I’ve been called lots of names...

Over the years I’ve been called lots of things, most of them nice.
• During my awkward adolescent years, my older brother and sister called me “Bobbles” because I often dropped things.
• As a high schooler and college student I was sometimes called, “A nice, young man.”
• As a wildfire camp manager, I wore a mesh safari hat and people called me “Jungle Jim” referring to a 1950 TV African safari hunter.
• One of my unique titles at large fire camps was “Porta-Potty Prince” as I managed sanitation contracts for thousands of fire fighters.
• Referring to our move to Mongolia and my face, a recent retiree referred to me as a “Don Quixote” look-alike.

But last week I was called something new.
Here in Mongolia, we occasionally shop at a Christian business that sells slippers, cards and leather goods made by poor Mongolian women. The manager told me that the clerks at Mary & Martha Ministries refer to me as:
• “The man with the shining head.”

“I don’t know that I have ever seen a bald Mongolian man, so the top of my head is rather noticeable in Mongolia. This “title” reminds me of Exodus 34:28-30:

“Moses was there with the LORD forty days and forty nights without eating bread or drinking water. And he wrote on the tablets the words of the covenant—the Ten Commandments. When Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets of the Testimony in his hands, he was not aware that his face was radiant because he had spoken with the LORD. When Aaron and all the Israelites saw Moses, his face was radiant”

I hope my “shining head” reminds people of God.

I just wanted to drop off our ballots

Last week we received our US voting ballots. The ballot said we could take our ballots to the US embassy and they would send them to the states fast and free! Great.

We learned from another US missionary that the US embassy in Mongolia would only accept ballot on Mondays and Thursdays from 1:30-3:30pm. So we rerouted out walk home from school on Thursday so we would walk past the embassy and drop off our ballots. Sounds simple, right?

As we walked along the frozen river beside the embassy in a wind chill of 8 degrees F., Liz suggested that we take a pretty photo of us in front of the frozen river with the snowy hillsides in the background. That’s a good idea. So we took the photo.

Then we walked up to the embassy to turn in our ballots. As we approached, a uniformed Mongolian officer came to us from the parking lot guard station. I said warmly, “Sain bainuu (Are you feeling well?), can we drop off our ballots?” He replied, “You take picture?” I thought he was asking if we wanted our photo taken as part of registering as a US citizen in Mongolia. I said, “We are registered but we have not had our photo taken.” He said, “You take picture?” At this point, Liz caught on that he was not asking if we wanted to have our pictures taken. He had been sent out from the guard station to confiscate our camera because he thought we had taken photos of the US embassy. The security cameras around the embassy had seen us take photos. Our camera was pointed the opposite direction from the embassy but, I guess, they didn’t notice that.

Liz explained, “We took some photos of the river. Would you like to see them?” He said, “Follow me,” and he “escorted” us into the security station. Simple minded me, approached another guard who was sitting behind bullet-proof glass. I asked him if I could drop off our ballots? He said, “Passport please.”

In four months in Mongolia, I have never carried my passport. It is locked up securely in a safe. We did not have our passports. We did not have a copy of our passports. I had no identification at all (except my ballot). Liz had her JCS identification card, her voter registration card, her Covenant World Missions identification card and a copy of her Mongolian visa. (Aren’t wives wonderful? I carry the money but she carries the important papers.) Liz showed the two photos to the parking lot guard.

The guard told us that we must wait to speak to a “counselor.” But first we had to pass thru a metal detector. Liz and I were dressed for sub-freezing weather with lots of zippers, buckles and snaps in addition to our day packs. We both triggered the metal detectors and the inspector used the wand on both of us. (I just wanted to drop off our ballots.) My cell phone, keys, apartment burglar alarm remote control and my multitool/pocket knife triggered the wand. The inspector confiscated my multitool/pocket knife. We were escorted into a waiting room while 3 guards watched us from outside. As we took off some of our layers of winter clothing, a guard came to the door to tell Liz that she dropped her hat on the floor. We were being watched carefully!

After 5 minutes, they came to the door and asked for Liz. I gave her the ballots and told her to “remember me” if she never saw me again. I have no identification. (I just wanted to drop off our ballots.) In the inspection room, she was handed a Visitors badge that clipped to her sweater. She was escorted out of the inspection room into a different room where another Mongolian guard stood behind bullet proof glass. Liz spoke thru a metal circle in the glass and asked, “Can I drop off our ballots?” The guard said, “Yes.” She slipped the ballots under the glass and was escorted back to the inspection room.

A guard came and got me. I was free to join my wife and leave! He handed me my multitool/pocketknife and we walked back thru the metal detector and out of the inspection room. As we walked past the parking lot guard station, we thanked the officer for his “assistance.” They have all been very polite. It’s nice to be outside in the freezing wind again.

The “Countryside” and the Capitol:

Within Mongolia, there are two major geographic designations; the countryside and the capitol. Everywhere outside the capitol is commonly referred to as "the countryside."

Like many third-world countries, Mongolia has one major city, Ulaanbaatar. This city contains more than 40% of the whole population of Mongolia. Most of the money, power, resources and opportunities are in Ulaanbaatar.

This picture is an overview of downtown taken from the top of the hill near our apartment. The challenges here are many; jobs, poverty, hunger, pollution, substandard housing, crime, sanitation, education and spiritual hunger.

This picture is a common view in the countryside from a hilltop about 30 miles from Ulaanbaatar. The challenges here are many; jobs, poverty, hunger, pollution, substandard housing, crime, sanitation, education and spiritual hunger.

Where do you begin? In Ulaanbaatar you can serve more people. But the people are moving to the Ulaanbaatar because there are so few resources in the countryside.

We are in Ulaanbaatar now, so this is where we serve now.

