Mongolian Wrestling Tournament

     In celebration of the Mongolian Independence Day, 250 wrestlers of many different shapes and sizes from many parts of Mongolia arrived at the Wrestling Palace ready to battle newbies, Falcons, Elephants, Lions, Champions and higher level Champions.  These are various levels of honor one can attain by winning a certain number of matches.  A Mongolian friend of mine scored tickets for Pam, myself, two other American colleagues and another Mongolian friend from school.  The arena looked like a giant ger with its round shape and sunlit center.  There were certain sections set up for dignitaries, a section for the band, and the rest for the wrestlers and spectators.
     As we sat and asked our Mongolian friends questions about what we were going to experience, guys starting taking their clothes off exposing superman-type briefs and shirtless sleeves both tightened with ropes which we would soon understand why.  On top of their heads they wore the traditional hat with the pole-like protrusion on top with some having a metal emblem on the front part that we learned informed people of the wrestling level they'd achieved.  The wrestlers wore leather boots with wool inserts. The soles of the boots had, what looked like, thin leather rope on the front and back of the boot.  We were told it was used for traction.
     The crowd came alive as the referees began to line up, and a parade of wrestlers marched on to the arena floor forming a circle.  These were only the most accomplished wrestlers, which numbered probably about 100.  The Mongolian national anthem was played by the band, and then all the wrestlers were introduced.  To those of us struggling to learn the language, it sounded like everyone was named Andy.  We were then treated to a special wrestling song done by horse head fiddlers and throat singers.
     After the rousing song, many of the wrestlers left the floor.  Those that stayed prepared for their first bout.  There were 12 referees dressed in either blue or red.  Red handled one side of the arena and blue the other.  Each wrestler stood by one referee with a hand on the referee's shoulder and then strutted in half arcs around the referee while waving to the crowd.  The referee then removed the wrestler's hat and held onto it.  The wrestlers then went to the flag pole and moved in a way that resembled a bird flapping its wings followed by stooping and slapping the inside of their thighs twice and their hamstrings once.  It reminded me of watching New Zealand's All Blacks rugby team try to psyche out their opponent before the game.
     The wrestlers then headed to the center of the floor to find their opponents.  Without any fanfare, the wrestlers hooked up and started their bout.  It was like watching a Ringling 3 ring circus.  There were probably 20-30 wrestlers all grappling at the same time.  The object is to get the opponent to touch the floor with any part of his body other than hands and feet.  There were no weight, height or ability categories.  At times you could see something that looked like a reenactment of David and Goliath or Jabba the Hut and Luke Skywalker.  There were all kinds of strategies used from rope-a-dope to rams locking horns to a blitzkrieg.  This was a single elimination tournament.  When a person won, he would raise his arms while the loser would untie the rope on his sleeves and then duck under the champ's right armpit who would slap the loser on the rump.  This happened only if the loser was a wrestler of lower rank than the winner.  If I higher ranked wrestler lost that person would not go under the arm pit.  Exactly what he does is still unclear.  The winner would then see his referee, who would place the wrestler's hat back onto his head, and then go over by the flag pole and do the bird dance again.  The loser had to go and find the referee and retrieve his hat and head back to the stands to get dressed, no phone booths.
     Some of the bouts lasted only a minute or less while others went on for 15 - 20 minutes.  Wrestlers seemed to agree to take breaks and then lock up again when ready.  If the match seemed to last too long, the referee would say something to the men and slap them on the butt to get the match over with.  The wrestlers grabbed each other's superman pants and the ropes holding the sleeves in place.  This was tough material.  We did not see any accidental bun shots due to loose ropes.  Must have been great knots!  Guys were picked up by their shorts, spun around by the ropes on their sleeves, and yanked by the hands grabbing at the limited material on their bodies.  There was even instant replay to determine who hit the floor first, which we saw on one occasion.

Grabbing on.

The Wrestling Palace

In the stands behind us getting ready.  No it's not me.

