The Jewish Nation of Mongols

by Boris Zubry

  Another dream. Leah woke him up, crying. She was crying much lately. Was it because of him? Where was he? Where was the burning town? Bodies, screams… Animals, the stench… He was in the house. His house. Why was it so hot in the house? It was never that hot. They did not like hot. The cold sweat was pouring down in streams. Even the pillow and the bed sheets were soaked with his sweat. No, it was hot. Why the cold sweat? Oh, the children. Two were sick with the flu, two at the same time. Poor Leah. It has been for a while already. A few days for sure. He needs to pray for them more. They were children and needed all the help they could get. Praying could help. It always helped in the end. In the end, sickness would go away, but you needed to pray. You needed God on your side.

  God always helped in the end. Leah said that he was howling and calling names. But, he was asleep. Just now, and that was why she woke him up. She was getting scared, and he could wake up the children. Yes, he was screaming, howling. How else could you call that? Why? Is it the dream? It was so bizarre. She could not understand the words, but he was saying something, yelling, demanding, ordering. It was like another language. She could not understand the words. She had to do something, bring him back from wherever he was, and she did. She woke him up, somewhat violently. Sorry. She was shaking him until he opened the eyes, woke up. He was covered with cold sweat and hot tears. His eyes would not concentrate on her. He was searching for something.

  “What do you want? What are you searching for? The knowledge? What knowledge? You know everything you need to know. You know the Torah; what else do you need? Torah is the knowledge, eternal knowledge. You read too many books, and you have the other knowledge. Enough already. You are at home, our house. I am Leah, your wife. Let me help you. What can I do to help you? Do you need a doctor? Do you need a Rabbi? Let me help you. Let me hold you. We are all here for you. Children are here for you. Do you want me to call your parents? They would come right away and help you. They are your parents and good people. Do you want me to call the Rabbi? He is a good man and would come too. We are all here for you. Tell me what you need. Tell me what you want.”

  Was he really crying? He was in shock. What was it again? It happened before, but it was not that bad. He could not remember the details. Was it a war. It was some kind of war. What war? He had never seen the battle. He had never been even close to one. Did he want to remember the details? Did he want to remember what he saw? Horror… What a pain. Grief… What a dismay. What was the place? Turkmenia? Uzbekistan? Tajikistan? Russia? The people, the defenders, looked like that. How do they look? Was it the Khazar kingdom? How did it look like? He did not know. It was so confusing. He read about that region but did not really know much. He was muddled. When was it happening? Why? Was it a thousand years ago? It definitely was a long time ago. The people, the clothes, the look of everything. Why did he see it at all? How was he involved with all of that? What was the link, the relation? It was so terrifying. The horror of violent death. The revulsion of life in slavery. So much destruction. He saw hundreds of dead and dying. Hundreds of mutilated beyond the recognition. It was all there, in the dream.

  GENGHIS KHAN

  Ulaanbaatar

  The emergency meeting of the Chiefs of the State of the Great Mongolian Nation started promptly at seven o’clock in the morning.

  The following officials were present:

  - The President VAGABUNDI;

  - The Prime Minister ALBAGDRORJ;

  - The Deputy Prime Minister: OLAANI, and

  - The Cabinet appointed by the State Great Hural (the parliament) in consultation with the President.

  That was a very early meeting even by the emergency standards, but the rest of the day was scheduled already minute by minute, and nothing could be canceled. Everything seemed to be equally important and demanded at least some attention. Even a small nation as Mongolia had a busy life, and the emergencies had to be prioritized. Problems were piling up much faster than they were being solved, and the extra emergency was not appreciated. It often seemed as crises had their own life then, how do you rain them in. Mongolia was a sovereign nation, and the problems knew it very well and waited for their turn. So, what do you do if you are a government official that wants to do something good, and on time? Well, you sleep less and make your day longer or be like the rest of the important people and wait for the things to happen by themselves. That was the government way.

  President Vagabundi understood the sense of urgency when Prime Minister Albagdrorj called him last night and asked for the time to meet as soon as only possible. It did not have to be right away, but as early in the morning as was only feasible. The Prime Minister wanted to invite a few more people from the leadership as well. That would take a little time to arrange, but he could handle it. This was the second term for the President, and he knew that none of the people present this morning would ask for the emergency meeting like this if there was no substantial reason, no real emergency. Something happened, and he did not know it yet. By the sound of it, that would have to be a grandmother of all emergencies that would stand out from all adversities.

