Mercy Corps and the Mongol Derby

I had previously contacted the NGO (Non Governmental Organisation) Mercy Corps, an international organisation who operate in many developing countries around the world, providing funds and assistance for projects which aid development, to see if there were any projects or events that I could be involved with. I was in luck and the Mongol Derby, the world's longest horse race which emulates Chinggis Khan's communications network and also raises funds for development projects would be happening at the end of my time in Mongolia. I was to be involved with two parts; firstly a visit with some of the Mongol Derby riders to a cooperative in a town a short distance away from Ulaanbaatar to witness the work that Mercy Corps do, and secondly the start of the race, which photographically I was most looking forward to. Unfortunately, due to my visa issues, train issues and other commitments, I was unable to attend the start of the race.

A woman in the workshop.

The morning after I returned from the trip out west I walked to the Mercy Corps office in Ulaanbaatar to catch my ride. We sluggishly crawled through the rush hour traffic, collecting the riders who were staying in a number of hotels in the city. All were very excited to be about to commence on such an adventure, they would be riding 1000km in 10 days through pristine wilderness, and they also had the added exhilaration of meeting new people in a new and exciting place. The minibus was filled with chatter for the journey, particular by the American riders who's enthusiasm for conversation seems to know no bounds.

Everyone except myself seemed to find the ride extremely bumpy, my trip out west had taught me the luxury of paved roads, even if there was the odd pothole. We headed to a small town called Zuunmod Soum, about an hour out of UB. It was a quiet place with children playing in backstreets, and what looked like derelict factories with jagged dark windows on the edges of the settlement. We went into a small and bright, single storey building which was the workshop, known as the Zuluun Suvd Cooperative. It's a small female managed enterprise involved in the production and sale of felt handicraft, and the coop employs people with a disability. Providing disabled access was one of the things that Mercy Corps had previously done. With the help of Mercy Corps the aim was to double the capacity for production and increase sales to meet rising market demand. Money raised by previous Mongol Derbys helped to purchase new processing equipment which would increase production capacity.

The riders are shown the crafts produced in the coop.

A woman prepares animal hairs for making felt.

Working on a loom type machine.

The different fabrics they make.

Everyone seemed to enjoy their job.

The coop felt a very social place.

Making adjustments to a bottle disguised as a camel for one of the riders.

The riders showed curiosity in the production process, some getting involved directly by sitting at the spinning wheel or having a go at brushing the hair which would become the felt. Lunch was offered, mutton and potatoes, and a milk drink was put in front of me. I assumed it was the milk tea I had grown half fond of, but unfortunately for me and my tastebuds it was airag, the fermented mares milk, which I didn't realise until after a gulp. I quietly left my cup on the side.

An American rider getting involved.

Eric, another American rider, attempts to spin some thread.

Mr Ganzorig at work.

I spoke to one gentleman, Mr Ganzorig, through Byambaa my contact from Mercy Corps who acted as my translator. He was quietly sat in a wheelchair weaving a fabric with knitting needles, and it looked like he was making a shawl of some description. Mr Ganzorig had been in a wheelchair all his life. Before the cooperative opened he just stayed at home, as there was no work he could do. There don't seem to be disability rights in Mongolia and disabled access is an extreme rarity. He has worked in the coop since it started, thanks in part to the disabled access provided by Mercy Corps. Before starting he was given training in the crafts and felt products he would be producing, and he told me he is very happy now that he has work, and enjoys his job very much. Without the assistance of NGOs like Mercy Corps, and the finances raised through events such as the Mongol Derby, people like Mr Ganzorig would have no chance of employment in their lives, no opportunities to find a trade and to become more much independent and happy.

Many of the riders bought themselves a souvenir and gifts for loved ones back home, before we were taken to the nearby Manzushir  monastery which had been victim to the Soviets in the early part of the twentieth century, only one building remained. The monastery was fairly interesting, but information is always limited, and so myself and a couple of the other riders climbed the steep hill at the back of the valley which the buildings and ruins are nestled in, for a work-out and a rewarding view. After a rest in the lovely surroundings of the valley floor, we made our way back to UB through crawling and horn-bawling traffic.

Mr Ganzorig's hands at work.

Some of the craft items produced in the coop.

The clothes and fabrics they made. 

The entrance to the monastery.

Ruined by the Russians.

The monastery was nestled in the back of a beautiful valley. 

A Swedish rider enjoys the freedom of the Mongolian countryside.

