Paved Roads

Don’t take the paved road.

Ondorkhaan is the aimag(province) center of Khentii with a population of around seventeen thousand. I hadn’t thought of it as much until I mentioned to Ethan that I was surprised that this little town had a school for disabled children and he said it is like a state capital. Makes sense. There are a few paved roads that run through our town, including one that we call the main street because it goes through the section where the majority of the business and little shops are. I have learned that roads don’t really mean much here. They all have spots where they are a little torn up so rather than going over the bumps the cars either shift to the opposite lane or drive through the dirt that the road has divided. You see, anything that is not a bump, a building, another car, or a person IS the road. It is so hard to know how to walk around, you have to be constantly on the watch for a car because even if you are off the road you may find yourself face-to-face with an oncoming vehicle.
There are street lights, but they work only some of the time. They randomly go on and off. I have yet to see the stop lights in operation. The rules of the road are just different. I’m not sure why, but I love it that the street lights capriciously switch off while walking under their glow.
Today was cool. A motley group of us went up to Ondorkhaan mountain. There was Saina, who is the director for external relations. I have a problem with profiling people and making up their personality based on a few observations. I quickly had him down as the rich guy you shouldn’t trust or mess with because although clean cut he probably had ties with the mafia. His teeth were framed in shiny metal as if a dentist were showcasing his work, he wore a nice suit and long leather boots that I really don’t see men often wearing. He just looked like a mafia guy what can I say? So, I was really wrong on that one. He was very friendly and a brother in the faith, had traveled the world and was very interested in my experiences and helping me out.
The next guy, Dorj, I was wrong on too. He had a limp—which was somehow ominous and intimidating—and on occasion used one of those canes that has a brace and support at the elbow. He had a crew cut and looked tough, as if seasoned by many tough years, and of course wore a nice suit—looking professional and equally dangerous. I saw him as the right hand man to the aforementioned mafia man. This man was heavily involved in ministry, devoting himself to visiting prisoners and sharing the gospel with them. I was told that he really has the gift of evangelism.
Then there was the Malaysian pastor, Mr. Lor, decked out in traditional Mongolian garb called a “del”; the ADP manager, Ganaa, the only woman among us, dressed stylishly of course and always equipped with a smile that exuded joy and innocence; and myself, the odd American kid, unshaven and awkward. Yes, there you have it.
We first went to a ger that was on the vast steppe that rest at the foot of the mountain. Dried beef was boiled along with some flour noodles in what was like beef jerky soup. Watched some men comb and collect cashmere from bleating goats, it was kind of weird, the complaints of the furry fellows sounded pretty human. The family had, through the police, hired guys that had committed minor crimes to work for 300 tugriks an hour or 3000 per day. That’s less than 3 bucks, and the sad thing is that you can buy 2-3 cheap bottles of vodka with that money. Saina shared with me the sadness he felt, knowing that was probably how they were going to blow their money and that this is no anomaly—it is the norm. I learned that the solar panels I saw, basking in the sun, at this ger and at the other herder families I had visited, were supplemented by the government so they could have electricity.
I’m no outdoorsman but when I got to ride the horse around, looking off into the plains that sloped up to the mountains and the herd off in the distance, something in me stirred. I wondered what it would be like, to live such a simple life, free to roam. I could see the city in the distance, with the heat rising off the ground creating a translucent veil distorting its shape, giving it an illusory, mirage-like appearance.
The drive to the mountain was bumpy to say the least. We were a bit jostled when we arrived, but we made it, and what a wondrous site it was from up there. I began to think about how if we stick to the paved roads how much we might be missing, what mountaintops we pass by because we want to go the way so many other lives have gone, guaranteeing safety. Hard thing to think about for someone that prefers order and things planned out. I wonder how much I have missed out on for fear of being uncomfortable or getting a flat tire.
The ubiquitous shiny blue scarves were everywhere, tied to trees and posts that protruded from piles of rocks. There were a few shrubs that were so entangled with them it appeared as if they were alight with blue flame. At the top was an even greater shrine, it looked as if a mighty fortress that had fallen and people had tied the scarves in remembrance of its former glory; wooden doors with painted soldiers stood guard. People walk around it three times to receive blessing. This is why we were here. People worship the mountain and give it offerings in hope of good fortune. Mr. Lor anointed the mountain, prayed over it, the city, and the land.
Something about the frayed, tattered, scarves holding on so desperately to the poles to which they were tied, spoke to me. The wind was so strong, I envied that they could fly in the wind and still be anchored. This may sound Gnostic but with the sun shining in my face I couldn’t help but close my eyes and hope that the wind would take me away, out of the human shell that I felt so trapped in at the moment. It felt like being on the verge of something and dying, waiting for it to happen. Like someone leaning in to whisper something to you and yet they aren’t saying anything. I felt so close to God and yet so frustrated as the reality of the distance became clear, the tension was somehow invigorating, so inspired but without any words. There was something about being on top of a mountain and in a 360 sweep of the horizon I could only barely see the edge of town, the rest was open air and land.
Even a city boy needs his fair share exploring unpaved paths, for it is the mountain tops that remind the soul what it was created for.
(mad props to Robert Frost for saying this so concisely)