*~*
As I rode my bike west out of town into the countryside with the Gobi Altays rising up around me, all thoughts of what I'd bought for the clan were forgotten. The Gan-gaad Clan, minus Gan-gaad, if he was still in town, was sprawled out in its usual fashion. A water pump was in the middle of the camp, the flocks and herds opposite the gers. But what caused my mouth to go dry was that Navi-hasgovi and his clan had arrived that morning after pushing through the night, and his herds needed water badly.
The men of both clans faced-off. Dusbhan spoke for the Gan-gaad Clan, while his mute father, Luyant, stood at his side. And Navi-hasgovi shouted for fairness amongst his men. A war was brewing. Worse yet, since Mongolians don't usually use branding, the women of both clans were running frantically about to keep the mingling animals separated. Some of the stock desperately wanted water, while others simply wanted to wander curiously through the other clan's herds. The Gan-gaad Clan was outnumbered two-to-one. I arrived with the intention of taking no one's side. Words from Romans came to mind as I dropped my bike and ran between the two companies: "If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men."
I pulled off my hat to show my blond distinction amongst them, and as one of the tallest present, I found some barbaric rational to settle them to silence.
"This cannot be sorted out by yelling or fighting!" I said strongly. "The matter is simple, especially between two peoples who live off the same land!"
"He's Kazakh, Pond!" Dusbhan said with hatred. "Gan-gaad would never—"
"Quiet! Gan-gaad isn't here, and if he were, he'd want to keep his camp separate whether he wanted to assist Navi-hasgovi or not. Now, Gan-gaad's clan will move twenty meters to the south of the well. Navi-hasgovi, you take the north by twenty meters. That should—"
"Everyone knows it's colder in the north!" Navi-hasgovi argued. "We want the south!"
"It's twenty meters, forty combined!" I said in disbelief. "The temperature isn't—"
"Who put you in charge?" a Navi-hasgovi man demanded, then shoved me into Luyant.
Somehow I kept my balance. But Luyant shoved me away from him back into Navi-hasgovi. The yelling began again and the bodies pressed closer. The brawl started as most do, I suspect. Someone shook a fist and another misinterpreted the gesture. Someone punched me from behind as I faced Luyant, and Dusbhan pushed me aside to wrap his hands around Navi-hasgovi's neck. The only pleasing thing to see was that of the few guns and many knife blades possessed by the two clans, none were brandished.
I was knocked to the ground and stepped on. A heel stomped my fingers and I felt my blood begin to boil. In all my years on the street, and during my rashest days in prison, I had welcomed a good rumble now and then. But around me was chaos with no sense of remedy whatsoever. And in the melee, there seemed only one way to communicate.
Wading through elbows and fists, I found Luyant. I dragged two men off him using a choke hold, not hurting them at all as I rendered them unconscious on the trampled grass. When I gripped Luyant by the collar, he swung at me, his eyes not quite focused from the whipping he was both giving and receiving. Ducking under his blow, I punched him in the gut, stealing his wind and his fight for twenty seconds.
"Help me stop this before we lose everything!" I ordered.
Once he gained his senses, he nodded, and we stepped together into the brawl—which, I should add, was more wrestling than actually fist-fighting. Mongolians love horse racing, but they love wrestling more. Luyant and I double-teamed our own clansmen to drag them away from the others. As soon as Navi-hasgovi realized our intentions, his men backed off under his direction. Dusbhan was the last to be hauled away by the seat of his pants by his own father. Luyant deposited him at the edge of the scuffle.
Everyone stood or sat panting for a couple minutes, grass and grime in our hair and ears, our noses bloody, and plenty of hateful glares cast both ways.
"That's it!" I waved my arm. "Navi-hasgovi, give us a few minutes to back away to the west and you may have the east!"
"But—" someone from my clan began.
"I know they're closer to town, but someone has to concede somewhere! It may as well be us since we're the ones who'll lose altogether if we keep fighting! Navi-hasgovi, can you share the water pump with us?"
"If you take the west, yes."
"And we can share the pump?" I checked again. "The animals as well?"
"We can if you can."
"Luyant, your word is law in Gan-gaad's absence. Will our clan peacefully share the pump?"
Huffing like the bull he was, Luyant nodded hesitantly.
It took thirty minutes to sort out the livestock and move them and the gers twenty paces west of the pump. The few mischievous goats that had wandered into Navi-hasgovi's herds were quickly identified and caught since the wealthy Kazakh had no such flocks. His stock was watered in turn, then his gers were erected beginning twenty paces east of the pump. Their watering took the better part of four hours as the camels alone could hold twenty-five gallons apiece and hadn't been watered in over a week on the fierce march south.
Meanwhile, the wives saw to my clan's wounds, and Zima saw to my broken fingers with a heel print still showing below the knuckles.