Helping disabled children in rural Mongolia

Recently, for those who follow this blog, you will have read about my trip through the south and west of Mongolia's stunning and wild countryside. The reason for this exciting journey was for me to document the work carried out by a number of physical and occupational therapists; Ben and Casey from Australia who are in Mongolia for a year on the AYAD programme (Australian Youth Ambassadors for Development), and Unuru and Zaya, two Mongolian therapists trained in Ulaanbaatar and who work alongside Ben in Kindergarten #10 in UB. We were also accompanied by a woman named Badmaa who worked as our translator, and Baterdene the driver, who was nicknamed Derek due to my initial difficulty in both remembering and pronouncing his name.

The idea for the trip was spawned from Ben, who realised that children with disabilities in Ulaanbaatar receive relatively good treatment, with a number of agencies operating offering occupational and physical therapy, as well as other treatments. However the children outside of the capital, and where the majority of disabled children live, have access to fairly low standards of treatments, as there are few trained staff and little funding available - and so it was planned to visit the countryside to offer some level of advice and assistance. 

The APDC were approached, as they have a presence in the majority of Mongolia's aimags (administrative regions) and were the ideal partner agency for running and organising a project like this. They knew the children in these regions, they mostly had a centre they operated from and would be able to inform families that the therapists from UB were visiting and so to bring their children along for assessment and advice.

The trip was predominantly funded by a number of mining companies who operate within Mongolia, as huge mineral deposits have been discovered in the country in the last decade and with more productive exploration still ongoing, Mongolia is set to be transformed due to the wealth locked under it's hills. Hopefully the financial reward of such natural assets will be felt by the people, and also used by the government to improve the desperately lacking infrastructure, rather than just lining the pockets of politicians and foreign corporations. Ben and Casey however approached the mining companies who have a presence in the different aimags that they planned to hold their clinics and workshops in, and found funding for the trip as nearly all companies of this kind have money set aside for social and community projects - a mixture of philanthropy and public relations. 

In fact, this was the last, but biggest, of three trips the group were to be taking, and I was only joining for this one final journey. Previously they had been to other parts of Mongolia; Dornod in the east and the Gobi in the south, running the same programme that I would be witnessing in the west. 

In each of the five different towns I visited with the group; Bayankhongor, Altai, Uliastai, Khovd and Olgii, the format for the event was the same. Two days would be spent operating from a centre in each town, with one half day session dedicated to a training presentation, where different disabilities such as Cerebral Palsy and Downs Syndrome were explained to parents, as well as information on the stages of child development, and the signs to indicate that a child's progress is not as it should be, possibly highlighting a disability. Parents took notes and were able to ask questions, and most sat their studying hard as if they were back in college, if they had ever been. One thing that did strike me during these sessions were the attitudes to mobile phones. If one rang at home in this situation the owner would usually be embarrassed and apologetic for interrupting - not in Mongolia, they mostly answer it and have a conversation without discretion. These sessions seemed to be successful, they were well attended, parents were very attentive aside from the odd phone call, in some cases what seemed to be productive discussions erupted, though I'll admit I didn't have a clue what they were talking about, and the therapists themselves seemed to be very happy with how it all went. 

Badmaa translates Ben's presentation

Ben talks to parents.

A full and attentive classroom.

Casey talks about child development.

Parents listen to the talks.

The remaining three quarters of the time was spent running clinics. Parents would bring their children to these sessions, to seek one on one advice, they could ask questions, and after an assessment by the therapists they were shown exercises and methods of helping their children, to improve their mobility and cognitive skills. Families would have around 45 minutes each and in most cases went away happy as they had been shown new ideas, exercises and treatments which would help their children in one way or another. Sometimes children were brought to the clinics who suffered from problems in which the therapists were not trained, and so the parents were given telephone numbers or names of people to contact in other agencies who may be able to help their children, rather than turn them away empty handed. 

Some families who lived in more remote and rural areas had travelled a long way to attend the clinics, such was the need and desire to help their children. In some cases young children were brought along by their older siblings, but they themselves were no older than 10 years old. The hardships that many of these families struggle through; the difficulties in raising children often with severe disabilities, without proper education, resources or the finances for doing so; often their only resource was love - struck me on the first session of the clinics in Bayankhongor, and I felt slightly emotional. I had to take 5 seconds to draw a breath and not let their unfortunate plight get the better of my sensitivities. They got on with things, and so would I. 

