD
TO NOTTING HILL
A lot of us think we are really brave and radical
to make a career change. I certainly did. However, those
of us that fall into this bracket may choose to eat
a slice of humble pie when they hear Enke’s story.....
I have travelled extensively
in Asia and lived in Nepal for 4 years, was this journey
going to be that much different?......
Oh Yes!
— Pauline Sanderson
the land with no
fences
I had been reading about the nomads of Mongolia. Despite
a 70 year Russian intervention between the 1920’s and
1990’s, they continue to live and love the nomadic traditions
that go back hundreds of years. Being a bit of a culture
vulture, and completely hooked on the outdoor life,
I decided to go and experience this ‘land without fences’
for myself. I wanted to be part of a migration, which
happens twice or four times a year depending on where
you live in Mongolia. I wanted to meet people that have
never been to the city and live from the land, each
other and their religion. I have travelled extensively
in Asia and lived in Nepal for 4 years, was this journey
going to be that much different? Oh Yes!
Good old Aeroflot, cheap cheerful and believe it or
not very reliable. I ended up having a bit of a banter
with a few young Mongolian police men who had good enough
English to make me laugh. It ended with Enke coming
and sitting next to me. He explained that he was living
in Notting Hill with his wife, he worked in a hotel
while studying for accountancy exams at the same time.
His 8 year old daughter was being looked after in Ulan
Battar by his wife’s parents. Family seems to be a much
more flexible institution. If a member of your family
is living with another part of the family, they are
at home, so his daughter was not considered to be short
changed because she was loved and looked after full
time by family. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t mum
and dad. The fact I have no children but I am married
and 39, was a bit outside his scope of understanding.
Why not? Who will look after you when you are old? Mate,
I don’t have a pension and I live for the day. The thought
of being 80 is as far removed from my planning as Mr
Bush is from reality.
Ulan Battar
I explained my Mongolian mission to experience nomadic
life. He casually mentioned that he had lived as a nomad
until he was 18 and would be happy to take me to visit
his old camps in the west. I hesitated ……..no I didn’t
, but I told my husband I did. We had met less than
one hour before our flight landed in Ulan Battar and
he had taken responsibility for me from the moment I
said yes. Getting through customs, carrying my bag,
everything. His family were there to meet him and they
didn’t batter an eye lid at his extra baggage and the
fact I took them completely out of their way to find
this cheap little hotel that I had ear marked from my
Lonely Planet Guide. As it was they took me to a nicer
place as he wanted to show his country off at a good
standard, so I paid more than I had budgeted for but
it was a good way to start a trip with a nice bathroom.
Only an hour after being dropped off I got a call to
say there was a family picnic and that he would be picking
me up in an hour. Great! His younger brother was the
‘chauffer’. He said nothing, drove well, didn’t smile
much but seemed to be ready and willing to drop anything
for any of us at any time. Then there were the 3 kids
including Enke’s daughter Onka. We tried to teach each
other our languages for the hour or so that we travelled
around various districts, collecting and dropping off
people and goods. Enke was very proud of his daughter
and was really encouraging her to speak English with
me as he believes that her future will depend on it.
Next was Mongolian detox special…. Fresh goats blood!
We passed the suburbs of Ulan Battar which were a stark
contrast to Russian heritage of the city centre. Out
here, stone buildings mixed with wooden shacks and felt
gers (nomadic tent made of felt). As we left the built
up areas behind us we moved into real Mongolia, wide
open spaces, no fences and lush pastures. We crossed
fields and rivers to end up at a small family homestay
where we were to meet the rest of Enke’s family for a welcome home party. The kids and
I jumped out of the jeep and ran straight to a small
enclosure where their aunt was clipping cashmere from
a goat. Then we raced to the river, skimmed stones,
played tig. We communicated in that international jargon
of body language which never fails.
After four years, love and marriage brought Pauline
back to the UK, where she worked with a team building
company in the Lake District.
