Called to Gobi

by D. I. Telbat

  "No one speaks to Gan-gaad the way you do." Zima said, beaming.

  "It's only counsel." I shrugged. "Nothing more than what Luyant would offer if he chose to. Right, Luyant?"

  Luyant stared into the fire, then glanced at me to nod once. He rose with his wife and left me and Zima alone. I stood and stretched with a yawn.

  "I'd better get to the beasts of the field," I said. "No one's watching over them right now."

  "You know, Gan-gaad won't allow the women to enter the town tomorrow," Zima said. "He says we come back to the clan too worldly."

  "It could be true. Much of the West is coming through Mongolia's borders now. Not all of it is good."

  "But you'll be going into Bulgan, won't you?"

  "Yes, I have matters to address for myself as well as whatever Gan-gaad has for me to do."

  "Would you bring me something?" She blushed in the firelight.

  "Like what?"

  "I don't care. Last week, I became twenty-eight, the day we met. Do you give gifts in America for celebrations?"

  "Yes. I'll find you something." I smiled and put an arm around her shoulder. "A present, a surprise."

  "Do you want me to stay up with you tonight? You won't get any sleep if we leave at the end of your watch as Gan-gaad intends."

  "No, you sleep. There's no point in both of us sleeping in the saddle tomorrow."

  The rest of the clan went to their gers as I climbed onto the back of my mare and rode around the flocks and herds. I remembered reading in the Bible how Christ's sheep know His voice, so I softly sang several old hymns to comfort the animals—as well as to worship my God. It was a cold night, but I was happy to be involved in the well-being of the clan.

  *~*

  Chapter 9

  It was an hour past midnight during my watch when my mare snorted and shied away from the western plain. My eyes were already adjusted to the darkness, but I still had trouble spotting the sulking creatures out in the grass. Sulking because it seemed the wolves were ashamed of their stealthy instincts and prowling in the night. To me, it was appropriate they seemed ashamed; there was plenty of game to attack, but here they were after my animals.

  Several of the animals on the edge of camp had sensed the predators as well. I continued singing, regardless of the danger, and rode back to my ger. At the top of my pack was Rex's flare gun from the plane. Taking the gun and all three cartridges, I rode back to the western perimeter. When I'd loaded the flare gun, I climbed off my mare, selected a handful of hand-sized stones, and stepped into the grass.

  I wasn't afraid. The wolves wanted a tender leg of lamb, not my unbathed flesh. Laughing inside, I made a mental note to bathe the next time I was sent alone on an errand. Gan-gaad and Luyant smelled worse than the camels, so apparently no one really cared.

  Raising the flare gun, I fired into the sky. A loud bang pierced the night. The clan's animals flinched and tensed as a shimmering ball of fire glowed eerily from above. The crouching wolves were caught in a state of shock—exposed by the light.

  "Get outta here!" I whipped my rocks at them with brutal force.

  After half a minute, the flare burned itself out in the sky, but the wolves had scattered. I looked back at the gers. Only Luyant had been startled. From across the flocks in the moonlight, I raised my arm to assure him all was well. He returned the gesture and went back into his ger.

  Comforting my spooked mare, I climbed back onto her.

  "'I am the Good Shepherd,'" I recited from John 10. "'The Good Shepherd lays down His life for His sheep. He who is a hired hand, and not a shepherd, sees the wolf coming, and leaves the sheep and flees.'" The animals in camp settled back to rest, moving close to one another for warmth on the cold night. "'And the wolf snatches them and scatters them. He flees because he is a hired hand and is not concerned about the sheep. I am the Good Shepherd, and I know My own. My own know Me, even as the Father knows Me and I know the Father; and I lay down My life for the sheep. I have other sheep which are not of this fold; I must bring them also, and they will hear My voice; and they will become one flock with one Shepherd.'"

  "Only a fool would lay his life down for a sheep," a quiet though challenging voice said.

  I reined up as Dusbhan strode toward me, cradling his AK-47 in his arm, as always. He smoked a cigarette, then flicked the butt at a ewe as he drew closer.

  "If the Shepherd truly loves His sheep, He will die to save them," I said.

