Urban Nomads

Magicjima is 9 years old. Her sister, Osorjima is 11 but significantly smaller. I sat in their ger and listened to a troubling story knowing I'd heard it before. This was the fourth Mongolian home I'd been in that day and it seemed everybody was in the same boat.

Mongolia is emerging from a 70-year affair with Russia . Often an abusive-dependent relationship, the country was left bereft of the huge financial grants Moscow had provided as well as access to the guaranteed market of Eastern Bloc shoppers. Mongolia had been artificially propped up but when the scaffolding was withdrawn in 1990, the country tumbled. It affected everybody.

For all the changes, this is still very much a nomadic empire. Mongolia 's migrating wanderers make up the majority of the country's population. Herdsmen have been crossing these mountain plains for millennia but once autumn arrives, thousands of families make their move: sheep and goats, horses and yak join the caravan in search of winter grasses. With Mongolia encased below freezing for seven months of the year, there is little here for the faint-hearted. It regularly reaches -40° but several unusually severe winters have obliterated the livestock of many herders. They need 200+ head to make it a viable existence. Most are way below that, in fact almost 90% of Mongolia 's nomadic herders struggle to make ends meet now. Desert sands compound the issue. They inexorably creep in and over what pasture remains and everyone realises it's a ceaseless war against nature and there will only be one winner.

With their culture disappearing, weary nomads are putting down roots in the city. They are looking for a new life but never quite manage to leave the old one behind them. Into the city they pour bringing their gers with them; those odd-looking portable wooden-framed tents that now make up Ulan Bator 's shanty towns. This is urbanisation Mongolian style. They used to bring their goats and horses too until the city council banned them!

So Magicjima and Osorjima hadn't had it easy. There was one bed for the whole family and on it their father was stretched out and snoring. The only window was the central hole in the roof. There was nothing to cover the ground. They lived in the dirt. At best, only 25% of the city receives piped water. Needless to say, none of it reached these shanty districts. These girls are just two of an estimated 200,000 malnourished kids in Mongolia . That's10% of the entire population. They are not classed as being among “the poor”. These are the very poor –those right on the edge who may or may not make it. They earn a few pennies picking up plastic bottles and reselling them but it's pittance. Sometimes there's a bit of fire wood to be collected and sold on. This family though was struggling to the point of having to burn their old clothes in the ramshackle oven that filled the middle of their ger. For me, this was a very long way from home.

UB, as it's known, is a pollution-ridden capital. The Russians built several immense power stations that to this day pipe boiling water around the city. The grimy smog they churn out stains the skyline. UB has become the girls' adopted home but they are not wanted here. The family relocated from the rural areas but they are unregistered in this city and as such are unable to access basic services. That means no health care, no education for the girls and no work for the parents. Nor can they register. Both parents are unemployed and unemployable. They need papers from previous employers but there haven't been any of those for a long time. And anyway, even if they did have a previous employer, he would require a letter from the current employer. I got the picture: the nomads are not wanted in UB.

The family had moved to UB in 2004. They had been herders in Aarkhangai, a place I had previously visited. It's 500kms west of UB, a forsaken and non-descript town whose life had gone when Russia withdrew its roubles. There was nothing there. Their animals were lost to the big winter freeze and they had come to UB trying to enrol the girls into State schools. That would have been a step forward for them but, unregistered, no one wanted them. Every door was shut. In fact, few would even talk to them. It's a tough cycle to break. If they couldn't go to school then they wouldn't read or write and who would ever employ them in that condition? And so the cycle goes on. Education and poverty are closely tied. So far as I could see, this was no life at all but the mother was determined to give her girls a chance at least and UB, they felt, was the best option the family had. The girls' mother, who can't write and who can only barely read herself, is philosophical about what might be achieved. If her kids can learn to count their own wages then at least they'll know when an employer is underpaying them!

My reason for visiting the home was to see how the girls were progressing. For the last few months they have been going to school every day, that is, they have been attending an ordinary state school though in a special parallel class. It's an extraordinary opportunity for them and Mongolian Christians are behind it all!

Literacy classes are being run for the likes of Magic and her sister and others who find themselves at the bottom of the pile in Mongolia . Over 70 kids in UB alone are now participating, some 500 all told across the country. All come from difficult homes perhaps with one or both of the parents jailed, dead or simply gone. All have either had to drop out of school or never began in the first place. Many are badly behaved. Some are mentally and/or physically disabled. Some have speech impediments - but this is a chance to change their lives! Mongolian believers have partnered with local governments and with the schools themselves to do something together for Magic and others like her. The Church covers the cost of a trained teacher. The school commits to providing a heated classroom and the government helps with pens, paper and maybe a few books. It might take a year or two but the goal is to eventually rehabilitate these kids back into the regular school programmes and able to cope in society.

In Magic's class, around 20 kids sit glued to their teacher. They spend their day forming letters and doing their sums. They learn some geography and do some cookery and then make their way home. For most children this would be routine. For these girls, it's special. I looked around their home. The husband was still right out of it. The fire was low and the cold breeze whistled around the circular room. The children's clothes had all seen better days. There were four girls all told. One was disabled and another still too young even for a nursery. She clung all over her weary mother all the while we chatted. The chance to get the girls educated had immeasurably changed the family's outlook. This was a ministry that was making a difference. They had nothing, it was clear, but as we talked about the chance for some schooling they told me “You can imagine how difficult it would be without it!”

In another home I was in, two boys, ten and thirteen, were being raised by their 68 year old grandmother. Her head was shaven and her eyes heavy with tears. The father would be in jail for another four years while the mother had disappeared a long time ago. There were holes all round the base of their tent where the chilled wind whipped in. Snow fell inside through the huge hole in the roof. The two boys had both been a part of the literacy classes the previous year and were now slotting into regular school. They could both read and write and would have a chance at getting a job later on. Looking at the boys she welled up with tears and told me “I feel so sorry for them. They hurt in their hearts for their father and I'm still looking and waiting for their mother.” This grandmother's pain was deep and genuine and yet this was one of the success stories and she knew it and thanked me profusely for any help given in setting up the classes.

Magic and the other children are part of an AsiaLink-sponsored project in Mongolia . The literacy classes are organised by local believers around the country so that not only the children, but their families are hearing (and seeing) the Gospel.