Next was Mongolian detox special…. Fresh goats blood!
Big brother No. 2 got the knife with us all gathered
around, slit the goats neck, caught the blood in the
bowl and offered it around. I had a vegetarian moment.
The only way I like blood is in black pudding. I felt
less of a whimp when a couple of the others declined
too. Enke hated it but apparaently it does you good
so went for it. YUK! Stage 2 was the skinning and choping
of the goat which happened in the ger with a herder
who was there and looks after their homestay. They keep
this place to stay in touch with their roots I am sure
and Enke took great pride in explaining the traditions
and history of the process.
Enke's Family
he afternoon was spent, eating, and drinking traditional
Mongolian food and drink. They made a point of this.
The kids did lots of running races with us as the audience.
It felt like one big happy family. It was the total
harmony over three generations of this family that hit
home. The story of this family deserves its own story
as all of them have come from the far west and created
their own success stories. There are four brothers and
one sister. The sister still lives out in the west and
we were to meet her soon. What a wonderful introduction
to Mongolia. The modern Mongolian family who were still
proud to practice the traditions of their heritage.
Next day I entertained myself by trying to find my
way around Ulan Bataar where nobody speaks English,
and the street signs are not in Roman type but Mongolian
script????? Even with my Mongolian for idiots guide
it was tough. Felt very safe and had a great day. My
bus journeys were helped by friendly clippie conductors.
I pointed to the map, they pointed me in the right direction.
After finding a very nourishing German bakery, letting
Phil know I was in safe hands via one of several internet
sites I ended up going to an art gallery and saw Giselle
the ballet at a theatre not dissimilar to The Old Vic
in London. The dancing and the theatre were absolutely
stunning. What a treat. Hardly roughing it in Outer
Mongolia is it?
Next day I felt like a VIP as Enke and his brother
Jaga chauffeured us around in his even bigger 4 wheel
drive. We got our flight tickets booked and paid for.
Not cheap as a tourist. It cost me $300 and Enke was
$100. Logic seems fair to me, but at this point I wasn’t
quite sure exactly what or where we were off to experience
but I know my gut instinct has always served me well
in the past and this was to be no exception. We popped
in to see a friend of Jaga who happens to be the Head
of the National Assembly of Mongolia, I’m glad I was
wearing my best rucksack!
I bet not that many nomads need to go on a
fitness programme. But what was nomad life ? I would
soon find out
Enke went off for a party with some friends and Jaga
took charge as tour guide. He is an engineer and seemed
to have no trouble taking time off to be my host. We
went an hour or so out to Manzshirkhid monestry. This
was not completely destroyed by the Russians back in
the 20’s and is set in stunning scenery. We had a great
time as Jaga practiced his English which I am convinced
was 10 times better by the end of the day. He is such
a joker and I kept trying to imagine this city slicker
living nomad life. He would have been fit and healthy
and now he had trouble making the small hill up to the
monastry. I bet not that many nomads need to go on a
fitness programme. But what was nomad life ? I would
soon find out.
Next morning it was an early wake-up call for a pick-up
to an incredibly busy airport. Rumours of overbooking
and weather left us with the possibility of not flying.
Over booking comes as no surprise. It was only Enke’s
connections that got us on this flight at this notice.
Stay flexible in Asia and leave all the stress and deadlines
for back at your office and you wont go far wrong.
Our final destination was Bulgan, a four hour flight
west of Ulan Batar. Flying over Mongolia in a small
plane was a great way to really get a grip on the vast
and predominantly unpopulated landscape. Considering
its size ( 1566500 sq km ), there are only two and a
half million people living there. No wonder it is the
land without fences….
