Bilgee’s bad mood and sudden death of the cab driver

Day: 86

Sunrise:
07:44

Sunset:
18:24

Total kilometers:
777

Soil condition:
Dust/gravel

Temperature – Day (maximum):
18°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
15°C

Temperature – Night:
minus 5°

Latitude:
49°38’671”

Longitude:
100°11’496”

Maximum height:
1220 m above sea level

In the morning we bake pancakes again. Since I don’t know how much longer we will have the chance to prepare my favorite dish, I eat six of them. Bilgee is still out in the pasture even though the thermometer has already dropped to minus 5 degrees tonight. “I hope he hasn’t frozen to death,” says Tanja. “He’ll know what he’s doing and how to survive a night out there without a sleeping bag and tent,” I reply. The hand moves to 10:00 a.m. as Bilgee stands in front of the gate with the horses. Mogi barks excitedly as usual and has announced our man. Shortly afterwards, the prison warden, Major Batjargal, and his head of finance appear. You would like to get a personal impression of the state of health of our horses. Both are satisfied and are sure that the animals will survive the winter well. We agree to meet again in the afternoon. This time in the Mörön prison building. There we will hand over our promised deposit of 500,000 Tugrik and sign the contract to put our agreement on a legal footing.

When the officers have left, I ask Bilgee again what prompted him not to ride the horses back after all. “You have a contract with the military. You are now responsible for the wintering and must also take care of getting the horses back to Mörön,” we hear the same strange answer as yesterday. As Bilgee has so far appeared to us to be exceptionally intelligent, we can’t make the slightest head or tail of this pointless, almost childish statement. Once again I point out to him that he can’t pay 5.7 million Tugrik. “I told you I could cut the price in half,” we now hear in amazement. “What? That’s the first time I’ve heard that,” I gasp, and as the realization of his statement seeps through my brain, I’m even more disappointed than before. “You can get the horses through the winter for half the price?” I ask to make sure I’ve understood him correctly. “Yes.” “And how will that work?” “I’ll take three of them to my relatives in the country and keep three next to the house in Erdenet,” he explains. “Even 2.5 million is still far too much. Besides, we have given our word to the military. When I give a word, I keep it. For me, a word or a promise is like a contract. Tanja and I are even pleased that the prisoners will no longer freeze in winter,” I reply. The sudden drastic price reduction made us realize that something was wrong. Bilgee has completely betrayed himself. The food can’t have suddenly become so enormously cheap. Even if he gave three horses away somewhere, that would not be in our interest. Also lacks any logic. So why not hand them all in? And apart from that, no nomad will herd three horses for seven months free of charge. Due to the price reduction, we hardly believe that Bilgee is acting honestly and are now more convinced than ever that we no longer want to continue with him. However…? There is still a glimmer of hope for his honesty and sincerity. We can only pull together the facts which show us that we have been terribly ripped off. But we have no proof. This whole dilemma could also have been caused by a translation error by Saraa. Do we know? No. So when in doubt, we stand by him. Assuming he still wants to ride with us to Tsagaan Nuur. “Phew, that takes a lot of nerve,” I groan, thinking about the conversation with Mother Earth. His behavior will give Mörön’s prison new windows. The positive effect of his action is disproportionate to his negative reaction for us. So we can indeed be grateful to Bilgee for not wanting to ride the horses back. What was that again? “Every experience is fundamentally part of our journey through life. It is also not disappointing. Only if I want it to be, if I evaluate a situation and turn it into a disappointment.” That is simply brilliant. This truth is both simple and fascinating. If I had the size now I could go to Bilgee and thank him from the bottom of my heart. But would he understand? I don’t think so. Saraa’s translation skills are not sufficient for this. Tanja and I have therefore agreed to keep Bilgee with us and give him another chance. Even if Gonchig is against it and wants us to continue with Tulgaa from now on.

While Tanja does the final shopping, I assemble the horse-drawn carriage with Bilgee. We unscrew the tires and take them to Saraa’s terrace. To protect it, we pull a plastic tarpaulin over the small covered wagon and place it on wooden stakes. Around midday, Bilgee rides off again to take the horses to the mountains around Mörön. Bilgee says goodbye with a growl rather than the otherwise cheerful “Daraa bajartaj” (“See you soon”)

Sudden death of the cab driver

In the afternoon, Saraa comes back to the yurt and brings sad news. “Ringhineazar has died,” she says. “What? Who?” we want to know. You know what I mean. Ringhineazar was the tattooed driver who took us to the prison camp yesterday. “What? He was still really happy and cheerful,” I say, startled. “He really was. We can’t understand it. Ringhineazar is… er was a very good person. “When he dropped us off here yesterday, he drove a few customers around town. On the way home, he had a heart attack at the wheel and died immediately,” we hear and can hardly believe it. “Heart attack? At the wheel?” I repeat. “Yes,” answers Saraa. “Have any other people been hurt?” I ask, as he obviously died while driving. “I don’t think so. I’m going to see his wife now and wish her my condolences. I’ll give her 10,000 tugrik (€5.71) for the funeral. It won’t be easy for her. He leaves behind two sons aged 10 and 12,” she says and leaves our house again. “It’s strange. Yesterday he gave us an insight into his life and talked about his youth and now he’s gone,” Tanja muses. “Really strange. As if he had made peace with the past part of his life in the prison camp,” I reflect. “Yes, that could be the case. Maybe the visit there was important for him. His death was apparently quick. Without the long suffering that so many people have to go through,” Tanja continues. “Come to think of it, a nice death,” I say and am glad that Ringhineazar only decided to leave the earth after he had dropped us off at home. What would have happened if the heart attack had struck him just two hours earlier? Maybe just at the moment when he was heating down one of the many mountains with all of us?

Major Batjargal gets his windows

At 17:00 we go to the prison as agreed. We receive a friendly welcome and are taken to the director’s office. Major Batjargal offers us a seat on simple wooden chairs. After a brief conversation, we sign the contracts and hand over the promised 500,000 tugrik to the obviously happy man. “I am very happy that Saraa brought them to us. As you know, I have been trying for three years to find a sponsor for these broken windows and now my dream is coming true. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Also on behalf of my prisoners. It will be the first winter in which they no longer have to freeze. I will order the windows first thing tomorrow morning. And I can assure you that they will be installed in four weeks at the latest. They will see it when they return from their expedition,” he says. “The joy is also on our side. You could say it was divine providence that financed her windows and not us personally,” I reply, thinking of Mother Earth.

Bilgee returns with the horses at 20:00. This is unusual because he has never been this early before. He is rather taciturn and grumpy. I serve him the stew cooked especially for him with lots of fatty meat. Just the way he likes it best. Bilgee gobbles it down unenthusiastically. Without a word of the usual and effusive thanks, he lies down on his bed and sleeps. Tanja and I look at each other in amazement. “It’s really no fun with him anymore,” she whispers. “No, it doesn’t. Somehow I also have the feeling that he won’t want to continue. Now that he knows about his failed mega-business, maybe he lacks any motivation? Who knows? Under these circumstances, we should really think about continuing with Tulgaa,” I also say quietly. Then we crawl into our sleeping bags and try to sleep. However, the atmosphere in our yurt is so bad that I can’t find any peace. Inwardly agitated, I toss and turn. Tanja seems to feel the same way. “Can’t you sleep either?” I ask in a whisper. “No,” she whispers.

We look forward to your comments!