The majority of the children visiting the clinics seemed to have been diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy (CP), which is a condition that generally affects movement and motor control, caused by some degree of brain damage. The symptoms can vary from minor to severe, some children appeared to have some difficulty in walking correctly or performing certain physical tasks, other children appeared to be completely debilitated and dependent on their parents for 24 hour care. In each case the children were assessed, and then various exercises which would help them gain more muscle control were shown to the parents, which they were encouraged to do with their children on a daily basis if they wanted to improve their child's mobility and quality of life. 

Children with a whole range of different disabilities came through the clinics. Some had birth defects that would really require corrective surgery for them to make the progress which they were capable of. Others suffered from conditions that had escalated because minor problems had not been intervened with and corrected at an earlier age, and now for some of them the damage was done and could not be reversed. These were problems that would be diagnosed and treated at an early age in the West, so as they grew the problems would wane and they would be able to live normal lives. Due to the lack of provision of quality healthcare in rural Mongolia, these relatively simple problems had gone unchecked and created disabled young adults when it needn't have been the case. Some children showed symptons of conditions caused by malnutrition such as Rickets, a vitamin D deficiency, or other problems caused during pregnancy or childbirth, which just don't occur at home thanks to the level of care.

I learnt an awful lot from this trip and experience, that's difficult to list in it's entirety. I learnt about the fantastic work that various agencies, such as the APDC do in Mongolia. I learnt about the challenges facing families in rural areas, especially those with disabled children. I gained a new understanding of a range of conditions and how they affect people individually. I was offered an insight into life in western Mongolia, the culture, the politics, the people and it was an experience I shall carry with me for the rest of my life. 

My time on the trip was spent documenting in photographs the work that was going on, as well as making a short documentary film, which you can view here. This was the first time I had ever attempted to produce anything of this kind, so it was a learning curve in using the camera which I had never really filmed with before (it's new), in using the software and in undertaking a project of this kind. I'll leave you with a collection of photographs from the trip. 

Early intervention is incredibly important for children with Cerebral Palsy.

A boy with difficulties walking is encouraged to stand on his own two feet.

A father brings his daughter to the clinic, but the therapists are unable to treat a cleft lip.

A sister brings he younger brother to the clinic. 

A child born with deformity of the foot requires corrective surgery to help them walk.  

This baby was the most expressive and smiley we encountered, like a Cow&Gate advert.

Ben examines a boy who doesn't walk correctly. 

All smiles now.

A child with Vitamin D deficiency or Rickets, a bending of the bones caused by malnutrition. 

Ben examines a brain scan of a child who suffered a stroke. 

This sweet girl was very curious about the camera. 

Magda, a Dutch nurse working out in Altai with a Christian programme. 

A father and daughter in Altai.

A boy is assessed for his mobility.  

A baby with Downs Syndrome is entertained whilst an examination can take place. 

Zaya and a baby boy.

Waiting to be seen. 

Zaya examines a teenage boy with difficulty walking.

Casey encouraging a girl to take up activities such as colouring which would helo her development.

Encouraging children to perform tasks on their own.

Zolbo the speech therapist at work. 

Olgii: The end of the road

We were delayed leaving Khovd by the police arresting our driver and impounding his vehicle. We had hoped to be on the road for the final leg of our journey by 9am, but the events of the night before put a certain spanner in the works. Earlier that evening we sweated up the steps to the top of the big hill that overlooks the  town, and cracked open a beer at sunset. The mosquitos were killer so we didn't stay too long. My legs now have more bites than an ambitious American at an all-you-can-eat buffet. We were then taken to a bar that had a bit of a disco, playing a mixture of Western and Russian pop and dance. Our hosts whipped out the vodka as is customary and we did our best to impress them with our drinking. We danced to the badly DJ'd music, the DJ felt it necessary to practice his scratching, and he needed practice, as it was like a teenager with an attention disorder. I ended up being challenged to a dance off by a seemingly territorial Mongolian lad. Little did he know that I have never really lost a challenge such as this, and combined with my vodka confidence I did my best to rise to the occasion and put him in his place. There's two ways of winning a dance off. Either dance superiorly if you know you're a better dancer; or if you're in danger of being outshone, take the piss with your moves and entertain the crowd that way. It's fairly fail-safe. I'm arrogantly sure I won with the former. When we went to leave, our driver and van were nowhere to be found.