  All of the present were patient people with years of experience managing disasters. Disasters, if not for disasters, there would be nothing to manage, and then, what would they do. How would they justify the salaries and the perks they received? What about the luxury residences and the summer houses? What about foreign trips and gifts? What about everything that they had, and people did not. And they wanted more. How would they justify the very existence of the government? And, they wanted to stay in for much longer, for life. The true Mongols were as enduring as the ancient hunters lying in wait for the prey to pass by. If you waited long enough, it would come. That worked back then and still works now. And, these, in this room, were as true Mongols as they come. They were the pureblooded Mongolians and knew what that meant. The pride of Mongolia was sitting in this room right now with deep concern on their worried unshaven faces. They were nervous. What did they have to say? Why the faces of these tempered as steel fighters were so solemn?

  Thanks to the Gods, the Soviets were gone, and Mongolia was free for the first time in so long. Hundreds, if not thousands, of economic, political, and the social obstacles were conquered already. Life was good and getting better, if not by the minute, but on an annual basis. They knew how to keep their heads cool and just work on the problems until you solved it or at least made it less damaging for the ruling party and the government. Keep the country above the water all the time, okay, most of the time. The unsettled problems were not an option, not in this country and not with this administration. They wanted real solutions and often managed them. There were not afraid of work but tended not to overdo that. Still, they did what they could. After all, it was not America where one could kick the can down the road for many years if not forever. America, what a fairytale. Mongolia was real. In Mongolia, the road was not that long if there was a road at all. And, one had to have a can to kick it anywhere. They were not wealthy enough to waste resources on the same thing, time, and time again. The Americans did that all the time. They did it all the time. That made it much easier to muddy the water, not do anything, and come out clean as a whistle. Democrats… Demagogues… The Russians usually ignored the proverbial can altogether. Why bother… If you ignore the problem long enough, maybe it would go away by itself. Possibly it was not there in the first place. Who would argue it with the KGB? The Mongols had a different situation to deal with. They confronted the problem if the problem had not challenged them first. They dealt with it as the situation permitted, to the best of their abilities. They lost many battles but had won some. There always was a solution if you really looked for it. Just try harder. Once more… Hence, if they needed to meet at seven or five o’clock in the morning or very late at night, they did it. Time was never in their corner, and problems had to be taken care of.

  It was a cold, unpleasant, and somehow wet day. Chill and wetness were setting the residence in the bones with no immedia
te plans to leave. Yet, there was no rain. Still, the wetness was everywhere coming from the air and going all the way through the bones, even the small ones. That was not fun at all. The moisture, heavy clouds, wind, and low self-esteem were the main characteristics of this time of the year in the Mongolian steppes. Despite the odds, it happened in Mongolia. So, that’s when Kumis (the Mongolian fermented horse milk) tended to play its role a little more than the usual. One started drinking it in the morning just to take the chill and the dampness off the bones. Cold or warm, Kumis did the body good.

  Try it for yourself, check it for size, kick the tires, and take it for a spin. It could work for you better than you think. That could be your comfort food, comfort drink, and the comfort itself in the piala (round cup with no handles) of any size. Mongols did not have the seasons as the rest of the world did. Surrounded by the Altai Maintains on one side and the Gobi Desert on the other, the country had a climate like no other place on earth. Dry winds from the desert, snow, and rains from the mountains, and the hills, and the lash full of grass valleys, and parched, lacking water steppes drove people to the nomad way of life. Then, sheep, horses, and camels were the only means of survival. That’s all the Mongolian people had during the freezing months. And that was more than half of the year. Still, they lived like that for thousands and thousands of years and did not want to change anything. Many went out and saw what the other parts of the world could offer and then, they came back. And, many more were planning to return soon. The home was always home, and that was more comfortable than not. This is what they knew, and that was what they liked. You live in the city and work somewhere, or you lead the Nomad life in the steppes, you are home, and it becomes more and more comfortable with every passing day. After the Soviets left, and the Socialism with all these failing ideas was gone, they had a shot at the happiness. Maybe it was not the full-blown happiness, but it was a much happier life than before. They never had it before, not in their lifetimes. Maybe Mongols were happy people a thousand years ago, but then, it was gone and lost in the wilderness of somewhat modern times. It took hundreds of years and dozens of generations for the Modern Mongols to start recovering, and they tried hard. The results, even the small ones, could be seen here and there. Still, it could be seen. People smiled more often and even laughed given a chance. The modern Mongols were friendly people and very hospitable to those who meant no harm. Most did not mean any harm and extended the hand in friendship. Most were friends already and just wanted to get to know you better, share some thoughts, and the experiences. Some of it was unique and even rare. Tourism in Mongolia was at the peak, and the Mongols were welcomed just about everywhere. Live and let live.

