Showing posts with label wrestling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wrestling. Show all posts

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Mongolian Permaculture: Day 25 – Rest Day Tournament

*PHOTO CREDITS: MICHELLE ABEL


THE ROAD TO THE TOURNAMENT GROUNDS


Rest Day today. At least, that’s what the class schedule said.

Apparently, ‘Rest Day’ translates to ‘Let’s have a sports tournament d
ay with soccer and a relay race and jumping rope and especially wrestling!!’. Did I mention that Mongolians are very competitive?

We all sleep in until around 9am or so and wander in and out of the dining room all morning, sipping bowls of tea and instant coffee. Bek holds a few meetings with his staff in his ger, and the co-operative busies themselves making preparations for The Program Director's arrival this afternoon.

The cook has been asking me to teach her how to make omlettes [still asking for cakes!], and has been commandeering the eggs for her stash almost as soon as they are laid. The kitchen has also begun making salads especially for Kat, who has been managing our daily meat-fests admirably. She lights up at the prospect of an omlette made with freshly laid eggs and freshly picked chives, beetroot leaves, and spinach from the vegge plot.

After The Program Director rolls in and everyone has had lunch [around 4pm], we all pac
k up and walk over to the river, about 1.5km away.

PICKING TEAMS


We split into teams and donate 3,000MNT to enter; the winning team takes the pool. The soccer matches [played with a rubber basketball] are played like bemused bloodsports, with men, women, young and old taking the field in equal capacity. My fishing buddy Tetch is on Bek’s team and darts around like a squirrel between everyone’s legs.

The men compete hard, roaring with delight each time someone takes a tumble, and the women compete even harder, aiming their kicks at unprotected shins and laughing all the way.


RICK RECOVERS FROM HIS FIRST SOCCER MATCH

Rick has never played soccer before, though you wouldn’t know it the way he nonchalantly stops the ball under his foot and boots it the length of the field, and Kat runs around the field like a madwoman looking to steamroll her nearest Mongolian.

After shooting a very cheeky goal from the halfway line [subsequently disallowed in waves of controversy], I go down in the 2nd half of my match with no-one else even close to me. As I limp of the field shaking my head in embarrasment, The Program Director asks, ”What happened?! …I looked over at you and you just fell down!?!” Um, err ….yup. Dunno exactly what happened, slipped on a cowpat maybe?

Anyway it is my pride that is hurt more than anything, it will probably take a couple days for the swelling to go down and the ankle to heal enough to walk without limping. It does mean, however, that I will be sidelined for the Wrestling.

ERDENSTDEGER VS. DORGA

Mongolian Wrestling is a gentlemanly brutal sport, used by Chinggis Khan to keep his armies in top fighting shape at all times. The aim of the game is simple: first one whose elbow, knee, back or bum hits the ground loses. No kicking, punching, or submission holds, just two men circling each other like lions, grappling for position and maybe an arm lock or leg sweep, until one exploits a small advantage to take the other down.

The spirit of competition is fierce, but good-natured. There is no crass, obnoxious trash-talking or testosterone-drenched carrying on, and the contest is held with a mutual respect for all competitors.

Dashi takes down Natsegdorg in his first round, despite being half his size, and then pins The Cowboy in round two. Bek and Gumbaa have an entertaining match, then Bek moves on to face the old man Dorlig, who put me on my back the night before during my impromptu Mongolian Wrestling lesson.

Dorlig stalks his opponent like the grizzly lion that he is, Bek reluctant to let him get a grip on him. They circle each other for ages, and finally Dorlig gets a grip on the younger man. There is more grappling and subtle jockeying for position for ages, then suddenly Bek’s legs are taken out from under him and he finds himself looking at the sky wondering what happened.

The old man smiles his toothless smile and does the falcon victory dance, spreading his arms like the birds of prey circling overhead.

