Last days at Tuwacamp – Called to be a shaman

Day: 314-317

Sunrise:
05:09/05:07

Sunset:
21:32/21:35

Total kilometers:
1361

Soil condition:
Grass

Temperature – Day (maximum):
9° C/23 °C

Temperature – day (minimum):
4° C/19 °C

Temperature – Night:
minus 7° C/9 °C

Latitude:
51°39’155”

Longitude:
099°21’977”

Maximum height:
1858 m above sea level

Summer seems to be slowly winning the battle against winter. Every day it gets a little warmer. The thermometer climbs to 23 °C on some days and only drops to minus 7 °C at night. Still remarkable for the beginning of June, but we are confident that we will soon be enjoying plus degrees at night too.

The last days in the Tuwacamp pass quietly. Thankfully without any incidents, dramas or unforeseen events. At least until now. We use the time to trim our horses’ manes. The Tuwa say this is important because of the ticks and the coming heat.

Ultsan provides us with plenty of elk, gazelle and ibex meat. All hunters have returned successfully. To be given meat without being asked means to have become a member of the tribe. The most important food is shared with us according to tribal custom. We are accepted. We are also visited every day again. This is certainly due to the fact that many of the families have set up their tipis next to ours. A few days ago we were the outpost of the community, but now we are surrounded by tents. So the peace and quiet is over.

In the evening we are admitted to another shaman’s ritual. We even get permission to document the beginning of his dance. Another sign of the privilege we now enjoy. So that the spirit is not disturbed by the flash, Gamba’s sister Buyantogtoh asks us to stop taking photos a little later. I immediately put the camera to one side and watch the fascinating ritual. At 1:30 a.m. we ask Gamba’s son Sansar, who acts as a kind of master of ceremonies with Buyantogtoh, to leave the tipi. Shortly afterwards, we crawl into our sleeping bags. “Do dong! Do dong! Do dong!”, the mystical sounding drumbeats accompany us to sleep. When I wake up briefly at 4:30 in the morning, I can still hear the drumbeats.

The next day we start by saying goodbye to the individual families. We would like to thank you for the unforgettable time, the hospitality and the welcome into your community. As we are the first Europeans to have admitted them into their midst, we are aware of the honor. We give small gifts such as candles, perfume, tea and tobacco. The shy Suren doesn’t look at me when she speaks. No wonder, because ever since I called her a beautiful woman at the New Year’s party under the influence of a few glasses of vodka, she has been teased and made fun of incessantly by all the Tuwa. The old, toothless Suren will probably have to endure this mockery for the rest of her life. “We will leave the day after tomorrow,” Tanja explains to her in Mongolian and continues, “Bilgee will leave us in Tsagaan Nuur. Because of the horse theft problem, we are looking for a new horseman in the village. Then we continue to Khatgal and Mörön. In Mörön, Bilgee wants to join us again. He will bring his two children Orgio and Husle with him. We then want to cover the rest of the distance to Erdenet together. At least that’s the plan.” Suren understands Tanja and nods. “What are you doing with your chainsaw? I could use it,” she asks. Tanja tries to ignore her question in Mongolian style, but the otherwise shy Suren doesn’t let up. Tanja avoids the question again and hands her a thermal undershirt and I give her three candles. Suren lays the small gifts, which seep into the desert sand like tiny drops of water, to one side. We say a friendly goodbye. Suren doesn’t know that we promised the chainsaw to Tsaya and Ultsan a long time ago. How were we supposed to explain this to her without sowing resentment? Apart from that, she has a 30-year-old, strong stepson. If Nyam Dalai didn’t drink so much vodka, he would not only be able to buy new clothes and alcohol supplies, but also buy his old stepmother a chainsaw with which he could prepare wood for the harsh winter. Meanwhile, he prefers to hang around the camp for months without lifting a finger.

Ultsan asked me yesterday if I would send him a headlamp from Germany, so I took the opportunity to talk to him and Tsaya. “A headlamp like this is very expensive. Shipping and customs are also expensive. We left you a stove, goggles, chainsaw and a lot more for over 700,000 Tugrik (€400). I hope you’re happy with that?” “But yes,” they both reply. “It’s not possible for us to give every member of the tribe the same gifts as you. But each of your people received gifts from us. We want to leave you as friends and keep you in our hearts. Should any of the Tuwa be unhappy at the end, I would ask you to remind them of what we have done for the tribe and what a wonderful time we had together. The most important part of an encounter is the first meeting and the farewell. If both are positive, positive memories remain, sometimes even for the rest of your life. This is a wonderful treasure,” I explain. Ultsan and Tsaya, who are now also living just a few meters away from us in their tipi, nod. “Are you coming back?” asks Ultsan. “I don’t know. It’s a small world, but there’s still a long way to go,” I reply. “You’ll definitely be back,” Tsaya is sure.

Called to be a shaman

19:00. We seek out the baby reindeer calling for their mothers and sit down on a tree trunk to enjoy the warm light shining through the trunks of the thin larch trees. Purvee, Tsaya, Monkoo,
Buyantogtoh and Puntsel’s daughter are busy milking their reindeer. Now that they have offspring, this is possible again. They can currently extract 200 milliliters per cow per day to make white tea. Later, we are told, it is also used to make cheese.

As the warm yellow sun hides behind the mountain range to the west, we spontaneously head for the Saintsetseg tipi. “Saijn bajna uu” (“Good day”) is how we greet the shaman, who is just taking a hungon (traditional bread) out of the cannon oven. As soon as we have settled down on the low bed, she offers us her fresh bread, which she cuts into slices with a knife. She doesn’t use a chopping board, but her knee with the old, greasy Deel hanging over it. “Mmm, delicious,” we praise, while Saintsetseg cleans two small porcelain bowls with a piece of old paper and pours us some milk tea.