  Work hard and be happy enjoying what you have, and not be afraid of the knock on the door at three o’clock in the morning. The Japanese and the Chinese oppressors were gone, and even the Soviets were pushed out. That was a lucky break, and no blood was spilled. Redistribution of wealth and the gory executions were the Soviet way of justice, and that’s where the injustice was resigning. No matter who ruled Mongolia over time, it was a bloody affair, and the Mongolians were bleeding to death. Thanks to the Second World War and then, the Soviet collapse, it was there no more, and people could smile more often and even laugh given a chance. They were free. Everyone had a roof over the head, food was plenty, and the sun was up and shining almost every day. Things were looking up, and life was so promising.

  Ulaanbaatar, the modern capital of the country, named after the hero and the leader of the 1921 uprising that liberated the Mongols from the Chinese oppression and some other smaller towns offered a different perspective on life to the harsh Mongolian reality. Mongolia was a small country squeezed into a huge space where one could wonder endlessly not being spoiled by the presence of others. Who needed the others when you had a sheep, a horse, and a camel? A wife and a few children could go far, helping with endless choirs. Parents could join the extended family just to make life that much easier for everyone. As the wise man said, one arrow could be easily broken, but many arrows together could resist the harshness of life. Even the small traditional Yurt (Turkic language) or Ger (Mongolian language) – portable round tents made of wood and the felt, were large enough to accommodate a decent size family. Privacy? How important is that? This is your family, and you have nothing to hide. And, the warmth and comfort were not even a question. With the open fire built right in the middle of the tent and the smoke going out through the round opening in the roof, it was warm and even cozy. The nasty elements could be ripping the world apart just on the other side of the thin wall, but the family and the guests stayed together and enjoyed the warm comradery. The Nomad families liked to stay together if only it were possible. These Nomads were like any other Nomads in the world. Why would they be any different? Yet, it was a harsh life, and one had to adjust to it, and rather fast. One could shepherd a few animals he had, hunt for meat (game runs plenty in the steppes), and horses would give you the Kumis, and even more meat. But, horses and the camels were so vital to survival and were prized. Often, they were cherished more than people. Conflicts developed, and wars were fought over those animals. Blood was spilled, but not of the animals. Still, hash or not, you could go anywhere and do whatever you like. You were free, and only the wind was more liberated than you. Yet, the wind had more responsibilities in the steppes.

  Still, you had more responsibilities in the Yurt. This was the Mongolian world, and that was the life of the Nomads. No matter what your title was, deep inside, you were still a Nomad. The prairies, hills, rivers, rain, snow, and the wind in the horse’s hair – thousands of romantic nights under the huge Mongolian sky. What do you dream of under the enormous Mongolian sky? Is it the riches, the exotic places, the beautiful maidens, the heroic acts? Yes, and freedom. After all, you have everything you need in the steppes, but you could use a few more horses and maybe a camel or two. You could use a few more wives and more children. You could use a lot of beautiful things, but you had everything you needed already.

  You were free as a wild horse running in the horde through the steppes. No one could tell you what to do, and you had your honor. You were you, and only that counted and then, your family and friends. No one could take that away from you. What is a better life for a free-spirited Nomad? In times, it was not so good for them, but then, it was yours and so familiar. Some would find it exacting and difficult, but the Mongols called it home. That was the best home they ever wanted. It was their home. They had it for thousands of years and thought the place was beautiful. And, it was to them. They did not know any better, and they did not want to know any better. What for? So, that was it. Still, many did not like it and, if they did not like it well enough, they did not stay there for too long. That was a part of freedom. Thus, go anywhere you want and do whatever you want. Just be a good Mongol.

