When I visited in January 2009, he felt safe enough to tell the real story as he remembers it.
Baaskaa grew up with Mr. Munkbat, who he presumed to be his father and whose name he shares. He doesn’t know or remember his mother. His upbringing wasn’t a very tender or happy one; Mr. Munkbat was an alcoholic and would send Baaskaa out to work to support the family. But Baaskaa did go to school during these years. One alcohol-fueled night, when Baaskaa was about eight, he overheard Mr. Munkbat brag to a friend that he found Baaskaa on the street as a toddler. Baaskaa was shocked and confronted his father, who confirmed it.
The relationship worsened from that point on, due to Mr. Munkbat’s alcoholism and increasingly violent behavior, so Baaskaa ran away.
Sometimes I ask questions, sometimes he tells stories, but my knowledge of Baaskaa’s life on the street is very fragmented. In the winter he slept in manholes, in entrances or under staircases of apartment houses; in the summer he would sleep in parks or woods close to the city. He made a living by collecting bottles and cans or other recyclable goods and washing cars at traffic lights. When he got older he worked in construction during the summers. He also told me some horrible stories about a Chinese aluminum company that hired street children but the working conditions and accidents that happened on the job were so scary, that Baaskaa quit.
At some point Baaskaa went back to Mr. Munkbat. His yurt, Baaskaa’s former home, had burnt down and Mr. Munkbat, drunk as usual, chased him away, telling him to go back to the streets.
I asked Baaskaa if he would like to find Mr. Munkbat and offered to go with him. Baaskaa declined: “No need to see that man”.
Baaskaa tried to stay out of trouble, always afraid of ending up in prison. Street children like Baaskaa are often very small for their age because of the constant malnourishment. Older kids or teenagers often tried to force him to participate in break-ins, as he was small enough to be pushed through windows.
When I met Baaskaa, he ‘lived’ with a younger boy, whom he treated and looked after like a brother. He dreamed about doing another summer of construction work and saving enough money to buy a yurt for the two of them.
That’s what impressed me so about Baaskaa. He had a plan, he had hopes for a better future, and he really tried to stay out of trouble. At first he told me that he had lived with his grandparents for a couple years, who taught him to be a good person. Later I found out that he doesn’t remember having grandparents, so maybe he just dreamed about friendly people who tried to teach him something, or maybe there were some people in his life, momentarily, who actually cared.
What I do know is that when we initially stayed at Byambaa’s farm, Baaskaa took three stones and played ‘family life’, mother, father and son. The next day he took three sticks and played the same game again, tenderly covering the ‘son’ stick in a leaf when it was bedtime. When he sees similar items that have two different sizes, he calls them ‘family’. Maybe it was an extreme wish and hope for family that kept him alive and straight.
Under no circumstances would I have missed such an important event in his life. It is hard to believe that it is only a little over two years ago that we first met and he told me his story. I am very proud of him and impressed with what he has achieved in such a short time.
But then suddenly Baaskaa’s name was announced over the loud speakers – he was awarded for excellent leadership as the head of his dormitory for the two years he had been a pupil. He received a large golden medal and a framed certificate.
I picked a Korean restaurant, which the boys didn’t like. At first I didn’t understand, because they kept affirming that they like Korean food, while insisting on leaving. Finally Baaskaa pointed at the prices – they thought it was too expensive. When I explained that this was a special evening, they agreed to make an exception and we stayed.
Once that was settled, I surprised Baaskaa with a present. I realized that I had never given him a present. Yes, I brought him many things, but mostly hand me downs, and if I had bought something especially for him, I pretended that it was a hand me down, because I didn’t wanted to create the impression that he was favored. He was very surprised that I made a big deal out of giving him this little white box (close your eyes, open your hand, now you can open your eyes) until he realized it was an iPod – he was speechless!
It was Baaskaa’s dream to own an iPod. Every time I came, he took mine and I never got it back until we said good-bye. He is a teenager, of course he loves listening to music and of course he knows it’s cool to have an iPod, no one he knows in Mongolia has one, as they cost a fortune. He had saved up for months to buy himself an MFP player, which was already on the verge of falling apart. I caught him so off guard that he almost cried. But before he even unpacked the ipod, he handed his MFP player to Davaa.
We spent almost two days on our mini road trip, which was a bit ill conceived, as it was freezing cold, with strong winds and snow.
