Naraa and Tuya in the best possible hands

Day: 408

Sunrise:
06:26

Sunset:
19:42

Total kilometers:
2468

Soil condition:
Grass

Temperature – Day (maximum):
23 °C

Temperature – day (minimum):
20 °C

Temperature – Night:
minus 1 °C

Latitude:
48°55’433”

Longitude:
103°39’440”

Maximum height:
1380 m above sea level

Today, too, autumn presents us with blue skies and 26 °C in the sun. I drink black tea with milk for breakfast. Tanja and Bilgee enjoy their coffee. We are in good spirits, joking and laughing a lot when one of the Chinese mopeds with a displacement of 150 cubic centimeters rattles up. The man, dressed in Deel and traditional shoes, puts his goat on the side stand, hobbles over to us and settles down on a horse blanket under the canopy. After the usual tea, a few cookies and a chat, he says, “I’m interested in your mare, the foal and the light brown gelding there.” “What are the horses worth to you?” I ask, trying to find out how much he is willing to pay. “How much do they cost?” asks the man, who is about sixty years old and introduces himself as Ilhauchauu. I look questioningly at Bilgee, who avoids my gaze. Sure, he can’t take our side in front of his friend. I think for a few minutes, decide to play a little poker and say; “600,000 Tugrik (364,- €) for Naraa and Tuya and 650,000 Tugrik (394,- €) for Tenger. But we will only sell the horses if you don’t take them to the slaughterhouse. That is the basic requirement for the deal. We know that we get between 700,000 (424,- €) and 800,000 Tugrik (485,- €) per horse if we leave them to the butcher. However, our animals are excellent mounts. We owe them our lives because they have carried us through your country for a year and we owe them the extension of their lives in return.” Ilhauchauu looks me in the eye for a few seconds. “Have I overstepped the mark with my asking price?” a thought flies through my mind. “I’ll come back tomorrow and have a look at the horses’ teeth. If they’re okay, we’ll talk about the price. If the teeth are bad, I won’t buy the horses.” “Why don’t you look at the teeth now?” I ask, wondering. “There’s time for that tomorrow too,” he replies. Ilhauchauu says goodbye with a smile on his face. “See you tomorrow!” I call after him and am pleased not to have scared him off with my asking price.

In the afternoon, Tzolaa comes to visit us again with her children. The kids want to ride. Riding is also something special for Mongolian city children. And on such famous horses as Naraa and Sar, at least the children talk as if they had not been on an expedition with Tanja and Denis but on one of Genghis Khan’s conquests. Tanja and Bilgee later take the opportunity to go to Erdenet. Meanwhile, I hold down the fort in the camp, look after the horses, water and tipple them, do a bit of washing, charge our batteries, cook for myself and Mogi, wash my hair, type our experiences into the laptop and serve guests who make themselves comfortable in our awning and want to know about our trip. As soon as the last visitor has left me, two women stroll towards the tent. Afraid of Mogi, they stop 100 meters from our camp. “The dog likes people! Come closer!” I shout. Giggling, they too settle down under the canopy. “This is for Tanja and you,” they say, handing me a plastic bottle full of fresh milk. “Thank you so much,” I accept the gift. “Dsügeer, dsügeer” (no thanks), they reply with a laugh. Now that I know how quickly news gets around in a valley, no matter how big it is, I’m not surprised that the women know our names. They say they are relatives of Bilgee’s friend Boldoo. “You came by just to bring us the milk?” I wonder. “No, we wanted to talk to you a little. Apart from that, we’re looking for herbs in this part of the valley,” they answer openly and show me a jar of wild caraway and blue flowers that are said to be good for colds.

After the two women have left, I enjoy the peace and solitude in the last camp of our Mongolia expedition. Because I’ve run out of water due to all the tea-making, I walk to the nearby stream. To make it easier to replenish our water supplies in future, I dig a hole about 20 centimetres deep in the stony stream bed with my hands. Then I go back into the tent to heat water for our dinner on the petrol stove. Tanja and Bilgee appear with the first drops of rain.

At dinner we talk about the horse sale again. “If Ilhauchauu buys Tenger, I will buy him back from Ilhauchauu next year. But at the moment I don’t have the money,” says Bilgee. Tanja and I look at each other in amazement. “How do you not have any money?” I ask, as we still owe him 600,000 tugriks of his salary. “Well, I don’t have any money. I’ll find another job and save up the money for Tenger.” “You still get two months’ salary from us when you worked for us in the taiga,” says Tanja. “But I’ve lost Od. I get nothing from you.” In fact, a year ago we made an agreement not to pay a salary in the event of a horse theft for which we were responsible. This means that the person whose horse is stolen during the guard shift is not entitled to payment. We made this arrangement to prevent one of our companions from sleeping during his shift. But since Bilgee always did his job conscientiously and nobody assumed that there were horse thieves in the remote, deserted taiga, Tanja and I never thought about docking Bilgee’s wages because of Od’s theft. “You have 600,000 tugrik (€364) and you can buy whatever you want for it,” I say, surprised at Bilgee’s honesty. “If you really want to pay me, I’d like to buy Naraa and Tuya.” “They’re yours,” says Tanja, smiling good-naturedly. “Me?” “Yes, the two of them are your horses from now on,” I confirm very happily, knowing that Naraa and Tuya are in the best possible hands with this change of fate. Bilgee can hardly believe his luck. It left him speechless. Tanja and I also can’t get a word out for minutes. Bilgee’s sincerity is in stark contrast to what we often experience in this country. We are ashamed. Since Khurgaa and Bumbayr left us in a hurry at Lake Khuvsgul, we have met very good and hospitable people, with a few exceptions. Even though I have already written about this, it bears repeating. We experience a different Mongolia where honesty and sincerity still exist. In which there are people who are reliable and stand by their word. Who would have thought it?

“We have to celebrate,” says Tanja, opening a large bottle of beer. Bilgee laughs and is happy. The mood is extremely cheerful again. We are relieved. As it looks at the moment, we will find slaughter-safe homes for all the horses.

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