  During the Soviet domination, cities, towns, factories, and the apartment buildings were built, and the industrial jobs presented a more profitable, less demanding, and a better alternative. The mostly Nomad population of the Mongols (Khalkha - 94.9%), Turkic (mostly Kazakh - 5%), and the others (including Chinese and the Russians - 0.1%) liked it somewhat but was confused. Still, education was readily available in the Soviet-type Universities and the specialized schools. The Communist Party promised more material commodities than the Khans of the past ever dared to think off. The Khans were not that sophisticated back then, and the modern life offered much more. All the Mongols had to do in exchange was to work hard and wait for Socialism and later, the Communism to arrive. Well, neither of them did. The Khans promised less but often delivered it, and the Soviets promised a lot, but no one ever saw it. For some people, life became more comfortable, and for some, it remained the same. But, most were below the poverty line. And, the poverty line was too low, to begin with. That was set on the level of not to starve to death. One could not go any low than that. The everyday survival of these people was a major miracle by itself, and they thanked Buddha more and more
often.

  Buddha could understand. But, Buddha was not a member of the Communist Party and not very much loved by the leaders. Thus, religion had to be hidden from the jealous eyes of the informants, and that was almost half of the country. But, Buddha saw it all yet, he carried very little weight in the Soviet infrastructure. And, deep inside, even the prosperous citizens of the cities, members of the party, and the informants equally yearned for the open space of the Mongolian steppes and the simple Yurts of Nomads. They missed the small, but so powerful horses (Aduu in Mongolian) of the warriors and the slightly fermented not so deliciously smelling milk (Kumis) of the horses and the camels. This milk was considered more nutritious than the cow’s or the goat’s milk. And, that was the milk of choice for generation after generation, for thousands of years, of the Mongols and the other Nomad tribes of the region sharing the steppes with them.

  The newcomers and just the brief visitors of this thrilling nation had to start by taking a stroll down any residential street in the Mongolian towns. And then, to go through the first introduction to the savory odors of the habitual meals of this exotic cuisine. Meat – whatever you have; spices – maybe; taste – for sure; smell – somewhat pungent. It would not remind you of the French or the Italian cousin and would not make you salivate too much. That’s on the good side. Over salivating is not too attractive. These striking smells were often too strong and too potent for some of the travelers from the somewhat gentler environment, but you must hold on and give it a chance. Was not it why you were there, to experience it all? You did not go there just for the cuisine, and it may pay back one day. You may know the difference by then and like more where you came from. If you are invited into somebody's Ger (traditional round tent dwelling) or an apartment, you will probably have an opportunity of tasting buuz, khuushuur and the bansh – the most popular dishes of that corner of the world. These Mongolian national feasts are made with plenty of minced meat heavily seasoned with garlic or/and onion (this meat can be anything from the mutton to beef to a camel to horse to gazelle or a combination of it all). Roofed with flour, it could be steamed in boiling water, fried in oil or just boiled in water. Some veggies and rice could be served as the side dish, but that is not a must. Meat is the real foundation of the Mongolian meal. Meat is the main staple of the Mongolian existence for as long as the Mongols were around. A drink of fermented milk of any of these animals would always accompany this cooking delight. Thus, it is never Kosher or Halal, and that’s the warning for the religious visitors of the country. You do not go there for that, but you may find it somewhere there if you look harder. Thus, be smarter and bring your own or ask for a different dish. For many visitors to the country, the vast quantities of meat consumed there can, at first, be surprising and often hard to swallow. But, it is not long before a visitor finds their favorite Mongolian food, be it buuz, khuushuur or a few other treats not hidden still, not discovered on the beginning. Even the hardened vegetarians and the vegans would find something fitting their taste and convictions. Unfortunately, there is not going to be much of a variety, and it is limited mostly to rice dishes. Well, the rice is plenty and is cooked in a few different ways. The country and the people are full of surprises, and that is pleasant and even more surprising. Most of the food in Mongolia was designed for people to sit around the fire with the family and friends and eat together as a community. It is communal food, and you eat it from the same cooking dish or a pot, often with your fingers. That was a tribal society all the way, no matter where and how you turn. That’s how things worked in Mongolia for thousands of years, and no one was about to change it. Why would you? What’s the point? That was the people’s way, and people liked it. Just sit around the fire, eat a hot meal of meat and drink some kumis, and talk. Speak of your problems and listen to theirs. Soon, your problems would melt away, giving the room to the dreamy existence of the steppes. After all, life was not that bad. Just a little turmoil here and there. That’s all. Whatever problems they may have, they could deal with it, and people always understood and helped. Was that a tribal thing? It could very well be. Join the tribe and find out.