On the way back, while we drove through yet another small town, Baaskaa became antsy and asked to stop, because he wanted to visit his friends. That’s often how it goes; out of the blue I get some fragmented, yet important information. Which friends, how does he know them, when did he live here, … I started rattling off questions.
But the surprises didn’t stop there. After we left the town, Baaskaa pointed out sightseeing spots here and there. When I asked how he knew the area so well, he responded with a smile: “I built the road we are driving on”.
I have the feeling that this was the first time that adults took him seriously, treated him with respect and appreciated his contribution. I am sure this experience influenced him and made him want to become an excavator driver. He was always very sure about his choice of profession and I never understood why. Now I do!
It reminded me how important it is to communicate. I could have known this story since two years, which would have made it easier for me to understand him and which would have filled at least one gap of knowledge about his life, his upbringing and his history. I always sensed that there was more to his choice of profession than just the wish to make money. But I didn’t ask, I just settled. I looked at the road ahead of me disappearing into the horizon and I tried to picture Baaskaa, as a skinny 12-year-old boy, working with fully-grown men and oversized machines, building a major highway. Even though I admire his survival skills, it is not a pretty picture.
Back in UB, I had one more mission to fulfill; I wanted Baaskaa to have a passport. Baaskaa and I set out to the registration office. As soon as we saw the sea of people waiting, Baaskaa pulled me back and said we should leave; he and Ayurzana would come back and take care of it. I thought he was overwhelmed, I definitely was, but I didn’t want to give up. If Ayurzana had been with us, he would have been in charge, and we would have just followed. I wanted Baaskaa and I to figure it out. It was overwhelming, but I know that Baaskaa has handled much worse. Yet getting a passport involves dealing with institutions, officials, and people in uniform, which is something that he doesn’t have experience with. So I suggested getting at least the pictures done. We found the booth and the photographer combed his hair, straightened out his T-shirt and took the picture. While we were waiting, I saw the application form lying around, so I asked where we could get one. She answered in Mongolian, of course, which I didn’t understand, so I asked Baaskaa and he led me to the office where they hand out the forms. Once we were holding the application, I tried the trick again, and we were told where we could pay - and so on. After the third time, Baaskaa didn’t wait for me anymore, he figured out what to do next by himself. Three hours and six offices later we had successfully applied for his passport.
On my last day I dropped Baaskaa off at Byambaa’s. Baaskaa was happy to go home, he hadn’t been on the farm for more than two months. Everyone was so excited to have him back and see his graduation certificate. I had a brief conversation with Byambaa in which I asked if he considered Baaskaa a family member or if he believed that Baaskaa was now an adult and should be self-sufficient. With an almost pained expression, Byambaa whispered that he considered all the children living with him to be his family and that he’d never ask them to leave, unless they expressed the wish to do so. I wasn’t surprised to hear that, but I wanted to have the conversation, I wanted to make sure we said it out loud, to be certain.
Apparently Byambaa and Byaraa were aware of the issue as well, so they discussed their plans with Baaskaa and asked him to help them choose the new kids. As a result they invited first Batbileg to live with them in November and Enkhtsetseg joined them in January. I was relieved and impressed that they handled the situation so delicately.
It also gave him the chance to choose kids he likes! He and Batbileg became very close and after three months of living together, it seems like Baaskaa finally got the younger brother he always longed for.
During this trip our relationship developed in a new direction. It felt like Baaskaa took on our responsibilities, rather then being a participant of the program. When I scrambled to get a workshop off the ground for the care center kids, I turned to Baaskaa for help. I wasn’t able to find a fitting story to read to them, nor did I know who should read it.
Baaskaa immediately had an idea. He recognized a fairy tale in one of the books I bought. It was a Mongolian fairy tale about a poor boy on a quest and Baaskaa knew the story by heart. Naturally, I asked him to participate in the workshop as the storyteller. He loved that idea!
After he finished, he continued to run the workshop according to our discussion. He instructed the kids to write about their favorite character and oversaw their participation. He was available for questions and motivated the ones who weren’t motivated.
I couldn’t help it, I was so proud of him. It was only 20 month ago, that I sat in the exact same room, for the first time, seeing him one of the kids, in almost the same group of kids – and now he was ‘on the other side’, helping them and inspiring them.
