August 3rd
Basically, it was family playing and hanging out until we
got the car to go back to UB. Nothing really noteworthy, although I had a lot
of fun playing with the kids, picking them up and giving them “horsey rides”
and the like.
August 4th
I woke up at 6:30 and packed my bags to go off with ML to
the country side. I had been told to
bring a sleeping bag, a deel, and warm clothing. I knew that Khulan and TS
would be there, but otherwise, I knew nothing of what would be coming up in the
next two days, just that it was big and only happened once a year. I packed my Mongolian deel and put on my
Tibetan chuba, put on good boots, packed a wool sweater and a jacket, my
sleeping bag, fully charged camera battery, new camera card and my solar
charger for my phone and waited to hear from ML. ML came to pick me up at around 7:15 and
drove me over to his place.
We came inside his home where another shaman, HT, was
sitting with his mother. His mother had
made Khuushuu for breakfast. We ate
Khuushuur and drank tea while ML made his own preparations. He got dressed in a
beautiful dark brown deel with navy blue lining. He also wore a traditional Mongolian leather
hat with fur flaps and a knotted top. We
went out to ML’s ger and were soon joined by several of ML’s disciples. One of
them was a tall young man with a buzz cut and a shy smile. He asked HT to put on a traditional cream
colored deel. Realizing he had forgotten
a hat, the young man was forced to wear a white, lacy, women’s sun hat. This young man, “Damba”, was the newest
shaman initiate. Today would be the day
he would become a shaman.
A white khadag was laid across his hands and he held in his
right hand a silver bowl full of milk.
ML sat on his cushions and Damba knelt in front of him and recited a
long ritual speech. Clearly the speech had to be memorized word for word,
because he occasionally stumbled, and others would remind him of the
words. When he finished, he stood up and
circled the ger clockwise, standing in front of each person and holding out the
milk. That person would cup Damba’s
hands in theirs and bring the milk to their lips, drinking a sip, and then
releasing the cup. When he finished the
circle, he returned in front of ML and drank the remainder of the milk.
The instant the ceremonial portion was over, everything
became relaxed, ML teasing and joking, and both men practically tearing off
their deels. I joked with TS, a female
disciple I had met before. Soon, a great
number of people had arrived. The shamans packed up their altars entirely and
we piled into cars and vans and headed to ML’s sacred site.
A pick-up truck arrived a few minutes before us and some men
were working on setting up a ger on the north side of the sacred circle. We unloaded from the cars and started setting
up personal tents or helping with the ger.
I just stayed out of the way.
Once the ger was set up, it was time to protect the
site. A red string was tied from the
pillar in the center fo the sacred circle to the stove pipe at the center of
the ger. Another string formed a massive
circle around the entire area. A small
entry way was made for cars to enter and leave, as well as for people to go out
to relieve themselves. A bucket of herbal arshan
(sacred liquid) was set by the entry way so that after leaving the sacred area,
one could wash off anything that had been picked up outside. This circle was to protect the new shaman,
who would be especially vulnerable in what was to come.
Once the altars were set up inside the ger and a string
attached from ML’s lamps to Damba’s new lamps, Damba changed into his ritual
robes for the first time. He looked very
excited about the moment and urged me to take photos while joking around. He
would start with ML’s drum, instead of his own, which was being prepared along
with other ritual items by his sisters and female relatives. One woman made “birds nests” out of birch
bark with dough eggs. Another shamaness
cut some wool off of a sheep tied up near by and added it to the nest. Another made dough lamps.
People shouted for us to gather around. ML put on his
headdress, effectively blindfolding him. Two other shamans grabbed him, each by
one elbow. He began running clockwise around the sacred circle, wearing his
heavy robes and with his drum against his head, drumming and singing a
traditional Buryat folk song. Others,
who knew the song, joined the singing, many chasing after Damba as he drummed
and ran. I frequently had to dive out of
the way to avoid being stampeded.
In order to help family that didn’t know the song, ML wrote
down the lyrics to the song. I joined in
the singing to help bring the spirit.
After around three rounds, Damba collapsed. An attendant yanked the headdress off and used
his hand to cover Damba’s eyes. People
shouted “shok shok shok!” and some would hit him on the back. They helped him up and he began drumming and
running again. After a few more circles his drumming escalated and he again
collapsed. Again, HS yanked off Damba’s mask and covered his face. I stood next to Damba’s mother, who was
looking over my shoulders at the lyrics.
She was gripping the belt of my deel, occasionally leaning against my
shoulder.
“Is this difficult?” I asked,
“Very difficult” she answered nervously.
“Are you scared?” I asked again.
“Yes, scared.”
I leaned back against her.
I was nervous too. The shaman was
trying to take his spirit and go into trance, but there was a problem. He could not match the time of both expelling
his own soul at the same time as his spirit coming in. The nervousness was well placed. During the
first shamanizing, it’s possible for there to be problems, for things to go
wrong. A shaman could lose his soul and
die during the shanar. It’s rare, but
far from unheard of.
After having run and collapsed many times, the shamans
brought Damba to one side of the field and had him drum there. I stood close
with Damba’s mother, who continued to grip my belt. I put my arm around her,
sharing her nervousness. Manlai’s
disciples stood around Damba and supported him as he tried to shamanize. He
would drum and go into ecstasy, then collapse again. Again, someone would push their hand over his
eyes while others would slap his back, shouting “shok shok shok!”
Finally, after this happened several times, something in the
drumming changed. Instead of collapsing, it became stronger and stronger and
suddenly he swung the drum out behind him and held it against his back. His
posture and voice changed, his ongod
spirit had come to him. He sat and
greeted his family. His mother was
shaking as she met the spirit. The spirit spoke very personally to her, both of
them began crying. It was deeply
emotional for everyone.