“Although you visited us several times a day throughout the winter, we were unable to have a deeper conversation due to our limited knowledge of Mongolian. It’s nice that Tsaya, who we just met while milking, agreed to translate some of our questions,” says Tanja. “Tijmee”, (yes) she replies with a shy smile. “We are of course interested in you as a person, but also in your schmanistic activities,” says Tanja. “Tijmee,” she replies again in a friendly manner. “A good friend in Germany is also a shaman. That’s the reason why I know something about shamanism. But we can understand if you don’t want to answer all the questions. It’s okay for us if a question is too personal or you can’t or aren’t allowed to answer because of the gods,” Tanja introduces the conversation. “Tijmee.” “We have traveled to many countries and talked to palm readers, aura readers, gurus, sadhus in India, Nepal and Sri Lanka. We talked to monks, lamas, shamans and priests in Tibet, South America and Africa. In Australia we met people who channeled other beings. Each of these people had their own purpose and gift. It is also very interesting for us to learn about the ancient shamanism of the Tuwa.” “Tijmee.” “Every year has a special energy. Do you have a feeling about the year 2012?” Saintsetseg responds with a long silence. Then she says, “I think it’s going to be a tough year.” “Tough year?” “Tijmee.”

Some shamans have a power animal that protects them. Do you have one?” “An eagle.” “Did you choose the eagle yourself?” “Ügüj, (no) it came to me.” “In a dream?” I ask. “In a dream.” “My power animal is the bear. When I’m scared, he’s with me to protect me,” Tanja explains. “We live in the world here and the spirits and gods in the world beyond. Do you have a twin or a friend in the other world there to help you?” “Your questions are a bit strange. She can’t answer that. I think that confuses her,” says Tsaya, who often adds her own opinion during her translations over the last few months and sometimes answers questions from her point of view. “There is no other world for her. It’s the spirit that goes into them. We don’t know where this spirit lives,” Tsaya explains. “Hm, okay, then I’ll ask something else,” says Tanja. “Why don’t you ask how she became a shaman,” Tsaya suggests. “Okay. How did you become a shaman?” asks Tanja. “I was 37 years old when I saw the first signs of the power coming to me. I saw a shamanic drum in my visions or heard drum beats. I then met one of my future teachers who told me that I had been chosen to become a shaman.” “Did you see the drum during the day or at night? When did you have these visions?” I ask. “When I was asleep, I heard the sound of a Jew’s harp.” “Hm, are these the signs that are enough to be called to be a shaman?” “If you had a shaman in your family, you know the signs.” “And there were shamans in your family?” “Tijmee. My father’s mother was a shaman and my mother’s father was also a shaman. They both came from a strong shamanic generation. They had six children. One of the children had to become a shaman. However, parents cannot choose who continues shamanism. Only the spiritual world can make that choice. She chose me. My mother was not a shaman. Nevertheless, she had a Jew’s harp made of a very special wood that she played.”

“What do you do with your gift as a shaman? Do you also heal people?” Tanja asks. “Sometimes people come to me whose herds of animals are not reproducing. Or their children are constantly falling ill. In these cases, I help people and fix their problems.” “You do that with the help of the gods and spirits of the afterlife?” “Often just through my gaze.” “Do you also help with special herbs and medicines?” asks Tanja. “Ügüj.” “I prepare a mixture of different plants. People can rub themselves with this energy powder to wash themselves.” “Do you also smoke special plants like Puntsel does?” “Ügüj. “I collect flowers in nine different colors. I use them to wash my hair.” “That’s nice. Do you collect the flowers in spring?” “When the flowers are in bloom.”

“Where does your teacher live?” I ask. “He died.” “Died? When?” “A few weeks ago.” “That’s terrible. Don’t you still have to finish your training?” “I have an uncle who is a shaman. His name is Dabaayaf. I can ask him. And the great shaman Gana, who lives in Ulan Bator and who cured the English boy of autism, will also teach me if I have any questions.” “So you can finish your training?” “Tijmee.” “Do you have to go to these masters to ask your questions?” I want to know. “Tijmee.” “When are you going to go there?” “Before the moon gets old, I’ll go there.” “In which part of the month are you allowed to hold rituals?” I ask. “In the first half of the lunar calendar.”

“When will your training be finished?” “Soon.” “What did you think when you knew you had been chosen as a shaman?” “I was a little anxious.” “I can understand that.” “Is it difficult to be a shaman?” I ask. “Oh yes. Very difficult.” “What’s difficult?” Saintsetseg ponders. No answer. “Is it a big responsibility?” asks Tanja. “Tijmee. I take on the responsibility of responsibility. That’s what makes it difficult.”

“All people are here on earth to learn. Why do you think it is so difficult for us humans to evolve?” “Because we don’t respect what’s around us. We don’t respect Mother Earth enough.”

“What do you like better? The old days or today?” asks Tanja. “I like the old days better.” “Why?” “Because the products came from Russia and not China. The quality was much better.” “What’s your favorite dish?” “Buuz, hi, hi, hi.” “Puntsel and Purvee also like buuz best,” says Tanja. “What is your greatest wish?” “My dreams are endless.” “Maybe you can tell us one of them?” Silence.

“When you’re old, do you want to live in Tsagaan Nuur?” “Tijmee. Then I won’t have to collect wood or melt snow anymore. Hi, hi, hi.”

We look forward to your comments!