Origin and escape

Day: 168-172

Sunrise:
09:26/09:24

Sunset:
17:31/17:37

Total kilometers:
1281

Soil condition:
Ice, snow

Temperature – Day (maximum):
minus 21°C

Temperature – day (minimum):
minus 25°C

Temperature – Night:
minus 34°C

Latitude:
51°33’336”

Longitude:
099°15’341”

Maximum height:
1981 m above sea level

This morning welcomes us with snow flurries. As the snow has been falling from the sky since yesterday evening, the landscape around us looks covered in sugar. All traces of everyday life, such as the ground churned up by the reindeer, the paths from our yurt to log cabins one and two and to the tipis, lie under a white, clean blanket. Everyone is busy sweeping in front of their homes this morning. It doesn’t take long before the paths once again stretch like a web across our camp community.

“Knock! Knock!” Tsaya announces politely before she and Ultsan enter our yurt in the evening. “Come in!” we call out. I close my laptop and sit down on our wallan with a cup of tea, as I soon do every evening, while Ultsan sits down on one of the small folding chairs and Tsaya on the wooden chair. “We have something very special for you today,” says Tanja a little mysteriously. “Yes? What is it?” asks Tsaya, curious. “Do you like cocoa?” asks Tanja. “Cocoa. Oh my God. The last time I drank it was when I lived in the States. I would love to try a cup of it. And you, my darling? Do you like cocoa too?” she asks her Ultsan. “Tijmee” (“Yes”), he replies in eager anticipation. Tanja hands our guests each a large cup of steaming chocolate. “Oh, it’s so good,” Tsaya enthuses, sipping contentedly from her cup.

The light of a candle illuminates our yurt. We sit by the warming stove while barely visible ice crystals swirl through the air outside at minus 34 °C.

“It must have been hard for your grandparents and parents when you fled Russia. Did your father tell you about that time?” I ask, hoping to hear the story of his people from Ultsan. “Yes, the old people often talked about it. But to understand our escape from Russia, I have to digress a little into the past,” says Ultsan. “Gladly, we are very interested in the history of your people,” I reply. “Well then, you should know that the region where my people lived was ruled by the Mongols from the 13th to the 18th century. The center of our country was about 400 kilometers west of here on an elevated plateau enclosed by the Sajan and Tannu-Ola mountain ranges. The highest elevation in the Sayan Mountains is the Munku-Sardyk massif, located in the south-east of present-day Siberia, with a height of 3,491 meters. It is a wonderful country where nature has gifted us with an abundance of hunting prey.

During the Chinese revolution in 1911, when the Manchu dynasty finally collapsed, the Mongols seized the opportunity to declare their independence from China. As a result, the territory of Uryanchai, as the region we lived in was called at the time, was granted independence. As early as 1914, the 170,500 square kilometer part of the country became a Russian protectorate and during the Russian civil war from 1918-1920, we, the Tuvan people, took advantage of the Russians’ weakness to declare our independence.” “But the Tuvins don’t just consist of the Tsataan, do they? Aren’t there different ethnic groups that live in this region and lived there before you fled?” “That’s right. Almost half of the people living there are Russians.” “I’ve read that the other half of the Tuvins are a Turkic-speaking people with a Tibetan-Buddhist religion. You, on the other hand, have your own language and religion?” “No, we speak the same language, we just have a different dialect.” “And a different religion?” “Yes, our religion is shamanism,” explains the young and intelligent man. “Then what is the history of the country? I hope you know it up to the present day?” “Sure, I’ve read about my people and, as I said, I’ve heard a lot from my father.

After our independence in 1920, the
People’s Republic of Tannu Tuva was proclaimed. Our country then came under Soviet influence. It only became catastrophic for us in 1944, when our Republic of Tannu Tuva was assigned to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics as an autonomous administrative region.” “Why? What did the Russians do to you to cause your tribe to flee?” I ask. “The Russians had long been making great efforts to settle the nomadic tribes. They didn’t like people wandering around uncontrolled. For us, on the other hand, the idea of settling down was completely against our lifestyle and attitude, which is why we retreated further and further into the forests with our reindeer.