According to my Mongolian friends this is the emblem of the elephant.

As explained to me this singing is the wrestling anthem.

I thought the big guy would finish the skinny guy quickly but he did eventually win that round and the next 2.

This is the bird dance that I forgot to shoot video of.

    This was a long affair which I didn't get a chance to complete watching because Pam needed to use a restroom and the only women's room was locked and no one had a key supposedly.  Prior to this a buddy and I decided to choose a bout that was in progress or about to start and pick a wrestler to root for and lay a beer on the line.  We apparently amused a number of Mongolians in our area as we cheered and groaned depending on the outcome of the match.  The tournament is followed by a post analysis and highlights that we can remember at a local pub.
     There are 2 other holidays that have wrestling tournaments, Tsagaan Tsar and Nadem.  We'll plan on being there with a keener eye on the talent to wager those beers on.   Hopefully, there will be an unlocked women's bathroom.              

International Week at ISU

We now have our first International Week under our belts.  It was a great experience and definitely an event that schools back in the states could benefit from.  The week is designed to look at and celebrate different cultures.  The week started with an international potluck at school that would put the most diverse mall food court to shame.  The school had tables arrange based on geographical location.  Families and staff of 25-30 nationalities cooked, baked and brought foods from their respective cultures.  There was Vegemite from Australia, kimbob from S. Korea, American brownies (not those kind), Peruvian, Kuwaiti, and various African country delights, just to name only a few.  Anyone trying to taste something from each     country probably would have put on 10 lbs.  Monday was host country day when everyone was expected to wear something from Mongolia.  The last blog gave a glimpse of what some people looked like but the sight of seeing more than 300 people dressed in various Mongolian attire was one of those pinch moments when the question is asked, "Is this for real?" The day started in the gym with a talk by the director about the purpose of International Week to the masses.   The assembly included a performance by a throat singer and horse head fiddler and a contortionist who had people watching with their mouths ajar.   Wednesday,  I joined the PE staff and ran international games.  The first group numbered about 40 so they leg wrestled (Canada, according to the Canadian PE teacher), a game from Denmark that required students to try and push an opponent off a mat without using their hands and the always popular hand slapping game that requires one person to get their opponent to move their feet.  The next session for the 6th graders was a varied form of bombardment courtesy of Denmark that kept them running, throwing and, of course, complaining about rules violations.  Thursday was the parade of nations that parents were invited to.  Students and staff arrived at school dressed in clothing from their home countries or clothing from one of their parent's nationalities.  As Americans we looked pitiful compared to many of the other nationalities traditional costumes.  We needed a few native American outfits.  Students and staff from each country were called onto the stage where a projected image of their flag and their national anthem played while everyone cheered.  It was a moment that brought lumps to throats and tears to eyes.  Friday was reflection day when students discussed or wrote about the importance of acknowledging, celebrating and appreciating diversity.    What a refreshing experience coming from a country that tends to value uniformity.  

