Bitten by a dog

Day: 104

Sunrise:
08:21

Sunset:
17:50

Total kilometers:
1146

Soil condition:
Ice, snow

Temperature – Day (maximum):
minus 18°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
minus 25°C

Temperature – Night:
minus 27°C

Latitude:
51°21’785”

Longitude:
099°21’046”

Maximum height:
1475 m above sea level

At breakfast, Bilgee tells us that he wants to drive us home in three days. Tanja and I look at each other in shock. “In three days already?” I ask to make sure I’ve understood him correctly. “Tijmee”, (yes) he replies. “Can’t you stay another five days?” I ask cautiously, as we got a whole truck full of trees for our firewood yesterday and Bilgee wants to show me how to use the chainsaw. We still have to build our wall unit, make cold insulation for the yurt door, sew a felt mat as a support for our wall unit, bend wire hooks for hanging our dishes, make a doghouse for Mogi, as we have decided not to part with him after all, and many other jobs that still need to be done, for which we would very much like Bilgee’s help. Bilgee looks at me kindly and laughs. “I’ll stay until we’ve finished the work,” his answer relieves us.

As I write about our extensive experiences, Bilgee and Tanja carry all the equipment into the baishin (log cabin) next to the yurt. Ayush rented it to us for 30,000 tugrik (€17) a month. Tanja will use this Baishin to work out all the food logistics for the next six months. That would be impossible in the yurt due to lack of space. So once again we are very lucky to be able to use a Baishin for our extensive work. The plan is to pack one box of food for every two weeks. There should be 12 boxes in total, which we then store in our yurt under the wall. There it is out of the way and at the same time as cold as in an icebox.

Bilgee and I are now looking for six suitable wooden posts that we need as feet for our wall. It takes us a while to find logs with a diameter of about 15 cm among the tree trunks we have organized for our firewood. We saw them to a length of approx. 40 cm. While I debark them with a blunt axe, Bilgee, like everything he does, saws a mortise and tenon into each wooden foot amazingly well. This mortise and tenon is to be inserted into a joint that we are working into a tree trunk. This means one beam with two joints for every two wooden feet. The boards we bought from Ayush are then nailed on top.

“Do you have a wooden chisel?” asks Bilgee. “A wooden chisel?” “Tijmee. I need it to chisel the joints in the beams,” he explains. Well, I’ve bought a few tools in the meantime, but a wood chisel? I never dreamed of that. We ask Ayush if he can lend us such a tool, but he says he doesn’t have it. Bilgee and I then go to the village. We walk to the five or six small stores that are there. Unfortunately without success. “Let’s try over there,” I point to a small log cabin with a sign above the door that says something is for sale there. On the way there, a big old dog is lying in the middle of the snow-covered ground. Because in Tsagaan Nuur there are an infinite number of dogs running around freely, nothing out of the ordinary. However, I immediately notice his aggressive look. I quickly reach into my pocket and clutch the pepper spray. “Just try to bite, you bastard, and I’ll give you one that will make you lose your sight and hearing,” I think, my eyes boring into his. As we pass the dog, he looks to the side and turns his head. Maybe I just imagined that this mutt was a biter? But better safe than sorry. A young woman comes towards us. As she walks past the four-legged friend lying there, he suddenly jumps up and attacks her. “Tuslaaraj! Tuslaaraj! Tuslaaraj!” (“Help! Help! Help!”) she screams in horror as the highly aggressive street dog bites her mercilessly below the knee. Limping and screaming, the woman tries to keep on her feet and escape. The biter goes after her, digging its bared teeth into her flesh again when Bilgee and I are already on the spot. Ready to defend the Mongolian by any means necessary, I leap towards the dog. He tucks his tail and trolls off. “He bit me! He bit me!” the woman cries and stutters. Blood seeps through her pants. Her hands tremble and tears run down her cheeks. A piece of paper she is holding in her hand falls to the floor. I feel deep compassion. Because of my bad Mongolian, I don’t know how to help her. Bilgee speaks a few words to her. Then a couple comes out of a log cabin next door. They seem to know the woman and call someone from their cell phone. Crying, still in shock, the bitten woman limps off in the direction she has just come from. “She urgently needs a doctor,” I try to convey emphatically to the rather impassive-looking couple. “There is rabies here.” But how can I make people understand that the dog was very aggressive for no reason? That this irritability and biting behavior is often a sure sign of this terrible, contagious infectious disease? How am I supposed to convey to the people here that the bitten person must be vaccinated against rabies immediately? That a bite from a rabid animal ends in certain and very cruel death? But who knows? Perhaps there is no vaccine against rabies in Tsagaan Nuur?

Dejected at not being able to help the woman, I walk back to our yurt beside Bilgee, at a loss for words. At home, I tell Tanja about the incident. “You must never go shopping without your pepper spray,” I warn anxiously.

Because we can’t continue working on our wall without the wood chisel, we ask Ayush again if he has a wood chisel. And lo and behold. He goes into the shed and gives me one. “Well, we could have saved ourselves hours of walking around,” I say to Tanja. “Why didn’t he give you the chisel straight away?” she wants to know. “If I knew that? I think he’s a bit stingy and is afraid he won’t get his tools back or if he does, they might be broken. I’ll call Saraa. Tell her to get us a wooden chisel in Mörön and when he gets here I’ll give him his used chisel and give the old man a new one. He’ll be pleased,” I decide.

While Bilgee cuts the joints in the logs, I help Tanja fetch water. Together with Mogi, we walk to the lake. Mogi is exuberant and enjoys his freedom. There are no sheep or goats here. The only dangers are small calves and loose dog gangs with which he could fight. At the moment, Mogi is running back and forth not far from us. He plays with other dogs quite happily. He also seems to have made peace with Check, Ayush’s dog. Tanja gives Mogi more attention again and soon something like love. She goes shopping with him. Even without a leash, he hardly leaves her side and waits patiently in front of the store until she comes out again. So she suddenly has a loyal and strong protector. I am convinced that he is actually defending us from everything that is not well-disposed towards us. His strong protective instinct is becoming more and more evident every day.

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