  "Once he's dead, the wolf will still get the sheep."

  "The wolf dies with the Shepherd," I insisted, "then the Shepherd comes back to life to care for His sheep."

  Dusbhan passed me, cruelly slapping the nose of my mare. He lit another cigarette as he eyed the darkness for more wolves.

  "So, the shepherd comes back to life and there are more wolves." Dusbhan continued to challenge.

  "The wolf that died with the Shepherd was the Father of all wolves. He represents evil," I explained. "The Good Shepherd destroyed the father of evil."

  "And what do the sheep represent?"

  "People who need a Shepherd."

  He puffed on his tobacco and looked up at me.

  "Where did you get this story?"

  "It's from an ancient text that describes the heart of man and other mysteries."

  "I don't like it." Dusbhan cast me a glance. "Besides, I don't need a shepherd."

  "Have you never felt insignificant in this amazing world?" I asked with a sigh. "I'm not a great man, but I have met a few. The best of them admit they are lonely in this world, small and powerless to sickness, death, and the elements of the wild. So they depend on something greater than themselves."

  "What is greater than man?"

  "The sun is greater than man," I said. "Some worship the sun. But the sun cannot care for us or love us or correct us. So I look higher."

  "Higher than the sun?" Dusbhan admired the sky. "You worship the stars?"

  "The stars cannot love me, either. At times, all of creation may seem against me. Logic tells me to worship the Creator, not the creation."

  "There is nothing that is not created. How do you worship?"

  "Through admiration. Through obedience to ancient texts of men who've learned what the Creator desires of His simple sheep. And by loving and caring for other sheep around me."

  Dusbhan flicked his cigarette butt at the grass and blew smoke at the stars.

  "You're a foreigner. What can you know about life here?" He looked at me again. "Every day is the same. There's no end. Someday, I'll lead the clan. That will be nice for a while, but then I'll be like Gan-gaad. And the days will be the same again. I'll always need something more."

  "Yes, perhaps." I nodded. "Unless you had a purpose to pursue. Something to seek while you live this simple life. When I was growing up, I lived in a huge city. The buildings were ten times taller than the tallest cedar you've ever seen. A man, even a proud man, begins to feel small there. Everyone eventually attaches themselves to something they feel completes them, or makes them feel more important or useful. Some choose money, but they can never get enough money to feel happy or fulfilled. Some choose women or drugs. All of those have their limitations. It seems wisest to choose a Being that has no limits."

  "You're talking about your Good Shepherd again," he said with understanding. "It seems too simple."

  "The decision to follow Him is simple. I've never regretted it. But others are selfish and eventually die for no purpose. Something to consider," I suggested. "Something to think about on all the days that seem the same."

  I urged my mare farther around the perimeter and left Dusbhan standing there. Having given him plenty to consider, I didn't want to push him. Besides, it wasn't me who would change his heart, but the Holy Spirit who had to work in him. It was my job to plant a seed. From a distance, I watched him. For a long time, he stared at the sky, smoking. As I made my rounds, I prayed for him aloud in English.

  At three in the morning, I woke Gan-gaad as he'd asked. Though I
'd had a long day and night and needed sleep, it would have to wait. The camp rose, dismantled the gers, and trampled the landscape in its departure. Zima and I remained behind as always, but with a chore to do before we sat down to read and pray. By the light of the moon, we used our hands and my trenching shovel to rebuild the dam so the stream could pool for Navi-hasgovi and others who would follow. I made the pool deep with the dam half-constructed by rock so it was stronger and more likely to be noticed by the coming hooved creatures. What small wonder I could've fashioned with a little cement!

  In the glow of a single piece of coal in the early morning darkness, we poured over the Scriptures. I wrote Gino of the possible breakthrough with Dusbhan. A seed had been planted, and I asked Gino and his small congregation to pray for him.

  "I don't understand why Joseph didn't punish his brothers," Zima said as we climbed onto our mounts to pursue the clan. We'd just finished Genesis. "He had the power and they were certainly in the wrong."

  "Well, I believe he set for us an example to be loving and forgiving," I said. "Above all, God guided his heart to save his entire family who would become a great nation. It's a lesson that is stressed many times in the Bible: 'Love covers a multitude of sins.'"

