Written by Leah Thomas of the University of Pittsburgh
A year ago today, July 24, 2021, you couldn’t have convinced me that I would be here in Mongolia. I wouldn’t have imagined that the ground of this basecamp would have grown so accustomed to my pathways that the grass would lay flat or that I would have watched the Pittsburgh Port Authority busses. This place has gifted me with funny stories to tell, food to eat, water to drink, new academic knowledge, and great new peers. The sound of the footsteps of horse and yak herds quickly replaced the sound of road crossing signs and the creaky gasps of Pittsburgh Port Authority busses. This place has gifted me with funny stories to tell, good food to eat, clean water to drink and great new perspectives to guide me and to share.
Picture by Badmaa D.
In the past five days, we have moved on from our camera trapping project and onto our vansemberuu project. Vansemberuu is a medicinal plant that grows in the talus (rocky cliffsides) here in the Darhad Valley. Vansemberuu is used in traditional medicine here to treat respiratory issues and has a lot of spiritual significance. In Mongolian culture, vansemberuu is called a “human flower”. One night around the fire, Byamba and Ragchaashared shared with us that when the buds poke out of the ground, they are warm like a baby’s head in the winter. They say that it starts to rain when a plant is poached because the sky spirits are unhappy to see their child taken. In ceremonial harvesting of this plant, one might cover themselves so that the spirits cannot see them, and one should only take what they need.
After separating from Russian influence, Mongolia went from a period where nature existed for nature’s sake to a period where nature was exploited for survival. This has changed, though. Recently, overharvesting of vansemberuu has threatened the species. This was due to suddenly losing the structure that Russian presence had given Mongolia during its time there. Due to this cultural shift, the plant has been overly harvested and sold for profit to China and other countries over the past few decades.
The Horidol Saridag Special Protected Area was established about 20 years ago. Since the park was created, there are now core zones where only elders, who the park trusts, can harvest vansemberuu. These areas are under the protection of incredible rangers who oversee many hectares of land (1 hectare= 2.5 acres). They monitor flora and fauna in their designated areas, missing out on opportunities to be with their families. For example, Byamba, one of the rangers that helped us during our vansemberuu work, has missed out on the past 10 Naadam festivals (a festival celebrating the summer) because if seen at the festival, he risks poachers taking advantage of his absence. We saw this exploitation for ourselves while doing the vansemberuu project.
On our first day of the project, a large group of 4 or 5 men, women, and boys stopped by our campsite. It was drizzling and overcast at the time. When asked what they were doing in the area, they explained that they were harvesting medicinal plants and continuing the legacy of the generations that had preceded them. The rangers explained that the area that we were in was not the appropriate area to harvest due to its status as a protected area. The only medicinal plant that could be found specifically in that area was vansemberuu, so it was clear that this was the plant they had come to harvest. Soon after, they left.
After witnessing this, I felt a bit conflicted. On the one hand, I felt discouraged that anyone would further take from land that had been so badly overexploited. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but place myself in the shoes of the woman there. She only wanted to continue her grandmother’s legacy of healing with traditional medicine. I can’t imagine being told I can’t harvest from the same land my grandmother once did.
On our last day of fieldwork at our previous camp in Shar Zurkh, we listened to a chapter from the book Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer (RWK). The chapter called The Gift of Strawberries nestled us into the perspective of a woman who was “raised” by strawberries. She beautifully elaborated that wild strawberries had taught her to treat nature as a gift rather than a commodity. RWK explained how sweet it is to receive this gift. The wild strawberries where she grew up taught her to await the gifts of the land with patience elsewise it would leave a sour taste in her mouth just as an unripe strawberry, white and freckled, would. In the chapter, she shared her wish that the rest of the world might receive nature in this way. With this posture of heart, she believes that we might treat the earth’s abundance with more gratitude and less entitlement. Hopefully, this perspective will lead us to take no more than what we need.
After listening to this and taking some time to reflect on it, our instructor, Badmaa, led us in a discussion. After a while of talking, accompanied by the sound of the converging rivers Asgat and Tsohi,we opened the conversation to the rangers. Badmaa helped to translate, which I was incredibly grateful for after so many long days of fieldwork. Chris, our other instructor, had asked us to reflect on why our work was meaningful. In what way were we giving back to the land that was giving so much to us? Byamba answered the question with so much wisdom. He explained that because the area we were in had been very exploited. Because of this, the land needs time to heal. Our time. By giving our time, we assist in bringing the land back to what it once was. Hopefully, our work can shine a light on how sacred and beautiful the land we stand on is, and the Horidol Saridag area can once again become accessible to and trusted by locals.