Mongolia's Most Wanted - Derek (Baterdene)

We somehow found out that he (Baterdene/Derek) had been arrested, though the details for me are a little hazy due to being a little drunk. I'm still not sure if Derek had been nicked for having drunk half a beer, as it's a zero tolerance policy, or the other story I was told was he reversed his vehicle without his lights on, so the cops took the opportunity to exercise some authority. I guess they don't have too much to do in a town like this. We ended up at the police station where our Mongolians started negotiating. I had to frustratingly stand back as I could be of no help, just a hindrance in this situation. I would've loved this situation back home and felt confident I would have helped resolve things; my six years as a press photographer and dealing with the police on an almost daily basis has taught me how to talk to them and usually get the outcome you want. I don't know how or why but we found ourselves in some random Mongolian apartment. They rustled up a 2am vegetable and mutton soup as there's a lack of kebab shops in Khovd, and I drank some milk tea with butter in it which surprisingly hit the spot, and then I passed out for an hour or two on the floor of their living room, dozing next to their perplexed daughter. When I woke up in a bit of a daze it seemed Derek had been freed, but we would have to wait until the morning for the vehicle, so we stumbled through the backstreets back to the children's centre where we were staying. The following morning Derek went to collect his vehicle, but he had a long wait as the officer responsible for that bit of paperwork didn't come on duty until the afternoon, and of course none of the other cops were apparently capable of signing the form, efficient as Mongolia is. We were on the road by 3pm with a good six hour drive ahead of us, so we would not be arriving in Olgii until sundown.

Group photo as we were leaving Khovd.

The sandy road out of Khovd and into the mountains.

The drive took us past mountains and through valleys, where we had to drive through a number of small rivers and streams that cut through the rocky road. We saw glaciers, and I'm not sure if I've ever seen one before, certainly not discernibly like they are in summer months, when the rest of the snow has melted. The mountains looked like a giant Christmas pudding and the glacier was cream running down it in white oozing fingers. Perhaps I was just starting to have food fantasies after living with a rural Mongolian menu for a fortnight. We beeped herds of camels out of our way, and passed a couple of vehicles taking part in the Mongol Rally, who left London a few weeks ago. It was mildly exciting to see a Fiat Punto with a UK registration plate bouncing it's way along the trail, kicking up a plume of dust like a comet.

The glacier which reminded me of a Christmas pudding.

Meandering through valleys.

Wrinkly hillsides.

We pulled up at dusk in Olgii, a town where the eagles shriek and circle overhead. We made our way to the children's centre where again we would be working and staying in, and it was the last building on the edge of town. The construction of it wasn't finished. It had no running water and the electricity was limited. The toilet was a long drop, you walked a precarious plank over an 8 foot pit of festering shit, and when you balanced to do your business, the mosquitos bit your arse. We went for dinner in a Turkish restaurant which I enjoyed immensely, they served chicken cooked on skewers over charcoal, which tasted delicious after all the previous offerings.

A ger out the back of the centre lit my moonlight.

A long exposure looking out of town - a car's headlights streak by.

The following evening I had been looking forward to returning to the Turkish place for more chicken, but instead we were invited to our hosts home for a feast. Our hosts were Mongolian Kazakhs, there are many different ethnic groups in Mongolia and the people in Olgii look a lot different to elsewhere I had been, the Kazakh genes were prominent here. One of the girls who came to the clinic had blonde-ish hair, and many people were fairer skinned with bright, piercing eyes. Our hosts laid on a huge and delicious spread. We were given a starter of salads, coleslaws, home made bread and fruits, along with curds which I am less keen on. The main course was a bowl of very tender and quite tasty mutton, accompanied by this doughy twist thing stuffed with onion which was really delicious, followed by a vegetable soup to finish. Finally they served up some airag, the fermented mares milk, and this one was the most rancid one I have tried. I had a few sips but I just couldn't stomach it. It's so fizzy and sour, it's a bit like mixing lemonade with a very strong, gone-off milk, the kind you find in the fridge when returning from a three week holiday. Or the kind you find if you're just a student. We watched a bit of the Olympics on their tv, one of the Mongolian hopefuls was taking part in the Judo, but sadly for my Mongolian friends he was defeated. The evening was really enjoyable and it was interesting to see their home which the dad built himself, and hear of some of the Kazakh customs and look through their family photo albums which were proudly brought out.

The man who kept the eagles, with his son.