  Instead of racing back to the clan as we normally did, we reviewed Genesis, and it was noon before we reached the clan at a wide creek that traversed the steppes from the mountains. Though there hadn't been one previously, Zima and I built a dam above the trail. Then, we raced to catch up to the clan again, where I loosed my mare and climbed into the back of a crowded wagon to finally sleep.

  "Pond! Pond!" a voice boomed.

  Waking with a start, I tumbled out of the back of the wagon. Zima and several of the youngest children were there to laugh at me. She tossed me a stick of venison and a wild potato she'd recently unearthed. Her sparkling eyes held my gaze, and I became more fully aware of her intentions toward me through that one look.

  "Pond!" Gan-gaad yelled as he galloped his horse back to me. Worry creased his face. "My son is ill. Do you know medicine?"

  I looked to the front of the caravan where Squirrel usually rode in the back of another wagon with his sisters.

  "Some," I answered. "Take me to him."

  Jogging, I went ahead with Gan-gaad as Dusbhan rode in from the left flank to see what was happening. The cart, driven by Gan-gaad's second wife, didn't stop rolling as I climbed into it. The four other children moved away from Squirrel who lay on his back. He'd messed his drawers and vomited since he was in too much pain to climb out of the cart to do so. After checking a few of the obvious vital signs, I found he was running a fever and delirious.

  "Has he eaten anything strange lately?" I asked the eldest of his sisters, Chita.

  Chita shook her head. In the week that I'd been with the clan, the children hadn't spoken to me. They'd been so warned of evil foreigners, they only stared and hid from me, but perhaps were hoping for more gum. Squirrel was the exception. He was so mischievous, just as he'd been from the first moment I'd met him when he'd poked my cheek.

  I tenderly touched Squirrel's abdomen. It wasn't until I pressed on his right side below the ribs that he yelped and began to cry.

  "His appendix has burst," I told Gan-gaad. "How long has he been like this?"

  "Since yesterday. Is it serious?"

  "He will die very soon without a doctor's care. How far are we from Bulgan?"

  "Still five or six hours. You know his illness. You can cure him."

  "No. He requires a minor surgery. Any doctor can perform it, but he'll need antibiotics. Medicine."

  "I'll take him and ride ahead," Dusbhan said. "Give him to me. I have the fastest horses."

  "No," Gan-gaad said. "Pond is faster on his bike."

  Dusbhan scowled as his hopes to save his cousin were dashed.

  "Let Dusbhan take him." I said, not waiting for Gan-gaad's approval. "I'll ride ahead and find a doctor and have him waiting and ready by the time you get there, Dusbhan."

  Picking up Squirrel, I held him out to Dusbhan who rode alongside. He pulled him close and cradled him much better than I ever could while riding my bike. Without a parting word, Dusbhan urged his horse into a run to the south. I leapt off the cart to find my bike.

  "Pond, watch the doctor!" Gan-gaad ordered. "Stay with him as he cares for Marbin! The doctor may be Russian or Chinese!"

  "We'll make sure he's safe, Gan-gaad."

  I sped away on my bike. The trail had turned into a packed, centuries-old path as we drew closer to the town. Dusbhan's horse had settled into a steady canter by the time I caught him.

  "Find the largest hospital in town!" I instructed. "I'll be there to meet you."

  "All right, American." Dusbhan carried Squirrel stiffly in one arm as if he were unaccustomed to children.

  Peddling ahead vigorously, I was so focused on the glimmer of the town ahead that I didn't acknowledge the sound of tires on pavement until a semi-truck and trailer roared past me! Astonished, I steered to my left, rode down then up a ditch, and onto a well-paved highway. The highway was in good condition, so I put my head down and pumped ahead. Cars and trucks occasionally passed me as I rode on the shoulder. Praying for speed and safety, I reached the town in less than thirty minutes.

  #######

  Once or twice in our lives, God allows us to experience an event that forces us to contemplate our mortality. That was the look of concern I saw on Dusbhan's face as he watched through the small window in the door of the clinic's operating room. As Gan-gaad had feared, the physician was Russian. After only a couple questions, though, I realized the man was as competent as anyone I'd go to in New York City.