Our research on Vansemberuu is to gain more insight into how the populations have changed over the past few years. First, we surveyed 14 10 x 10-meter plots. In these plots, we measured the longest leaf length, stalk height, and the number of leaves of each plant. We tagged new plants with aluminum wire and numbered orchard tags. We made sure to record already tagged plants under the same number marked as a few years ago. Three years ago, another group of Round River students measured and tagged the plants in the exact same 10m2 plots. By analyzing and comparing the measurements we did with the ones that were done before it could, we can better understand how Vansemberuu grows and its life cycle.
After completing the plots over a few days, we then did transects. The purpose of these transects was to begin monitoring the populations of plants. By aging the dead stalks, we could possibly gather data from the past few years of plants rather than just the flowering adult plants of this year. We all worked together to decide how these would work as they hadn’t been done before. We considered how much space side to side we should be accountable for. From what distance are dead stalks still visible? How can we age dead stalks? Should these transects be done with no variation from side to side, or should we prioritize surveying the habitat where Vansemberuu grows? It was a bit frustrating to all agree on our methods, and tensions were sometimes high. We did a practice run of the transects the day before completing them, and we did a quiz on aging the dead stalks so that we would have consistent and accurate data.
I was a bit reluctant to hike out and do these transects because I had a knee injury that had been exacerbated from hiking the previous few days and climbing a talus. On the hike there, I struggled to keep up with the rest of the group. The hills were steep, and after each one we climbed, which I would encourage myself was the top, there was another one that seemed to follow. The view from the top of the pass, though, was beautiful. The sun melted my bad attitude like gritty crystallized honey, and satisfaction spread smoothly onto my expression. Crazily enough, while we were approaching the top of our first transect, we saw two men in the distance stuffing two huge bags with Vansemberuu stalks. At the sight of this, one of the rangers took off running down the hill like an argali sheep and caught them. At first, the poachers were very hostile to the ranger. They were frustrated that they couldn’t harvest from the land that they were from. Later though, after some conversation, Badmaa said they came to an understanding. The poachers understood that since vansemberuu had been so exploited, what they were doing was wrong. It’s amazing that from one conversation, the ranger and the poacher treated each other as friends would and parted ways amicably. So much violence can be avoided by treating people as “enemies” or not with respect.
Chris and I were partners for the transects, so he could be there in case I had issues with my knee. We did the transects at a slow pace, allowing plenty of time to chat, appreciate the views, and stop and smell the flowers. Literally, stop and smell the flowers. Vansemberuu has such a beautiful scent, almost like the smell of roses. Although it was a beautiful day, I couldn’t help but be discouraged by all the stalks we encountered. They were cut right from the base of their stalks by the two men we had seen earlier and, I’d assume, others. Seven out of the 20 flowering stalks that we recorded had been cut. This experience reinforced for me the importance of the work that we were doing. It made all the painful steps, slips, and slides on the rocky slopes worth it.
This week we have so much work to do. We have presentations to prepare for, papers to write, and some homework to complete, but I will go into the week with newfound pride in what we have accomplished here and what more we will accomplish. As I write this, our ger filled with clicking keyboards, the buzz of flies and mosquitos, the chatter of grasshopper, and the smell of aaruul, I can’t help but be grateful. I’d like to thank Ganhuyag, who assembled this shelter, and Amka, our cook, for all the nourishing meals and enduring long hikes as we moved camp during our fieldwork. I’d like to thank Badmaa and Chris for the many hours put into planning our trip, the rangers Nyam-Ochir Duujii, Byamba, and Ragchaa. I’d like to thank the park for trusting us to do work in core areas. Thank you Tumursukh Jal, and park manager Lhagwa. Big thank you to our drivers Buk and Chinbold. A special shoutout to Badmaa and the rangers who had to deal with our very naughty pack horses. Shoutout also to the pack horses for toughing out the trails. Big thank you to the rivers for the water we had to drink during our many miles of travel, the trees for shade, the sun for warmth, the flowers and herbs for the beauty, and tea and spice. Also, thank you to anyone who has taken the time to read this.
