Fraud and the hussar play

Day: 23

Sunrise:
05:56 h

Sunset:
8:19 pm

Total kilometers:
400

Temperature – Day (maximum):
29 °C

Temperature – day (minimum):
24 °C

Temperature – Night:
17 °C

Latitude:
49°01’802”

Longitude:
104°01’571”

Maximum height:
1415 m above sea level

Ulaanaa and his friend arrive before breakfast. They bring the beautiful light bay horses, the mare and the dark bay that we bought three and two days ago. Tanja has just gone to the bank to withdraw some more money. No wonder, given the constant demands and expenses. I’m glad because the nomads have finally kept to our agreement and brought the horses on time. “I’ll only sell my horse for 500,000 Tugrik”, (286,- € Tugrik) says Ulaanaa’s friend before the consciousness of joy can spread through me. “Why is that? We agreed 450,000 per horse and sealed the deal with a handshake. Doesn’t that count for anything with you? Have you no sense of honor?” I let Taagii translate my torrent of words. “We are the descendants of Genghis Khan,” the impudent man laughs at me. “Well, then the descendant of Genghis Khan can take his horse home again,” I say, and I have rarely been so sure of my statement. “That’s all right. I’ll sell you the horse for the agreed price,” he agrees immediately and the cloudy cloud of bad mood disappears as quickly as if it had never been there. In the meantime, Tanja has also returned to look at the horses. “They’re beautiful animals,” she confirms my purchase. “I’m afraid I don’t have time. I have to go to the countryside,” urges the shepherd who was about to take advantage of me. “And that in Mongolia?” I say. “There’s no time problem here,” I say and everyone laughs. Because he seems to be in a real hurry, I count his 450,000 tugriks into his hands as the carters turn up with their two draught horses. As soon as the person under time pressure has his money in his pocket, he wants to disappear. “Stop! We’ll take another photo of you and Ulaanaa,” I shout. We stand in front of Naraa’s log cabin, take the photo and then he has already disappeared. Then we pay the carters. “Here are the horseshoes you wanted,” says the little woman. Once again we are disappointed because they should be included in the price. “Taagii? You were there. Were the horseshoes included or not?” I ask, unsettled by the constant back and forth. “They were included. I know that for a fact.” “Well, now the woman wants 24,000 tugrik (€14) for them,” I huff, exasperated. “You don’t have to take them. We can make good use of them ourselves,” says the horsewoman. Here too, arguing is completely pointless. There are four of them. Each of them claims that the horseshoes are to be charged extra. So we pay for an extra set of horseshoes and give her the other one back.

When one of the carters gets wind that we are looking for a companion, he offers to join us. “What do you want for your services?” I hear myself ask, tired of this whole money and overreaching thing. “500,000 Tugrik (€286) a month!” he shouts, to which Tanja and I laugh out loud. “I earn 500,000 tugrik a month with my horses,” he says, justifying his claim. “Well then, it’s better you stick to your haulage business,” I suggest. “I know the area around Khövsgöl. I come from there. Would like to go home again. I’m a good man and know my way around the draught horses. I’ll do it for 350,000 Tugrik. (200,- €) Think about it,” he now offers. Since we’re meeting Bilgee tonight, we’ll cancel for now. “Maybe we’ll call you,” I say as the man shakes my hand to say goodbye.

As soon as all the horse owners have left Naraa’s garden, Taagii draws my attention to one of the two light brown horses. “I think the nomad who disappeared so quickly put a fake horse on us.” “Don’t make me weak. That can’t be right. It looks exactly like the one we rode in the pasture,” I say, wanting to cry with anger, disappointment and rage. Naraa, who is also in the garden, shakes her head indignantly. I go with Tanja and Taagii to the conscious horse to examine it even more closely. In fact, it has pressure points that did not exist before. “It looks tired,” I say. “Ulaanaa, the nomad, told me about his friend’s deception. He brought you an old horse that is not well suited for the expedition,” explains Taagii. “And why didn’t Ulaanaa tell us before handing over the money?” “He couldn’t. He’s afraid of his friend. He’s a strong man.” “I don’t know if I should believe that. These people are incredibly inventive when it comes to taking money out of the pockets of a gullible foreigner or cheating them. Does this have something to do with the Mongolian mentality? Or why do these people cheat in almost every transaction?” I ask our translator, who doesn’t quite know what to answer. “Ulaanaa wanted to sell us iron stakes for the horses, didn’t he?” “Yes, he’ll bring them soon,” Taagii replies. “Well, please call him and tell his friend, the swindler, to bring the right horse,” I instruct Taagii, although I realize how ridiculous my demand is.