  "He'll be well now, Dusbhan," I told him. "You got him here in time."

  "I had a sister once, you know." His eyes didn't leave the operating room window. "She wasn't much older than Marbin when she fell ill. Luyant didn't know what to do. He didn't trust the doctors. So she died and Luyant never spoke again." Our eyes met. "The world is changing. Gan-gaad and Father are afraid, but they let us bring Marbin here. Now he doesn't have to die."

  "It could be their hearts are changing, too," I said.

  "That is your doing, Pond. I listen to my radio and know more than Gan-gaad and Father. The Good Shepherd is your God. You have brought Him here."

  "God is everywhere. He listens to the prayers of His humble people. But He won't force Himself into our hearts. That's a decision for each man and woman—to follow Him."

  "And your ancient text is the Bible, isn't it?"

  "It is."

  "The Russian Bible people killed my grandfather. Gan-gaad—"

  "Gan-gaad can't stop the power of God," I said. "Already, Luyant knows I have a Bible. He knows the Russian religious leaders who killed his father weren't loving men who honestly represented what is really written in the Bible about the Good Shepherd. In just the short time I've been with your clan, I've learned that Mongolia is hungry for the truth the rest of the world has already taken the opportunity to accept or reject. Mongolia and people like your father and uncle, they can't keep God out any longer. It's the reason I came."

  "Luyant knows you follow your God so devoutly?"

  "He knows, but he is wary."

  "But this . . . Good Shepherd, He's more powerful than Buddha?"

  "Buddha was a wise but worldly teacher—and he was just a man. I've studied much of Lamaism," I said. "Buddha didn't wish to be made into a center of worship like a god. He wanted others to reach true enlightenment. From what I've read, Buddha sought the Good Shepherd, where all wisdom originates, all enlightenment, but Buddha didn't know how to find Him because no one told him about the true God, or he chose a different path. And he fashioned a form of worship as he tried to understand the purpose of life. Then he died and left behind followers who shared his pursuit for purity and perfection. God holds the answer to all of these vain pursuits—the pursuits of man to save himself. Buddhism has become a tradition and source for spiritual meaning, but God�
�the Good Shepherd—is truth. Only He fulfills and quenches that thirst and saves us from ourselves."

  "No, I don't want to hear any more!" Dusbhan said harshly. "I want to read of it myself. If He is all you say He is, then I won't be left wanting if I seek the truth, right?"

  "Truer words have never been spoken. I'll find you a Bible of your own. You'll stay here while I run some errands?"

  "Gan-gaad and Marbin's mother will be here soon."

  I left the clinic to see more of the town I'd ventured into. Here was a civilization trapped between two ages: the ancient that still herded animals on the open steppes, and the modern world of technology and advanced enterprise. A small section at the western end of town had been purposely left behind in the town's modernization to accommodate the nomads when they came to town with their stock. Gan-gaad had made camp outside of town, and since he'd already taken his stock to market that spring in Dund-Us, his business in Bulgan was confined to purchasing supplies for the coming winter.

  The few people on the modern streets reminded me of pictures I'd seen of Native American reservations from the 1980s. They wore jeans, sweaters or long-sleeved wool, and light coats or jackets since it was a summer night. I blended into the town nicely. By my blond hair, I would be characterized as a Russian descendant, so I kept my cap on. But Gan-gaad, with his hide leggings and ungroomed exterior, would announce his status as a nomad. His place was at the western edge of town.

  Thinking of grooming, I touched my cheeks and chin to find almost three weeks of thick growth. I hadn't shaved since Istanbul, nor bathed in over a week.

  It was after eleven at night by the time I located an inn. I paid in US cash. The next day, I'd have to convert what I had into tugriks. It cost me another two hundred tugriks to use the inn's lobby phone. The clerk listened as I connected through two different switchboards to reach Ondorhaan. But the clerk seemed disappointed when I began speaking English.

  "Randy!" I exclaimed. "So good to hear your voice!"

  "Andy?" he asked sleepily. I was calling very late.

  "Yeah, it's me."