Bulgan
We finally flew into Bulgan after a couple of stop
offs. As you can imagine, it isn’t as much an airport
as a flat piece of land and a small office. Enke had
not been back for 10 years and I thought a lot may have
changed, but apparently not. He saw his sister Monke,
and I was surprised at the lack of hugs etc but I took
my western hat off and recognised that this is just
the way. They are not a huggy nation when they say hello
or goodbye, just an acknowledgement is enough. She had
her son Dalek who was 8 years old with her. She took
me in her stride and I wasn’t quite sure how to take
her so I held back on being pally pally just in case.
Of course she proved to be exceptional and so welcoming
and I couldn’t fault her hospitality. As we were waiting
for the jeep (great Russian number that seems to last
and go on for ever), a few people recognised Enke. He
was wearing pinstriped trousers, very smart shoes and
crisp white shirt and tank top. He was very much the
gentleman with a statement to make, ‘I have moved on
from here!!!’ One older gentleman came up and was talking
to Enke and staring at me. He apparently had not seen
a tourist before and was interested. I hope I lived
up to expectations.
He apparently had not seen
a tourist before and was interested. I hope I lived
up to expectations
Pauline Sanderson
We drove a short distance home to Monke’s flat. The
town was another throwback of Russia. Characterless
brick buildings but all functional with communal shack
toilets in the square (conveniently only 150m from our
place ). The flat was simple, clean and compact and
typical of all the others in the blocks. A living room
which turns into a bedroom at night, a kitchen area
but without the mod cons of running water or a cooker,
a bedroom and outside, a hand basin so you never get
less than a fresh feeling when you wash.
We ate drank and talked as Enke got into full flow about
his childhood. He seemed stimulated by being back here
and having somebody from his new world (England) to
see and experience the world he had come from. I was
a sponge and listened with fascination as he told stories
that I had been dying to hear but never knew if they
would come. His childhood was not as easy one as he
stayed with his grandparents lving in a ger, herding
the goats and living a classic but very lonely existence.
His father had become the secretary of the co-op and
ended up living in town with the rest of the family.
Enke ws needed on the land and lead a very typical life.
Up early and from that point the day consisted of making
or collecting food and herding the goats. He can’t remember
having a bath before the age of nine when he started
school. He loved school so much. It was in town but
still had to return to his grandparents during the holidays.
As I say, there is a book in his story and I presently
trying to get him to write one, so watch this space
for the adventures of a nomad.
Bulgan town is a throwback of a run down wild west
set. Horses and camels tied up to various poles and
trees with sand based dusty streets. I caught the local
butcher with his back of a truck shop. There was no
doubt you could get what joint you wanted as he cut
what appendage of the animal off there and then, ‘ is
that with or without the hoof madam?’ Lots of square
and bland clay coloured shops next to each other all
selling the same things. The population of this whole
area is 10 000. Not many but enough to keep everybody
ticking in business if you spread it around.
We visited several friends in gers and in flats in
the town and in every one we were greeted with tea and
various forms of food from biscuits to boiled mutton.
The odd vodka helped to keep the flow going.
Enke explained that in this area, the nomadic people,
moved four times a year. They always go to the same
places. He was about to take me to his old patch. It
was 10 miles out of town. It was an off road trip in
a jeep that we would pay for in the UK. Hang on and
enjoy the ride!
old ger camp
We spend so much
time chasing a materialistic dream, we can miss the
beauty and time to enjoy the biggest gift of all…time
to enjoy our natural environment and each other
Pauline Sanderson
It had been 10 years since Enke had visited his old
ger camp. There were 4 gers and one brick building with
4 families. As we arrived we were met and ushered in
for the traditional tea, cheese and bread again. The
men handes around the snuff and they all made poite
conversation without any of the ‘’wow how the hell are
you ?!!’ kind of feeling. However as time went on the
banter grew and grew. Enke was really keen to explain
to me how far he had come from here and was apologetic
for the basic level of life. I had to explain that he
didn’t have to apologise for anything. I have respect
and admiration for the way of life they continue to
live. There is an envy in the west for the simple life
without the trappings of modern life. We spend so much
time chasing a materialistic dream, we can miss the
beauty and time to enjoy the biggest gift of all…time
to enjoy our natural environment and each other.