The Shopping Spree

     This week is International Week at school which requires every staff member to wear something Mongolian on the Monday.  This was the incentive to go now and acquire some stylish traditional (or maybe not) garb, continue to practice my Mongolian and sharpen my bargaining skills.  I arranged to meet a Mongolian friend of mine, Bold, to show me what to look for so that I could develop critical eyeballs.  Two other colleagues joined us in the quest at the Black Market.
     As we made our way past the caged dogs and cats, leather jackets, jeans, camel wool garments and clothing knockoffs, we looked like ducklings following the mother duck.  Bold is a BIG guy who's been a wrestler in the past.  We snaked our way to the deel section and eyeballed a kaleidoscope of colors, fabrics and styles that ranged from the very traditional to short jackets and vests.  As soon as we stopped to look at one, a helpful person began to pull the article off the hanger and motion for us to put it on.  As the deel's final buttons were fastened and the hand held mirror put in front of us, Mongolian passerbys would stare and often times give a thumb's up.  The Mongolian clothing row is a continual line of items, so it's very difficult to determine who owns how many meters of clothing in the row.  The sight of the foreigners trying on deels became even more interesting as our numbers increased when 2 more colleagues showed up.  Bold was great as he clarified prices and negotiated.  There was never any lack of people giving their opinion of how we looked.
     When we all had our items in hand, it was off to the hat section of the market.  The mother duck headed out and the dutiful ducklings followed in a row jostling through the crowds trying to keep Bold in sight.  The hat purchases were almost a replay of the deel shopping experience.  As we tried on the hats, many eyes fixed themselves on us followed by a number of smiles.
     The final stop was to purchase the proper length of non-slick material to use as a belt with our deels.  The 5 foreigners stood around as Bold surveyed the massive amounts of material and listened to each owner laud their goods.  Bold pointed out the differences in the various materials and then sized us up as to how many meters each of us would need.  A short conversation with one of the sellers brought out the scissors quickly, and we were on our way ready to give our best impression of Chinggis Khan or see if we could blend in with the locals.
     Pam was busy during this excursion so, having had the experience, the next weekend I led her and a group of friends to the Black Market to get prepared for Mongolian day at school.  The weather was about 20 degrees colder, so the process was a bit faster but with the same results; everyone ended up with some great looking clothing.

 My buddy Bold

       ISU staff members, Sheena (Ireland), Denze and Toocksa

Name that baby Mongolian style

Hi All,     This was meant to be written before the last post but...  About a month ago a colleague of mine's wife gave birth and I asked what the baby's name is.  His reply, "The baby has no name.  That will be decided in a couple of weeks."  My blank look must have spurred the conversation on.  My friend, Bold, explained that his mother and mother-in-law needed to be at the house and he would invite family to the naming moment.  He also said that the naming responsibility use to lie with the father but a change was in the wind and other family members could have the honor of giving baby "no-name" a moniker.
     My further questions must have prompted the invitation that Pam and I received to be at the baby naming event.  We checked in with Mongolian staff to find out what was appropriate to take as a gift and found that the gifts were really no different than in the States.  Baby clothes, money, disposable diapers and toys were some of the suggestions.
     Baby naming day came and we found ourselves in an old Russian-built apartment filled with wonderful smells, both grandmothers, Bold's immediate family and some brothers and sisters.  We sat in a small living room trying out our Mongolian on the new grandmothers while drinking milk tea and eating sweets.  Fortunately a few family members spoke some English so we all developed a sweat trying to communicate. After some more family arrived it was time to name the nameless.
     Each family member in Bold's immediate family who wanted to submitted a name on a piece of paper that was then buried in a bowl of rice.  Bold then sifted through the rice and pulled out baby nameless's name.  We think Bold's choice of names was drawn.  He then whispered the baby's name to the baby along with well wishes and a kiss and then announced to everyone the baby's name which I can't remember.  Besides the aging process making remembering more difficult Mongolian full names add another 3 difficulty levels to the recall game.  The baby was then passed around to the grandmothers first who repeated the whispering of the baby's name to the baby followed by well wishes and then gifts were placed on top of the kid.  Fortunately there were no plastic bags.
     As the pile of gifts mounted and the baby disappeared from sight the baby's brother cleared the sightline and the whispering of the name, kissing, well wishes and gift piling continued.  Pam and I felt very honored when the baby was handed to each of us.  We whispered away in English and considered it the child's first English lesson.  After the baby was held by everyone he was obviously worn out and was retired to the bedroom to contemplate all the well wishes in dreamland.
     Next, the food was brought out.  It was wonderfully prepared by their Philippine chef who works at their ger camp during the summer.  There was traditional Mongolian soup with mutton and a chicken soup along with baked chickens, chicken fingers, potato chips, soda and salads topped off with an assorted bowl of candies.  We were encouraged to continue attempting the various Mongolian words of the things we were eating.  Needless to say I am going to need many more meals before I have these words down.  As more family came and the space got tighter Pam and I decided to leave realizing we had just shared in a very special event.