Meanwhile, Gumbataar has been battling with Erdenstdeger, the other elder the other elder stateыman of the group who stands a good couple inches taller than everyone else and has just disposed of Dorga, the youngest & strongest of the students. Erdenstdeger moves like the gorillas we watched during Nadaam, and disposes of Gumbataar pretty quickly despite the younger man's speed and strength.

Final round: Dorlig vs Erdenstdeger, with hardly a chance for Dorlig to catch his breath after the epic match vs. Bek… Erdenstdeger catches Dorlig with a leg sweep that ends the wrestling portion of today’s games.

KAT GETS SOME AIR TIME

The grande finale is a skipping competition, with everyone weaving a figure-of-8 around the rope-twirlers until someone messes it up and is disqualified. Kat makes the final two with Gumbaa, and is beaten when the rules of the final round are lost in translation to English – home court advantage…

Back at the hasha that evening, the smiles are broad and tales are being swapped of the day’s highlights. People limp through the camp and walk around rubbing sore muscles and bruised joints.


I soak my throbbing ankle in icy-cold water drawn from the well, and am treated to a traditional Mongolian remedy, a salty-tea compress to wrap the swollen joint.

Tired, battered, and bruised, but happy… I really enjoy this peoples’ spirit.


SURE HOPE IT'S NOT BROKEN...

Monday, July 5, 2010

Mongolian Permaculture: Day 6 - Nadaam in Tosontsengel

NO SIGNS OF MALNUTRITION HERE


Today I travelled in time.

Standing there in the Soum’s Nadaam wrestling arena as stark eagle shadows circled the grass, big burly Mongolian wrestlers in their traditional garb circled each other while the entire village watched, as they have done for a thousands of years.

I am developing my own genuine Mongolian squint in the bright glare of the Mongol sun.

This is a fierce people, hardened by the harsh conditions of their land, a deeply proud and noble people with warm hearts and sunny smiles.

This is a people who walk with a confidence in their step born of a connection to their past, which lives and breathes in them with every step on the steppe.

This is a people who know that at one time they ruled over most of the known world. You feel it when they look into your eyes.

They have lived so close to the land for so long, walking a fine line between death and survival through -40?C nights in the long winter, living like marmots for half the year and then emerging into the flowering plains, blinking in the stark sunlight.

I sit in the crowd and watch the wrestling, men built like yaks who move like apes, lumbering about in their big boots, flying like eagles to pay respects to their tradition, exploding in a flurry to bring their quarry down.

Rick has designated me his champion should he be challenged to a bout, so should we be challenged my strategy is to find the biggest, baddest dude and lose to him without hurting or humiliating myself [ie last for more than 10 seconds]…

Meanwhile, Rick has entered the local chess tournament and is getting himself whooped and having a great old time. Kat has made friends with some locals and has been having a conversation for the last hour or so about what she has no idea, though the crowd that has gathered around her drawing things in the sand are all quite pleased about the way the conversation has been going.

Bek has left us to catch up with some work and sleep back at the compound, so Ingktor patiently waits and watches us and the wrestling.

Suddenly, the stadium starts emptying and Ingktor piles us into our 4WD. Clouds of dust trails rise into the sky from the mountain behind us, and everyone jumps on the nearest horse, motorcycle, car, or person and charges up the hill. The horse races have been spotted in the distance since we saw them start and disappear hours ago – we’ve guessed that their course was one lap around the basin, probably about 50km or so – and we pile back out of the 4WD with the rest of the soum to watch the end of the race.

Four riders gallop to the finish line, at first just another dust trail rising form the horizon, then a speck, then four specks, then we can see its an all-out battle for the finish… the third rider pulls to the front as they thunder down the home straight, and I rub my eyes to make sure I am really seeing what is unfolding. The riders are about 6 or 7 years old, charging along at full bore, whipping their glistening mounts while the crowd whoops with delight.

The rest of the field is not far behind, and everyone is home safely within five minutes of the leaders, at which point the entire crowd turns around and races back down the mountain towards the stadium to show of the winning horses.

Nadaam. Wrestling. Horses. Mongolia.

Oh yeah, and there was archery.

Awesome.