"Gan-gaad will be furious you didn't beat them all and take their herds when you had the chance," Zima said as I grit my teeth at the pain while she set my fingers one at a time. "Do you have any idea how much he hates Navi-hasgovi?"
I winced as she straightened and braced the last finger.
"Then I'm glad he wasn't here today. A little blood is better than a lot of lives."
When she was finished, she held my wounded hand and pet my fingers. I can't say her touch was unwanted. That would be a lie.
A shadow loomed over me then.
"I will tell Gan-gaad all you've done here, American!" Dusbhan stated hatefully. "All of it! I will counsel him and my father will rid you of our clan!"
Rising to my feet, my mouth had a dozen things to bark at this youth, but I swallowed my pride, barely.
"If Gan-gaad wants me gone, I'll go, but I'll miss you all."
"Well, if he leaves, I leave!" declared Zima boldly as she rose to her feet.
Dusbhan cocked his arm to slap Zima, but I saw it coming and reached across to catch his wrist. He struggled against my stronger grip, even with damaged fingers.
"You aren't yet this clan's leader," I stated softly, our faces inches apart. "Someday, you may be. Leave nothing behind you that will darken your heart too deeply with regret. It will cloud your choices in the future."
I let him wrench his wrist free, then he stomped away. The whole clan was watching us, and I felt foolish for drawing so much attention with so little resolve. Zima clung to my left arm. She moved behind me as if in hiding from her own clan. Luyant cast us both a warning stare that gave me a chill.
"You could've made a warlord!" Zima whispered in my ear. "Your words alone defeat them all!"
Shocked, I turned to meet her gaze.
"A warlord? Haven't you learned anything?" I asked. "I desire peace, as God desires peace. And I certainly don't desire followers. Violence makes me sick and pride brings out the worst in all of us, especially me! The lack of compassion I find in this clan disgusts me!"
Pulling away from her, I climbed into my ger to escape it all. For a moment, I was disappointed I'd bought the mirror and chocolates. Everything was a mess now. In my frustration, I refused to communicate with God and I flopped onto my back to pout.
As I reflect now upon those first days in Mongolia, I see myself as a child. I was a child of God, yes, but I was also an immature believer, unstable in the gifts that were necessary to adequately fill the position of a missionary. When I finally came around to humbling myself before the Lord, as I did that night, He took on the burdens of my inadequacies and imperfections, and renewed in me a pure heart. After I wept in my ger that evening, I sought the Lord's strength and patience to continue. I emerged from my ger with the armor of God, ready in meekness to approach the next challenge. One of the first was to approach the clan.
I found Zima at the evening campfire with Dusbhan, Luyant, and their wives. Two of Gan-gaad's wives were also there with their children, but the clan leader and Squirrel's mother were residing in the town while the boy recovered. Multiple children from the combined families sat or played nearby.
Zima and the others were halfway through their meal when I sat down next to her. She handed me a bowl she'd prepared. By now, no one ever offered me fermented mare's milk. They knew I drank only water or fresh milk from the goats or mares.
Before I took a bite, while all eyes were still on me for arriving late, I cleared my throat.
"I apologize for losing my temper this morning," I stated. "My actions were like a spoiled child when things don't go my way. This is something I need to work on in my life. You have all been kind to me. I consider you all to be companions and friends, and I will try to be a better companion and friend in return."
"Apology not accepted," Dusbhan said quickly. "Even if I hate you for it, you're the only sane one here. Without you today, Gan-gaad would've had no flocks or herds or even a clan to return to. That's what Luyant says, and I must agree. Eat your food, American."
Raising my eyebrows in surprise, I smiled and took a bite. What a turn of events! With relief, I saw the same message on Zima and Luyant's faces, and I put my arm around her shoulder in a half-hug. She patted my leg in understood affection, and we ate the remainder of our meal in silence. After the meal as the animals settled for the night, the camp's children ran off to play before they were rounded up for bed. Luyant played his morin-khuur and Dusbhan went to his radio.
When we were alone, I drew Zima toward my ger and handed her half the chocolates I'd bought in Bulgan. I took the wrapper off one and popped it into her mouth. She gave a melting expression.
"I've never tasted anything so good!" she said. "Maybe raspberries, but it was so long ago."
"Take your half and help me pass them out to everyone."
And we did just that. Little to the mothers' knowledge, the chocolate had the children awake until midnight, but the clan wasn't traveling, so it was more amusing than it was troublesome.
I also went to the other fire where Gan-gaad's sheep and goat families ate their meal. They all received a chocolate, though some tried to refuse out of humility. However, I insisted, and I foresaw a time when I could introduce them to a greater Gift—the Gift of love through Christ's sacrifice.
While the children once again left their beds to run about the camp, I approached Luyant and Dusbhan with my extra chocolates. There were only four left and I gave two to each of them.