Writing Mongolian

One of the many challenges in Mongolia is writing. Many Mongolians can write their language in 4 different forms.

• Traditional Mongolian is written vertically. This beautiful script is like Arabic. This photo shows Liz learning to write traditional Mongolian.

• However, during the Communist era (1920-1990) the Russians insisted that the Mongolians use Cyrillic (the Russian alphabet + 6 letters) to facilitate publishing. The Mongolians learned to spell Mongolian phonetically using Russian letters. After 1990, there was a Mongolian patriotic movement to return to the traditional Mongolian script. But many people complained that it was inefficient publishing in this format and many young people had never used traditional Mongolian script.

The second word is cursive Mongolian Cyrillic. Like English, some cursive letters don’t look like printed letters. For example, the printed letter T is written in cursive as an M.

. The third word is Mongolian Cyrillic printing.

• Many people in Mongolia have cell phones. All the cell phones use the English alphabet. Therefore, Mongolians send text messages using English letters to phonetically spell Mongolian words.

This photo is an example of Traditional Mongolian script, Cyrillic Mongolian cursive, Cyrillic Mongolian print and “English” Mongolian. All four words spell “Telephone.” It is pronounced, "Oo Tas."

Mongolian meat "department"

This photo shows the meat "department” in an Ulaanbaatar grocery store. Signs hang from the ceiling indicating the area for Chicken, Beef, Mutton and Goat. All parts of each type of animal are on display on the counters including heads, tongues, kidneys, lungs, etc. Nothing is refrigerated. Nothing is labeled.

There are piles of animal parts here that I have never seen before. Sometimes they are blue (sheep kidneys). Sometimes they look more like the soles of shoes than meat (cow tongue).

The heat and smell given off by this fresh meat fills the room. We have learned to look straight ahead as we wall thru this section of the store.

Liz says, “In America, you can buy a package of meat and have no idea what animal or what part of the animal it came from. Not in Mongolia. You know what you are eating.”

One friend told of climbing on a van traveling between cities in the countryside. In the seat next to him was the “drumstick” of a camel. Now that’s a big drumstick.

"Building" a traditional Mongolian home

Mongolians are traditionally nomads, moving 4 or 5 times a year to find good grazing for their animals. They have developed an amazing home they call a “ger” (rhymes with bear).

Most gers have either 5 sections of lattice walls, for a small family, or 8 sections of lattice walls for a larger family. If the family gets too big for the ger, they purchase another ger and have two.
A family of 2 parents and 2 children can usually take down the ger, load it on yak carts and be moving in two hours.

The ger has one door and one window in the peak of the roof. The door always faces south and an insulating layer of felt rests between the wooden ceiling poles and a canvas, waterproof cover. The ger is well insulated and heated by a dung, wood or coal stove in the center of the single room. Furniture is positioned around the perimeter and the ground is covered with mats and/or carpets.

Liz & I stayed in a ger in northern Mongolia in 2005. So did Pastor Randy and Drew Stevick. Ask them about it!

"Red & Yellow, Black & White?"

At one of our language classes we described (in Mongolian) a photo of three children. One child was White, one Black and one was a Mongolian.

Our teacher corrected us. In Mongolian opinion, the three children were Yellow, Brown and White. The Mongolian was White. The Caucasian was Yellow.
In all my years singing "Jesus loves the little children..," I always assumed that I was in the "White" group. Not in Mongolia. In Mongolia, Caucasians are Yellow!

In the photo are Liz, Tuya our Mongolian teacher (the White one), and Kemba from Los Angeles.

Well dressed men in Mongolia

Mongolia, like many cultures, has many choices. Recently we spent an hour at Sukhbaatar Square talking to people. The Square is similar to the Capitol Mall in Washington, D.C. It is a large open park surrounded by government buildings. I think that every Mongolian comes to the Square at least once in their lifetime to have their picture taken.

I took several photos of older men, included men dressed in:

• Traditional robes (dels) with derby hats and boots with curled up toes,






• Pin-striped suits and wingtip shoes, and











• Sweat pants, baseball hats and running shoes.





Such is the nature of many lives in Mongolia. You can choose to keep the old traditions while welcoming new ideas. This is a wonderful time to introduce new ideas in Mongolia.

Monday: Fall, Tuesday: Winter!

A few white flecks danced on the cold as we walked to school on Monday. Snow or dust? Tuesday morning there was no doubt about it, a blowing storm covered cars and roof tops with an inch of snow. We have dug out our scarves, gloves, and hats. Such weather at this time of year is no surprise to Mongolians. They take it in stride and we all marvel at the beauty.

Starbucks Mongolian Style

Airag gers are on corners all over Ulaanbaatar this time of year. Go on in, have a seat on a foot hi wooden stool and sip on the sour taste of an 'eyeyuk' cup of fermented mare's milk, 'ayeruk'.

Toe Dust

What is the first thing you do after you get to school?
Hang up your coat? Sharpen your pencil? Say ‘hi’ to your pals?
The first thing we do is answer our teacher’s greeting. She usually asks,
“saikin hommer snow?” to which we answer, “Saikin, saikin hommer snow?”
How did you sleep? Peacefully, how did you sleep?
Then we take off our shoes. Clean shoes and clean floors are a big deal in Mongolia.
We heard recently that a woman’s testimony in church was compromised because her shoes were dusty. Our friend who told the story equated it to Americans wearing a baseball hat in church. Here, most apartments and even churches have a rag sitting by the door for using to wipe off your shoes. I was waiting at a photo development store this week next to 3 teens doing the same. I noticed one teen hand another a tissue. It caught my attention because tissues are not usually used for noses (another story). The second girl immediately bent over and wiped off the toes of her shoes. Should’ve known.