The following evening we went again to a hill overlooking the town. This is a common theme here, I guess there's not that much to do and perhaps they like to look at their cities, they are a fairly new phenomenon in a traditionally nomadic society. We were then taken to a place with some Kazakh gers, which differ slightly to the Mongolian ones - they are slightly bigger and much more decorative inside. They had the skins of wolves and a snow leopard hanging from the walls, which were interesting yet sad to see, especially as the snow leopard is pretty endangered, but maybe these skins were generations old, I'm not to know. We met a man who we were told was the governor of the district, but he was wearing a tracksuit and had a bottle of vodka stuffed in his pocket - so maybe he was. He put on a traditional Kazakh costume and posed for photos, before scuttling off with his booze, apparently he was hosting a wedding at his house next door. We then went to a friend of our hosts who kept eagles, which I think he used for hunting, as is the tradition in this part of Mongolia. We each had a go with them on our arm, they were big birds with powerful looking legs and sat heavy on our outstretched limbs. The eagle I held had a few of it's talons missing, apparently from a fight with a fox. Due to it's lack of grip, and me dropping my arm to unbalance the bird to make it's wings outstretch for a better photo, it fell off into the dust twice but it didn't seem to get too pissed off. When you're done with an eagle, just chuck it on the ground, that's my motto. We finished the night with dinner in a Kazakh restaurant with a pleasant meal and watching some of the Olympics, again more judo. My head kept getting turned by a table of pretty young Kazakh women, who looked nothing like the women in Borat. Wah wah wee wah - it's a very nice!

Ogling Olgii.

Curious boys.

Derek, the Guv'nor and myself inside the Kazakh ger.

Olgii massiv. Note the wolfskin hanging up on the left, it's a fox on the right, and jokers in the middle.

Badma, our translator and really good company handles an eagle.

Me and my disabled bird.

The Saturday we packed up our things and went to the airport, we sat around and waited with in a busy waiting area, complete with 25 young Koreans who looked like they had been on a climbing expedition, and amusingly they were all in matching clothes with bright yellow jackets, and even all had the same boots on and bags with the logo Colon Sport, which is an entirely different type of rugged pursuit altogether. Eventually we were told our plane would not be coming today. Apparently the slight cloud constituted bad weather, just as infuriating as our 'leaves on the line' excuse, so we headed back to the centre before taking a final meal in the Turkish restaurant, so I could eat chicken and rinse the wifi. We spent an hour or two looking in Olgii's shops. A few clothes and shoe shops, which were more amusing than tempting me to buy anything. On the walk back to where we were staying I popped into a shop with Ben to buy a Sprite. The chap behind the counter gestured something to us, and we worked out he wanted to show us something out the back. If this happened back home you'd probably think they were insane and run a mile, but we followed him out through his back yard and to a shed, where he produced a small bird of prey that screamed like a teenage girl. He grinned from ear to ear as he showed us his bird, and gestured if we wanted to hold it. He only had a freezer glove for protection, so I declined the offer fearing for my delicate hands, preferring slightly sturdier protection between my soft skin and the talons of death. We said our goodbyes once it started to become weird, and I spent the evening watching episodes of the Sopranos on my laptop and we had dinner in a different Kazakh restaurant. The following day we went to the airport, and after waiting about four hours, the plane decided to show up, and we turbulently made our way back to Ulaanbaatar.

The chuffed shopkeeper with his bird of prey.

Lads on tour: Olgii 2012. Ben Gwilliam, Baterdene 'Derek' the driver, and some other guy.

 I never got lucky with the stars, the one clear night was a bright full moon and the mosquitos were a plague 

The team, minus Casey, who had to leave a day early to attend a wedding. 

Blue dawn, I got up early for a piss and this was the view.

Finally catching our flight.

One other thing. I'd started to become annoyed by white people whilst on this trip. At first when we passed them in rural locations I felt a mixture of curious excitement and annoyance. The former for the novelty of it and wondering who they were and where they were from and a strange desire to say hello, and annoyance for them somehow impinging on our adventure, shattering the illusion that we were somehow unique. However, passing them whilst traveling still held enough of a novel curiosity to not be an annoyance to me, but seeing others at the airport and in some restaurants did annoy me. They were mostly late middle aged couples, but generally ranged from 30s to early 60s, hardly any as young as ourselves. The thing that pissed me off was their clothes. I saw one couple wearing full traditional Mongolian clothes, they looked a hippy sort, and they looked fucking ridiculous, almost bordering on the offensive, like they were unintentionally taking the piss. The rest, annoyed me just as much. They were all wearing those trousers that zip off into shorts, safari shirts and jungle hats and had all the outdoor gear, yet seemed to spend their time in jeeps, walking on pavements and eating in restaurants. It seems to be a uniform of a certain type of traveler; those making a statement that they are traveling, and want to dress different to how they normally would so their experience feels more genuine. I don't get why they can't wear their normal high street clothes whilst doing the same activities they would be doing at home. I find you embarrassing. Please stop it. Rant over.