"What do you suppose we should do with these left-over chocolates?" I let them think about that for a moment, each one starving selfishly for the candies. "Perhaps . . . give them to someone who hasn't been given one?"
But everyone in the clan had received one, except for Squirrel, and I had his safely stored in my ger. Dusbhan chuckled quietly as he understood my intentions.
"You don't expect us to . . ." Dusbhan shook his head and looked toward the large camp of Navi-hasgovi.
What I suggested, or implied, was truly absurd in their minds, but I could see them considering an avenue of kindness they'd never before considered toward a rival.
"The chocolates are yours to do with as you wish." I shrugged. "I expect nothing of you."
Praying they did the right thing, I sat down next to Zima at the fire as she braided a horsehair bridle. The other women saw to the cookery—having given up on recapturing the children. I watched Dusbhan reason in whispers with his silent father as to what they should do with the four chocolates. Excess was foreign to the clan, as were simple delicacies. They'd been given a difficult responsibility, one they took as seriously as if I'd given them four camels to do with as they wished.
"I wish Gan-gaad were here to see how happy you've made everyone," Zima commented.
"It's okay that he's not," I said. "The chocolates are from a foreign country."
We laughed the tense day away, along with its misgivings and violence, and I felt closer to her than before having experienced it all with her.
Dusbhan and Luyant seemed to have decided upon some course of action and left the campfire, walking to the east. For a moment, I thought they might only be going to the water pump, but they passed it and called out to those in the Navi-hasgovi camp. Navi-hasgovi came forward, as did several other men. Though I couldn't hear what was said, I was pleased they weren't wrestling again! After a few minutes, Luyant and his son returned to the campfire, each with a grin they couldn't hide. As he passed me on the way to his ger, Dusbhan gave a friendly punch to my shoulder. All animosity between us had vanished. I knew it had less to do with the chocolates than the lessons we'd all learned that day.
"Praise the Lord," I said in English.
Zima glanced at me.
"You just spoke English. What did you say?"
"‘Praise the Lord,'" I said, repeating in Mongolian. "It's a reference of reverence, not to a lord of war or a lord of a fortress or a land, but to the Lord God of creation, of the world and of life."
"And why do you praise Him right now?"
"I should praise Him with every breath. I try to. His hand works so many wonders. This morning, I was certain I would be chased from the clan. I saw no remedy to the rift between me and Dusbhan. But God pulls the strings to every man's heart. What seems so difficult to us is simple to God. We must only trust Him."
"Trust Him like Abraham did?"
"Yes." I smiled proudly that she remembered. "Trust Him like Abraham to provide."
"And trust Him like Noah did to save his family." She beamed at the look of pleasant surprise on my face. "Yes, I'm learning. It's easier to see what wrong things men and women do when I read it from the Bible. But they do right things, too, and I can see how your God blesses His people for their obedience. What do you think His voice sounds like?"
"Later in the Bible, you'll read how God's voice is heard. Sometimes it's a still, small voice. Then, it may be a loud, authoritative voice. Or, God may speak through someone else who is close to Him, or through our circumstances."
"Does God speak to you? Do you hear Him besides what He tells you in the Bible?"
"I hear Him, but not in words like those men in the Bible did. Once the Bible was completed with all of God's intentions for mankind, and the instruction He wanted us to have, there hasn't been a need for Him to speak audibly to us as He once did. The Bible is complete and can prove itself. We don't require additional signs when we're to trust by faith and not by sight or other senses. God speaks to His children through His Word, in the minds of those who have Him living inside their hearts. It's something more profound than a mere conscience. He gives us gifts of peace, joy, love, and other things—as He gives us a new heart once we fully decide to follow and live for Him. When the whole world is upset around me, that's when I hear God the most, when I rely on Him the most. This is a state of fellowship with God that everyone should try to seek all the time, but we're often distracted by our own pursuits, which are only temporary satisfactions at best."
Realizing how quiet the camp had become, I looked up from the coal fire at which I'd been staring while speaking. The children still dashed about, but the wives and Luyant and Zima had been listening to my every word, words I'd intended for only Zima's ears as she seemed to be my only pupil. But God has a way of bringing His message to more than just intended ears.
"How is it that you speak so boldly," Tzegabor, Gan-gaad's first and eldest wife asked, "when such things are forbidden?"
"Especially by Gan-gaad!" another added.
Normally, they wouldn't speak in front of other men, but I was a foreigner and Luyant was a mute—and they were obviously curious. Besides, Luyant seemed just as interested.
"Many years ago, during the years that introduced perestroika to Mongolia, your government also made many social reforms, allowing the citizens the freedom to choose between faiths, occupations, and other pursuits. Though the great restructuring, the perestroika, has been difficult on Mongolia after so many other forced changes from the past, the perestroika was meant for good, to rid the land of fear and forced socialism.