Just an hour later, Ulaanaa actually turns up and apologizes for deceiving his companion. “Here are the iron stakes,” he then says and hands me the stakes with which we can stake our horses at night on the journey. I give him the agreed 20,000 tugrik (€13) and lo and behold, he doesn’t ask for anything. “Why don’t you just get your horse back?” says Ulaanaa, grinning cheekily across both cheeks. “What, we’re supposed to go there and steal our horse back?” I ask, puzzled. “No, it’s not stealing. It’s your horse. So you can go and get it,” replies the gifted rider. “If we turn up to get our horse, he’ll give us a good thrashing with his clan,” I think. “It’s only the women in the camp. He himself has gone to the country for two days,” translates Taagii, whereupon I feel my adrenaline levels soar. “Should we really go for it?” I ask Tanja. “Who knows, maybe that’s the custom here. I could imagine it,” she says relatively calmly. “That would be a real tour de force,” I think. “I would do it,” Taagii interrupts my thoughts. “What would you do?” “If you like, I’ll get the horse for you,” he suggests and my respect for him increases enormously. “You would really do that?” “Yes.” “And who will catch the light brown again. I saw how Ulaanaa caught him. It was a masterpiece.” “I’ll do it for you,” Ulaanaa surprisingly offers his help. “Okay Taagii, you get the old mare, take my saddle and ride with Ulaanaa to the yurt camp. Ulaanaa will catch it again. Then you leave the horse there and bring our animal here,” I decide. It doesn’t take long before Ulaanaa and Taagii are swallowed up by a cloud of dust. Only the hooves of the horses galloping away can be heard for a while.

20 minutes later, my cell phone rings. “Denis?” “Yes.” “The scammer’s wife is very annoyed. She doesn’t want to give up the horse.” “I realize that. Why are you telling me this?” “I wanted to know if I should bring it anyway? After all, it’s our horse.” “Bring it,” I say firmly. Five minutes later, the doorbell rings again. “Yes Taagii, what is it now?” “I just got off the phone with the owner of the horse. He’s very, very angry. He doesn’t want to give up his horse under any circumstances. Only if you pay 500,000 tugrik (€285).” “Tell him it’s not his horse, it’s ours. He can’t sell it twice. We agreed the purchase price with him. If he makes trouble, I’ll go to the police. We took photos of the money transfer and the good horse and we have witnesses.” “Okay, I’ll tell him everything. And if he still doesn’t want to give it up?” “Then bring it with you anyway.” “That’s a good decision Denis. I’ll definitely bring it,” Taagii replies and ends the conversation.

An hour later, Taagii appears in Naaraa’s garden with the beautiful horse. All those gathered celebrate this young man like a hero. We clap as if he had won the tennis match at Wimbledon. “And what did he say when you told him the story about the police?” “He didn’t care. He still wants 500,000 tugrik.” “Very well. Then call him again right away. If he brings us our money back tomorrow, he can have his horse back,” I decide. “Shortly afterwards, we learn that the swindler actually wants to come tomorrow to get his horse. “Maybe he won’t come at all,” says Taagii.

After a hearty lunch, we go to the market again to buy the horse equipment we still need. Above all, we need locks and chains for Naraa’s garden. It is not yet lockable and as we now have six horses, a dog and a horse and cart we need to secure our property. Our companions agree on the risk of theft. It is therefore essential to lock the shabby entrance door and the pitted gate to the garden. We arranged to meet Bilgee at the market. He actually turns up at the horse store and helps us to put together the equipment we still need. Before he says goodbye again, we arrange a meeting for tonight at 9pm.

