You do or see anything enough and after a while it will just start to seem normal. We adapt to our surroundings and what seemed exotic only a few months ago now fails to even gain attention. October has been a normalizing month for me. It no longer surprises me to see my students riding horses to school. Or to have my class interrupted by a women wanting to use the internet. I am no longer surprised when drunks (I do not mean that disparagingly) wait outside school to chat with the “white guy” or when my students slide down the stairway banister.

Somethings I have grown quite accustomed to and will miss when I am gone. I will certainly miss the ability to send students on personal errands. And I will defiantly miss the “Jijurs”. A Jijur is a cross between your grandmother and a ninja. They live at the school and spend half the time washing windows and sweeping floors and the other half beating students with a bow staff. I love these women. I mean it, I actually love them and we have a great relationship. They know that I only pretend to understand what is going on in school and help maintain that illusion through daily beatings. Any student who is even suspected of fooling around in my class is shown the business end of bow staff and perhaps a round house kick or two. On my end, I turn a blind eye when they are mopping the carpet with Mongolian Vodka. It has been a while since high school biology but I believe this is called a symbiotic relationship.

All that said, there are still moments which give me pause. Consider this headline from our local newspaper. “Herder Boy Has Plague” as in bubonic plague, as in the Black Death. Like most Americans I believed that the bubonic plague was something that had decimated Europe’s population in the 14th century and died out. I was unaware that it still existed and that people still actually got it. I was even more surprised to discover that my province has an unusually high rate of infection. Finally, I was amazed to learn that I have the cure to the bubonic plague in my med kit.

Yet another health related surprise came via text message. My safety and security officer sent me a text message coyly asking if I had heard about anyone getting sick. I replied that I had not. A few moments later I got a separate text message from my counterpart asking for my regional supervisor’s number. It is important to understand that in general no one likes to talk with the Peace Corps office. The folks there are exceptionally good at what they do and do not adhere to the laissez fair life style of the Hudo Folks. Hence, most calls to the Peace Corps office equals a dramatic increase in ones’ workload. That my counterpart was voluntarily calling the Peace Corps set alarm bells “a-ringing”. After a little digging I discovered that reports had surfaced of an anthrax infection only a few kilometers from me. Anthrax!!!??? That’s right Mongolia is one of the few nations in the world that boasts naturally occurring Anthrax. Thus, in a land area roughly the size of Alaska, with a population smaller than the state of Rhode Island and a climate similar to Siberia one can find Bubonic Plague, Anthrax and Bird Flu. Fortunately for me Mongolia is a member of a certain willing coalition so I do not have to worry about my felt tent being targeted by a freedom defending smart bomb.
uch Love
Stasz the Mongol.