Called to Gobi

by D. I. Telbat

  "Wow. It's great to hear your voice. Everyone thinks you're dead. Praise God, you're not!"

  "My plane went down southwest of Tavan Bogd Uul. And my pilot was killed, an American named Rex, but I escaped without injury. I'm mailing you a package tomorrow with details to get to the embassy in Ulaanbaatar."

  "Okay, I'll take care of it. How are you? Where are you?"

  "I'm in Bulgan now. And I'm doing okay, living with a nomadic clan. You can pray for me, because it's not without its difficulties, but I'm reaching the people with the Gospel and finding a small life in which I can be used."

  "Oh, that's wonderful! So are you even going to come east?"

  "Maybe next spring," I said. "Listen, I'll be in Hasagt in two weeks. Is it possible to send me a package of Bibles?"

  "Absolutely. We just got some in from Irkutsk. It helps to have the only international railroad nearby. How many do you need?"

  "Can you spare five?"

  "I'll have them waiting at Hasagt station. Anything to pass on to Gino? He emails me twice a day for news on you."

  "Tell him I'm well. God is gracious. And I'm mailing you letters for him in your package tomorrow."

  "If you're ready for Bibles, does that mean you're already breaking down the Lamaism barrier?"

  "Not without tension, Randy. How are things there?"

  "We have two congregations, but they seem stagnant. I was really looking forward to your arrival to shake things up. There's also been some refugees pouring in off the railroad from China. Things are getting pretty hostile in the south, Andy. Wars and rumors of wars, as the Bibles says."

  "Watch and be ready," I reminded us from Scripture. "Maybe I can come after winter if the Lord wills. I'd leave now, but I'm neck deep in sharing with hungry souls."

  "That's great, Andy. I'll spread the word that you're alive and we'll wait for your package."

  "I may not be able to reach you again until May."

  "May?"

  "Unless it's by letter. I'll do my best to set up a mailbox in Hasagt. How's that?"

  "Yes, do that! We'll help you with costs, just let us know. You need to stay in touch. No telling when you'll need a few more Bibles."

  "All right, Randy. Say hello to the family. Sorry I couldn't make it out there."

  "Hey, you're preaching the Word where you are, so don't even apologize. God bless, Andy. We'll be praying."

  "You as well. Bye."

  When I hung up, I sighed aloud as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. There's a certain comfort in the fact that the people you care about, who also care about you, know your condition. Perhaps that's a superficial identification, but I was once again connected with the outside world. They couldn't do much for me in many respects. But Bibles and prayer? That was a priceless connection!

  My rented room was actually heated! The bathroom was a community situation down the hall, and though I was bone-tired, I showered in hot water. I redressed in my dirty clothes since my pack and belongings were with the clan. Before I bothered hunting down a razor, I decided to let my beard grow to protect my otherwise tender skin since winter was fast approaching. On a spring mattress, I fell asleep, my Bible on my chest, its pages open to Psalm thirty-four. There was certainly joy in serving the Lord.

  In the morning, I took advantage of my late checkout and lay in bed until mid-morning. I knew it would be one of the last times for many months that I'd be able to relax in relative quiet. Besides, the clan wouldn't move on for a few days, not until Squirrel was free of IVs. My few responsibilities with the clan did call at me, though, and I hastened to plan my errands after another hot shower. Lastly, I wrote a final note for Gino, then one to Randy.

  At the Hasagt Bank of Commerce, I exchanged the remainder of my funds into tugriks. I was left with over a hundred thousand tugriks, a small fortune by nomadic standards.

  At the post office, I packaged up pages of my journal and my letters into a secure envelope and sent them on their way. I had included approximate coordinates of my downed plane for the embassy to recover Rex's body. Chances were that Rex would stay where he lay since the area was both remote and soon to be under several feet of snow at that elevation. For loved ones whom Rex may have left behind, I made sure it was known he'd called upon God in his final moments of life. Some would be comforted by that news. Others would be angry, but I couldn't stress over things in God's able hands.

  I was one errand short of returning to the clan, and I found myself in a delicate situation. Zima couldn't come into town herself, so I'd agreed to select a present for her. But Zima and I both knew it was more than just a gift I'd be delivering. In truth, it was an item of courtship, which made me uneasy since Zima wasn't a follower of Christ, yet there was some escalating romance.

  Now, I had learned to take II Corinthians 6:14 literally. So, being yoked to a nonbeliever would be a recipe for a life of sin for me. The flesh would always chase sin, so Christians must live by the Spirit. We see that fact over and over in the Old Testament when God instructed His people not to intermarry with pagans. But the Israelites didn't listen and often fell for their wives' gods.

  Also in my mind were Paul's words in Corinthians as he reasoned for the single man or woman. There were advantages within the ministry for staying single. Thus, I had decided long before if I were to marry, she would first be a believer and like-minded with me, and second, she would be a mutual helpmate in our efforts to spread the Gospel. The gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable, and I couldn't allow anything or anyone to come before my work for the Lord.

  So, why was I picking out a gift for Zima? I prayed my intentions were pure.

  I bought her a mirror twice the size of my hand, rimmed with flowery decorations. It was made of flexible plastic, making it safe for travel, but it reflected as well as glass. And as for the rest of the clan, I purchased South Korean chocolates. Though Gan-gaad hated foreigners, I hadn't heard him mention the Koreans directly, so I hoped I wasn't overstepping my generosity.

  *~*

  Chapter 10

  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 lo
ng 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."