"You ask why I speak so boldly. But I ask why we don't all speak and live boldly? The government allows us to express ourselves openly and boldly now, though there are remnants of the old authority still seeking the old ways of absolute control. That generation will pass—and is passing—Gan-gaad's generation. But with the new openness comes evil as well as good. It's the evil I believe Gan-gaad and the others fear most from the perestroika."
I paused before the next part and peered into their eager faces. What I'd said was essentially forbidden in this clan, but I couldn't stop now.
"It's not so much a battle between good and evil as it is a spiritual war between the One and Only God and the demon angel, Satan. And as in any war, we must choose a side. If we don't choose, we automatically stand with Satan, because if we don't live as a servant of God, then we only serve Satan's worldly purposes in our flesh. There are only two ways. One is right and difficult, though fulfilling. The other is wrong and tempting, though ultimately destructive."
"But we have our gods," Tzegabor said. "Why would we need another?"
"There is only one God," Zima said. "All the others we sing in tatlagas about are made from the minds of our ancestors. Pond's God made everything, even our imaginations, but we still dishonor Him by admiring false and imaginary gods."
"Who are you to speak, Zima?" Tzegabor frowned. "What do you wear on your wrist?"
Zima held up the bracelet of gods molded in such detail, the only remnant of the memory of her mother. With a mighty yank, she tore the strand of leather off her wrist. She stood and violently cast the bracelet into the fire.
"There should be no confusion in what I believe now!" Zima stated.
And that concluded the conversation, punctuated by Luyant rising to his bulky height and walking to his ger. That was everyone's cue to disperse. Luyant's wife extinguished the fire and the others began to catch the children as they ran past.
Zima and I rose to our feet. She started toward Luyant's ger when I took her hand and stopped her. We were familiar with the other's casual touch, and even the time we'd spent alone wasn't sparked with tension at all. But in that moment, I felt butterflies in my chest, and her hand in mine felt softer than it had in the past. I was falling for this beautiful Russian-Kazakh.
"I know you wanted me to pick up something for you from Bulgan, something special, besides all the chocolates."
"It's okay." She smiled, and tenderly touched my bearded cheek. "We all loved the candies, and I'm sure they weren't cheap."
"But I bought you something, anyway." I grinned.
"You did? What is it?"
I led her to my ger and left her standing outside as I crawled in and wrapped the mirror in the scarf I'd brought from New York. Under the half-moon, I stood and gave her the small bundle. With girlish excitement, she unwound the scarf.
"It's a neck scarf from America made from fine cotton."
"Oh, it's so soft!" She draped the scarf over her shoulder when she found the mirror inside. The reflection of the moon lit her smiling face as her fingers traced the decorated frame. "I love it. It's the first mirror I've seen in many years."
"And it's plastic, too, so you don't have to worry about it breaking so easily."
"You think of everything."
"Well—"
"Don't you need the scarf? It'll be cold this winter."
I swallowed nervously.
"What I feel in my heart right now will keep me warm through ten winters."
We gazed into each other's eyes for a long while, and I thought for sure she was going to plant one on me.
"Thank you, Pond," she whispered, looked around, then wrapped her arms around my neck.
When I thought the embrace was finished, I realized she was crying softly against my neck. I didn't know why she was crying, but I hoped it was from happiness. Gently, I held her until she was quiet, then she pulled away. The cold air was giving us both a chill. Without a second glance, she stepped around me and slipped over to Luyant's ger. My heart did flip-flops as she disappeared inside. How could I sleep now? How could I ever sleep again? What a day!
"She loves you, American," Dusbhan said from an opening in his ger's hide-covered doorway. I didn't know he'd been watching. "No one else would ever touch her because she's Russian and Kazakh. But both of you, your hearts aren't your own. They belong to each other now."
He climbed out of his ger and stood beside me as we admired the starry sky. When he offered me a puff on his cigarette, I accepted as is customary, and passed it back. It was a gesture of the peace between us.
"Dusbhan, I didn't know you were a romantic."
"I listen to the radio with my wife." He shrugged. "We listen to people who call on telephones to talk to experts about marriage."
"And what have you learned?"
He flicked his cigarette butt into the frozen dirt. Across camp, one of the clan men in charge of goats was riding his horse on watch.
"That it's easy to be a man. Not so easy to be a husband. But if there is love, hard and easy don't matter. You know my wife is pregnant?"
"Really?" I rested a hand on his sturdy shoulder. "Congratulations."
"Not so easy to be a father, either, I think," he said. "But I think love makes it easier. Do you think?"
"You'll make a good father, Dusbhan," I said. "And you'll have much to share with him as he grows."
"Yes, I think so." He nodded and ducked back into his ger.
I lay down in my own shelter with a smile on my face, and fell asleep with a prayer of praise on my lips.