Since it was his first time to shamanize, the other shamans
didn’t want him to do it for too long and brought the drum over and the ongod
drummed and left. Damba looked exhausted
and a bit confused. Then suddenly a grin spread across his face. He had done
it! He was really a shaman now. He
looked thrilled. We congratulated him and he kept grinning.
Soon he was shamanizing again and again. Family, fellow
shamanic disciples who had already been initiated, and tushee (attendants) came
to greet the spirit as damba briefly shamanized again and again.
Soon after, ML shamanized as well and met Damba’s spirit, ML
also personally met Damba’s spirit.
After much shamanizing, ML shamanized inside the ger. Damba, in his robes but not head dress, sat
near by. Two men herded the sheep into
the ger and brought it in front of ML’s grandfather spirit. Grandfather gently pet the sheep, trying to
calm it. He hushed the sheep, gave it
tea to drink and milk, and gently spoke to the sheep.
The two men flipped the sheep over, holding it belly up.
Grandfather continued petting the sheep’s head and making calming noises. One men took a knife and reached out his
other hand. Damba handed over one of his sacred mirrors from around his
neck. Swifly, the man cut the sheep’s
stomach, reached his hand inside, with the mirror, and almost instantly killed
the sheep in the Mongolian fashion and without spilling any blood. Grandfather
continued blessing the sheep then brought Damba over, who leaned closely over
the head of the sheep. Soon after the
sheep was brought outside for butchering.
The intestines were cleaned out and blood was saved, the
meat was separated from then offal. The blood was boiled until it became a
solid pudding and some was stuffed and boiled in intestine as a sausage. We ate some of the blood and offal and some
was cooked into a rice porridge. I’m not
a huge fan of blood puddings, but it was alright.
The spirits wanted a party and demanded 55 songs, so all 20+
people crammed into the ger. My bed
would be under the east wall, under all the drums (one of which, specifically
the new shaman’s soon-to-be-hingirig, for reasons unknown to me, smelled
strongly of urine. I was very happy when that drum was removed from the ger.)
ML introduced his students to the family of the new shaman,
and introduced me as a friend of T, ML’s teacher’s teacher, coming to learn
about shamans. Then a cup was passed
around. For each person it was filled with vodka, the person would sing a song,
then the cup would move to the next person.
When the cup reached me, I tried my best to thank the shamans and family
in Mongolian. I expressed my gratitude
that, despite not being a shaman or a family member, or knowing them at all,
they had welcomed me with open arms to this personal event. I then sang the only 2 mongolian songs I
know. In between songs, I joked with
Damba and HS, who enjoyed teasing me about my Mongolian. It was crammed and
busy, but wonderful.
When we finished singing 55 songs, people went out to their
own tents. I suggled into my sleeping
bag and Damba threw a quilt over me. I
used my deel as a pillow and soon fell fast asleep.
August 5th
We woke up around 9:30, which wasn’t bad considering we fell
asleep around 2 AM. I was super excited
from the moment I woke up, realizing that today my dad would be arriving in
Mongolia.
We had a relaxed morning. I taught ML, HS and Damba how to
play a dice game that my father taught me.
This took a large part of the morning.
Damba’s family made tsuiven for lunch.
After lunch, ML encouraged me to join Khulan, HD and a few others for
medicinal herbs up the mountain. We
climbed up to find taavan salaa and ganga (wild thyme) but were distracted by
the wild strawberries everywhere. It took a while to get up to the top of the
mountain where the ganga would be growing because we kept stopping for
strawberries. I burrowed myself in the
strawberries and ate my fill. HS shouted
out “There are snakes!”
I responded: “I’m wearing boots!”
I responded: “I’m wearing boots!”
“There are wolves”
“I like wolves!”
“There are bears”
“Then it’s like home!”
At that point HS gave up. At the top of the mountain, we could see all
of UB. The view was spectacular. We spent a while collecting several bags of ganga,
which is used as incense in shamanic ceremonies, then descended the mountain. When we came down, there was plenty of boiled
meat and meat broth. I ate and joked
around with people. ML was concerned
about whether I was eating enough and kept putting more lean meat on my plate,
knowing I preferred it to the fatty meat.
When we came down, several shamans were preparing to
shamanize in the circle. ML, HS, Damba,
and another shaman BV were all preparing to shamanize their grandmother
spirits. ML’s grandmother spirit, as
previously noted, is a skilled healer, so I asked her to do additional work on
my ankle, which was really nice.
A lot of it was the grandmothers talking to each other.
Considering all the shamans were male, this really surreal.
Then Damba began a special shamanizing. At first I didn’t
know what was happening, then it became clear, he was in trance with the spirit
of his deceased grandmother who had passed away 6 years ago, giving her a
chance to talk to the family. The whole family, and the shaman, were sobbing.
It was deeply emotional. Those of us watching were also brought to tears. We left very soon to give the family privacy.
Finally the shamanizing ended and we all gathered in the
ger. Damba came forward with ritual
offerings and made another memorized speech to ML. ML presented him with new
cushions. We all celebrated this new
shaman’s achievement, shouting “hurai, hurai, hurai” and waving our hands in
clockwise circles.
Then things were over, just like that. I congratulated the
happy Damba and his family. We took our
things out of the ger, the shamans packed up their shrines. The red string was collected, and the ger
dismantled. The shaman and his family
distributed traditional breads, cheeses and sweets to the attendees. We loaded
outselves into cars and made our way back to Tolgoit. I was in a rush so ML
drove me quickly back to M’s place.
I packed and organized my things. Enkhule picked me up and brought me to the
airport. We nearly missed my dad, who
somehow managed to walk through arrivals right past us without us seeing each
other. We literally chased him down as
he was leaving he airport. We drove dad
over to the hotel, I finally got a shower and we all went to sleep.
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