We all went outside and I became the entertainment
as I attempted to ride one of their horses. Small but
powerful beasts. I rode off from the main camp and couldn’t
flaunt my riding skills as my 4 legged friend had a
language problem with me. My audience however, were
very entertained and Imagay (lovely 16 year old herder)
gave me some great tips ‘choo choo’ and a good slap.
Bingo, off I went, not the stylish laid back style of
Mongolian herdsmen but it worked.
Enke went off to visit some ill friends and I was left
to body language for my communication tool. We had a
great time! Imagay and I went off on horses and herded
up the goats from across the river. I was in heaven
in the land with no fences. I was in the dream I had
come to experience, with nomads, on horseback herding
goats in a vast landscape with no fences. We had a really
good time as we laughed at my attempts to copy his style
and language for herding. As we came triumphantly back
to base, with all the goats, I got involved with the
next stage….milking.
Grandma took me under her wing. They tie the goats
in long lines and get two lines to face each other and
tie them in a lockheads position. Thing of a rugby scrum
for goats! Then grand ma got her first goatand talked
to me in fluent Mongolian about how to squeeze the teet
to the very end. I explained in fluent English that
I wasn’t quite getting it and could she give me a few
more tips. We didn’t understand and word each other
said but somehow we totally understood what we meant
and I got it! A down goats later I had a decent amount
of milk. A proud moment. We had us three women milking
and the men were laughing and joking with us all the
time. It was a surreal experience to feel like I fitted
in so well to a lifestyle thousands of miles and cultures
away from my home in the Lakes. I felt incredibly comfortable
and so happy to be there.
Next it was time to release the baby goats to get the
leftovers. It was mob control…youth of today.?!
I had brought a Polaroid camera so I could give people
photos there and then. I took a picture of Patamesurum
and her little boy. She loved it and soon it was a line
up. I didn’t have enough film and so I ended up shooting
nearly a whole film of them all and have sent them to
Monke to give them. It was great fun taking photos and
I was able to see them in their entertaining mode. Great
characters, enjoying each other and the moment. Patamesurum
and I bonded over more tea and then Imagay taught me
to dance Mongolian style (waltz with a funny bit in the
middle). The time seemed appropriate to dress me up
in her traditional dress to look the part. I felt like
we were playing at dressing up and being adults, great
fun. Then Imagay got together with his mate and demonstrated
some Mongolian wrestling and of course won. I was suitably
impressed and if ever I had a daughter and Imagay was
the boy she brought home, I would be very happy. He
was polite, great fun and a real gentleman. Patamesurum
was enjoying having somebody new around and they made
my stay there a complete and inspirational experience.
Imagay and I went out for another ride to enjoy the
sunset and freedom. Enke returned in time for us to
take time to have tea/ vodka with the older couple of
the camp who watched him grow up. He translated for
me and he related some of their memories of him with
pride. Maybe he was remembering the good parts of his
nomad life now?
We said our goodbyes and I left feeling the luckiest
person in the world
Pauline Sanderson
We said our goodbyes and I left feeling the luckiest
person in the world. I really want to come back and
do the migration with them one day. It takes about 4
days June. They can take down a ger in about 40 minutes.
It takes me that much time to pack to go away for a
weekend! I went to sleep dreaming of the land with no
fences.
My experience in the west continued to inspire me as
we went looking for and found Kazak eagle hunters, went
on a major off road experience to get to Khovd. However
that is for another story. This is about Enke and his
transition from nomad to Notting Hill. What a transition!
He gave me first hand insight into a special world and
I would like to thank him and his family for looking
after me from the moment I arrived to the moment I left…literally!
I was their first guest but I hope I am not their last.
When Enke finishes studying in London for his accountancy
exams, he will be back in Mongolia. He may even start
his own travel company now he knows how enthralled foreigners
are by his old world.