When we got wind that we were to go into the Second World War for the Russians and they wanted to put all those fit for military service into uniforms, about a third of the tribe decided to flee to the south. We wanted nothing to do with war and fighting. The escape was only successful if we rounded up our animals and set off as quickly as possible without anyone getting the chance to find out. My grandfather even left his younger sister behind, who was at school at the time of the escape. So the families were separated. Parents left their children behind, brothers their sisters. It was a tragedy. Many of our people didn’t want to flee either and stayed. That’s why our people are still separated today. Even 67 years after our escape, nothing has changed. My grandfather, for example, never saw his sister again until he died.” “It’s a really sad story. Were you not able to go back after your escape? I mean years later after the regime in Russia had changed?”

“As far as I know, my ancestors didn’t even know that they had crossed the border into Mongolia. This happened more or less by accident. When I ride my reindeer through the mountains today, I discover the remains of old camps in the most unconventional places. My ancestors hid with their tepees behind rocky outcrops, in ravines, on mountain slopes and in the dense forests of the taiga. They were sure they were still on Russian soil. It was only when the borders between Mongolia and Russia were remeasured in the 1950s that they realized they were in Mongolia. This made it impossible for them to return home. They would have had to cross the border illegally again. Without passports and proof that they came from Russia, it was impossible.

Unfortunately, the Mongolians didn’t want us either. They even tried to deport us. Suddenly we were a people without a country. It wasn’t until 1956 that the policy in Mongolia changed and my people were granted Mongolian citizenship, which was important to them.” “So you are now a people separated by a border?” “We are.” “What happened then? I mean after you were officially Mongolians?” “Under the communist administration at the time, the village of Tsagaan Nuur was founded. Our children were forced to go to school there. What the Russians had failed to do, the Mongolian government put into practice. They forced us to settle down. Simply because our children had to go to school, the parents could no longer move around with their herds. Only a few of us still lived in the taiga and looked after our reindeer. That was the end of our thousand-year-old culture.” “But many of you later returned to the taiga and in summer almost every Tuwa lives with the reindeer herds again. How did that happen?” “It was due to the collapse of the Soviet Union. That meant there was no more work in Mongolia. Everything collapsed. There was nothing to eat. We had to starve. As a result, many of us moved back into the forests. In winter, as you can see for yourselves, only a few of us live out here. Most of us stay in Tsagaan Nuur because of our children. In summer, however, when the children have their long vacations, we live in a big camp like we used to. It’s a beautiful sight when at least 17 tipis are united and the hearth fires smoke from the pointed roofs,” Ultsan explains. “Phew, thanks for the story. A long ordeal your people had to go through. I hope the future is kind to you and that you have a fantastic time ahead of you from now on,” I reply. “Well, unfortunately, times are not rosy. As you’ve already noticed, there’s a lot going wrong. Most of the tourists’ money goes into other people’s pockets. Hardly any of it benefits our people. The government makes money from us and advertises the reindeer people, the Tsaatan, in tourist brochures. They make us promises and break them again and again. We often feel exploited and abused.” “Yes, we’ve seen a lot in the past few weeks,” I say thoughtfully.

“But, although not everything is going the way we want it to, today is decidedly better than back then. My ancestors were destitute. During their time on the run and the years of hiding, they had nothing. There were no clothes. They wore animal skins and our tipis were covered with animal skins and scraps of cloth. Apart from meat, there was nothing to eat. No vegetables, no sweets, simply nothing.

Even in the early 90s it was still like that.

The first foreigners visited us by helicopter. I can tell you, it caused a lot of confusion. First all the reindeer ran into the mountains, followed by the dogs and children. We were all terrified of this noisy flying metal box. It took a long time for the children to reappear. Then the dogs slowly ventured back into the camp, only the reindeer stayed hidden. When the foreigners gave the children sweets, the spell was broken. We had never eaten anything like it in our lives. It tasted strange but wonderful. Years later, when the second helicopter landed, we all ran away again.” “In the same order?” I joke. “In the same order. But the strangers gave us sweets again. That’s when I saw the first black person. I thought he had painted his face. Today I know that it was Americans who visited us. Oh man, at that time we lived not far from the Russian border. Those were really wild times.

We look forward to your comments!