Fight with consequences

Back at Naraa’s camp, I make my way to the unsightly outhouse. Although we’ve been here for some time now, I haven’t gotten used to it yet. But we are at the gateway to the wilderness. So outhouses are an unpleasant but only small precursor to this. “Deeennniiis!!!” Tanja suddenly yells. I forget what I’ve just done and rush out of the stink house. The landlord attacked our four-legged friend again and bit him. Another fight like I’ve only seen on television. The animals bite into each other so hard that Tanja’s and my pants are immediately splattered with blood. We try to pull our fighter away, but without the slightest chance. I kick again to get one of the two opponents to give up. No chance. It howls and barks. Baring your teeth. Saliva and blood flow. I kick again with all the strength in my body. “Ahhhh!” I yell out in pain, because I must have hit one of the two skulls with my foot. The pain goes through my bones. Now, also extremely angry, there are not just two dogs fighting, but two dogs and a human. Driven by adrenaline, I yank on Vierauge’s lead so hard that both dogs, weighing around 50 kilograms, fly through the air and roll over. The strong pull on the leash causes both fighters to tear their teeth out of their opponent’s fur, causing me to sprain a finger. Tanja and I stand there breathing heavily as if we had just taken part in a boxing match. My lungs rattle and my limbs ache. The black, scarred fighter from Naraa crawls under the veranda, whimpering and battered, and does not emerge for the next 12 hours. Our Tibetan herding dog, which according to our research is one of the most robust dog breeds in the world, seems to be smiling. Tail wagging, he looks at us and somehow doesn’t understand why we are so excited. We examine him for injuries, but apart from a few scratches we can’t find any major bite wounds.

Bilgee as a companion

Due to severe pain in my ankle, I now hobble to the goal with Taagii to prepare it for a break-in. At 21:00 Bilgee appears with a relative who speaks good English. The topic of money quickly comes up. “I can’t go below 500,000 Tugrik,” says the 51-year-old experienced nomad. “Sorry, but we can’t pay that. Why didn’t you tell us your salary expectations during our first conversation?” I ask. “Because I knew you had a second man in the game. I wanted to see how far you could get with him first.” “We’ve got another man in the game this time too, but we’d like to go with you,” I say, thinking of the carter and being stronger negotiators. We pay 250,000 Tugrik per month and can imagine a bonus of 50,000 Tugrik. This means that if you do a good job, we will pay you an extra 50,000 Tugrik after each month. Also, if everything goes according to plan, we will need a companion again next year for possibly four months after our hibernation. That means you don’t just have a paid job with a regular income for this year, but for a total of six months,” I explain, causing him to ponder the words. “That sounds fine to me. But I want the money in advance,” he demands. “I’m sorry. We don’t pay anything in advance. It’s nothing to do with you, but we’ve had bad experiences. The last prepayment just disappeared,” I reply, to which he laughs. “Fine, then you’ll pay me after the trip. I’m in. But we should buy a goat. I’ll prepare it to make dried meat for the trip,” he suggests. “No problem. We can discuss the details tomorrow. So you’re in?” “Yes.” “Are you sure?” “Definitely.” “Good, then we’re a team,” I say and shake his hand. Even if that often didn’t mean much in the past, I don’t want to give up seeing the good in people. Perhaps Bilgee is the man who will not disappoint us and perhaps he will save the honor of the Mongols who have cheated us. In the interests of fairness, we also decide to raise Ulzii’s salary to 300,000 Tugrik that same evening. So far, he has shown himself to be steadfast and loyal. We pay him 75,000 Tugrik for the first week. He is satisfied.

Then we hand out the whistles we bought in a toy store. They are intended to make all team members aware of the situation in the event of an emergency. In this context, we address the night watches. “Each of us has to keep a two-hour night watch to protect the horses from theft. This means, for example, that Tanja watches from 10:00 to 12:00, I from 12:00 to 2:00. Bilgee from 2:00 am to 4:00 am and Ulzii from 4:00 am to 6:00 am. The whole thing rotates, of course. The whistles are also for when there is something wrong with the horses. So the one on watch can wake the others,” we explain. Bilgee agrees with this. “Oh yes, we need to clarify that right from the start. Anyone who loses an animal during their shift doesn’t get paid,” adds Tanja. There is no argumentation on this point either. “What do you think? Should we start the night watch today?” I ask Bilgee. “In any case. It’s a full moon. Ideal light for stealing horses,” confirms our new man.

Then I grab a chair, a headlamp and my laptop and sit down on the small wooden terrace to write. This is how I keep my first watch. As I sit there writing, it’s starting to get fresh. The full moon wanes slightly. Not a cloud in the sky. The lights of the city shimmer below me. Dogs barking everywhere. The horses graze in front of me and snort from time to time. Our young guard dog is thankfully calm. He is lying under the horse-drawn cart and has given up barking incessantly at the horses for the moment. Naraa’s dog is still lying under the terrace. Every now and then I hear a soft whimper. Compassion stirs in me. “I hope he hasn’t hurt himself too badly,” I think. My foot and hand hurt. It looks like all three of us got hurt in that bad fight.

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