Evil Spirits
There are evil spirits lurking everywhere, especially here in Mongolia. Why, just a few weeks ago I had my own encounter with one of them. Here's my story.
Amaraa (my husband) was away to Beijing and I was staying alone in our hot-water-less apartment for a few days. I slept one night with no company, and decided the next night it would be nice to have someone stay there with me. Amaraa's youngest brother, Munguu, was nominated as that person.
People don't have much pride as far as getting trash in the trash can; but part of that problem maybe that trash cans are few and far between. So they bag up their trash, throw it in the hallway of the apartment building, out the window, out the front door, whatever is convenient. All along the streets there are heaps of trash just waiting for the wind to come up and blow them around. Stray dogs can always be found dining at such places. The biggest problem with the garbage is in our own apartment building.
We were climbing the stairs to the fifth floor to my apartment. The floors are littered with trash. There is no appropriate place to put your garbage. We even threw ours in a water line hole that was being dug just outside our building. As for our apartment hallways, it largely disgusts me. My dad would have slapped me for throwing so much as a candy wrapped on the ground, let alone a huge sack of miscellaneous garbage.
As Munguu and I were climbing the stairs on that fateful night, we crossed paths with one small sack of a few sheep bones (it's normal!). One of those bones is from the pelvis of the sheep; the bone that connects to the femur and holds the socket of the femur bone. Regardless of its name, it has a hole through the middle. So the Mongolian legend goes, evil spirits come through that hole. At night, you cannot leave it in your house, or the evil spirits will visit you.
Munguu pointed this sheep bone out and was insistent that we do something with it. I certainly didn't want to pick it up and throw it out; it was someone's trash for God's sake, not to mention the bones of some dead animal. Nasty. So he proceeded to try and smash it with his foot. He was wearing these chinsy flip-flops with literally no sole, and it looked hopeless that he would ever have success in breaking the hole apart. I offered my "assistance" and took to stomping on the sheep bone myself. It would not break. I tried a few more times before I gave it my all, and I mean my all, and tried to smash the evil spirits right out of it. When I did this, I felt a sharp pain shoot up the heel of my foot, into my Achilles, and then into my calf, which began to cramp instantaneously. I wanted to cry it hurt so bad! I stopped, bent over, picked up the bone through the hole with my key so I wouldn't touch it, and walked up 10 stairs to the window. When in Mongolia, do as the Mongolians; so I threw it out the window. I hobbled to our apartment wondering what the hell I had done to my leg.
The next morning my leg would prove to be swollen, and the morning after that an enormous bruise began to appear in the calf muscle. As the days passed, it got worse. I didn't know what to do with my injury. After one week had passed, I agreed to go and see Uncle Chojo about it.
After waiting about four hours for a doctor, we finally crossed paths with Uncle Chojo. He looked at it and told me I should stay off it during the weekend. I would also need to put some alcohol on it each night. He also instructed Amaraa to massage it to help the bruise diminish. I followed his orders, and by Monday it was somewhat better. On Thursday, Amaraa and Mama went to the monk. He told them that some bad spirit had entered my body through the bone, and I would need further cleansing. He gave me directions through them (and also for Munguu, because Munguu had touched the bone too) to clean my leg for three nights in a row with some special vodka he had made holy. I also had to throw milk he had made holy each morning for three days. Every morning I had to put on my del, cover my head with a hat, and go out on the balcony and throw one cup of milk while making nine good wishes. So I stood out there with Barbara's del (thanks Barb!), my pink Santa Claus hat, and a coffee mug of milk. I threw it teaspoon by teaspoon as instructed. In any other country, people would have thought I was crazy. Here? Normal. 100% normal.
Whether it was time passing, Uncle Chojo's orders, or the monk's holy ability that healed my leg, it is better now. I spent the weekend running around doing things, and only once in a while did I wince at some minor pain.
Quite interesting.
Amaraa (my husband) was away to Beijing and I was staying alone in our hot-water-less apartment for a few days. I slept one night with no company, and decided the next night it would be nice to have someone stay there with me. Amaraa's youngest brother, Munguu, was nominated as that person.
People don't have much pride as far as getting trash in the trash can; but part of that problem maybe that trash cans are few and far between. So they bag up their trash, throw it in the hallway of the apartment building, out the window, out the front door, whatever is convenient. All along the streets there are heaps of trash just waiting for the wind to come up and blow them around. Stray dogs can always be found dining at such places. The biggest problem with the garbage is in our own apartment building.
We were climbing the stairs to the fifth floor to my apartment. The floors are littered with trash. There is no appropriate place to put your garbage. We even threw ours in a water line hole that was being dug just outside our building. As for our apartment hallways, it largely disgusts me. My dad would have slapped me for throwing so much as a candy wrapped on the ground, let alone a huge sack of miscellaneous garbage.
As Munguu and I were climbing the stairs on that fateful night, we crossed paths with one small sack of a few sheep bones (it's normal!). One of those bones is from the pelvis of the sheep; the bone that connects to the femur and holds the socket of the femur bone. Regardless of its name, it has a hole through the middle. So the Mongolian legend goes, evil spirits come through that hole. At night, you cannot leave it in your house, or the evil spirits will visit you.
Munguu pointed this sheep bone out and was insistent that we do something with it. I certainly didn't want to pick it up and throw it out; it was someone's trash for God's sake, not to mention the bones of some dead animal. Nasty. So he proceeded to try and smash it with his foot. He was wearing these chinsy flip-flops with literally no sole, and it looked hopeless that he would ever have success in breaking the hole apart. I offered my "assistance" and took to stomping on the sheep bone myself. It would not break. I tried a few more times before I gave it my all, and I mean my all, and tried to smash the evil spirits right out of it. When I did this, I felt a sharp pain shoot up the heel of my foot, into my Achilles, and then into my calf, which began to cramp instantaneously. I wanted to cry it hurt so bad! I stopped, bent over, picked up the bone through the hole with my key so I wouldn't touch it, and walked up 10 stairs to the window. When in Mongolia, do as the Mongolians; so I threw it out the window. I hobbled to our apartment wondering what the hell I had done to my leg.
The next morning my leg would prove to be swollen, and the morning after that an enormous bruise began to appear in the calf muscle. As the days passed, it got worse. I didn't know what to do with my injury. After one week had passed, I agreed to go and see Uncle Chojo about it.
After waiting about four hours for a doctor, we finally crossed paths with Uncle Chojo. He looked at it and told me I should stay off it during the weekend. I would also need to put some alcohol on it each night. He also instructed Amaraa to massage it to help the bruise diminish. I followed his orders, and by Monday it was somewhat better. On Thursday, Amaraa and Mama went to the monk. He told them that some bad spirit had entered my body through the bone, and I would need further cleansing. He gave me directions through them (and also for Munguu, because Munguu had touched the bone too) to clean my leg for three nights in a row with some special vodka he had made holy. I also had to throw milk he had made holy each morning for three days. Every morning I had to put on my del, cover my head with a hat, and go out on the balcony and throw one cup of milk while making nine good wishes. So I stood out there with Barbara's del (thanks Barb!), my pink Santa Claus hat, and a coffee mug of milk. I threw it teaspoon by teaspoon as instructed. In any other country, people would have thought I was crazy. Here? Normal. 100% normal.
Whether it was time passing, Uncle Chojo's orders, or the monk's holy ability that healed my leg, it is better now. I spent the weekend running around doing things, and only once in a while did I wince at some minor pain.
Quite interesting.
posted by sheridan | 12:40 AM
1 Comments:
So I haven't had a chance to read the whole thing here (I need some sleep); but aren't they worried about the bubonic plague. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bubonic_plague
...Europe, 14th century, millions of deaths, largely due to poor public health and sanitation. . . . you're way braver than I am, to live in those conditions.
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