As a friend once said to me, there is no greater reward for a parent, than to see your children being good parents. I saw him taking care of the kids, treating them tenderly and with respect, giving back and enjoying it! That moment was my biggest reward!
Ayurzana, Khosoo and I dropped off Baaskaa in Baganuur, a mining town three hours away from UB, where he will conclude his education with three month of practical training as excavator driver.
We made sure to introduce ourselves to Baaska’s new head teacher. I informed him that Baaskaa is one of the five best pupils in his class and that he aims to continue to be just that in the practical sessions. I wanted to let the teacher know that he is dealing with an ambitious young man, but I also wanted to teach Baaskaa that he has to communicate his goals, so people in charge know who he is and can help him. I am sure the teacher will now follow Baaskaa’s development in class more closely, as well as Baaskaa will feel more motivated by stating his ambition to himself and others.
Baaskaa seems to have settled into his family for good. Selenge told me that whenever she calls him to check in, he tells her how wonderful his life is on the farm and how much he likes to work with Byambaa and the animals. That is quite a contrast to the first year, when he was more oriented towards the city life.
I had a great time with Baaskaa. We went herding together – not so successful on my end, since I lost a sheep, which haunts me to this day. Loosing a sheep means it becomes dinner for a wolf or a hawk. Very embarrassing. But Baaskaa, behaving like the grown up man he is now, tried to comfort me and assured me it happens all the time. I doubt that, but it was nice to see how much he enjoyed being able to do something for me.
Baaskaa started his second and final year of school. This semester will be much more oriented towards practical pursuits. He will go out and actually work with an excavator! And he will have several tests and examinations. His graduation will be in May 2010. I can not wait to see him graduating, with a certificate of education, a profession, and a small herd of animals, all his own!
Baaskaa seems to have grown up; he is no longer a boy, but a young man. In his last letter he expressed his excitement about being able to work as an excavator driver next year, which was always his wish, but he is also is starting to think that he’d like to own a business. Like father like son! I guess Byambaa’s experience and expertise is bearing fruits.
Six weeks before his first year graduation, the students in his dorm revolted because the food they got served was very bad and unappetizing. The administration offered to give the students the funds spent on food and let them take care of themselves, which they happily agreed to. The students went shopping and cooked as a group. Unfortunately they ran out of money after two weeks, and were left with bread and milk only for the remaining time. Quite an experiment, but I guess they all learnt something. Hopefully the school will take the hint and use some better quality food and spices.
Without any family members to ask, Baaskaa didn’t know where he was born, so it was hard to track down any documentation that confirmed his birth. Somehow Ayurzana and Khosoo worked it out and Baaskaa will now be an independent and act with the full authority of an adult.
For someone who had nothing and cannot remember his family or where he comes from, it means a lot to be able to show a passport, confirming you are in fact a citizen of your birth country!
Baaskaa immediately showed me a certificate he got in school for being a very good student, regarding his grades and his behavior. The certificate was framed and hung in the ‘living room’ area of the yurt. I could tell how proud he was.
Baaskaa and I left for the city, leaving poor Byambaa alone on the farm. I arrived a couple days after New Year’s, so his family was still in the city on extended holidays. Baaskaa told me that he and Byambaa went to the childcare center to celebrate, because Ayurzana organized the first New Year’s party for the kids, and then they went to another celebration with Byambaa’s family.
Baaskaa was so excited to tell me all this, everything was a first for him. I was so happy to see how close Byambaa and Baaskaa had grown. No one would ever believe they are not father and son. Byambaa was as proud about Baaskaa’s school certificate as Baaskaa!
Once in the city we had a great time. We moved into a small hostel, where we had a room with bunk beds, a TV and kitchen access. During the last week, Baaskaa started to cook for us, as getting food turned out to be difficult. Baaskaa, like every other kid, doesn’t like to eat what he doesn’t know, and I don’t eat meat. I depended on him ordering for me, and as a result I ate a lot of plain white rice, as ‘white food’ was the only word he knew in English. He felt inadequate for not being able to take better care of me, so after a while he didn’t want to go out at all. He was used to not eating for days, I wasn’t!
Baaskaa was excited to spend time in the city and I was excited to let him be a kid on vacation. We went ice skating, sledding, saw a movie, did some sight seeing, saw a traditional dance and music presentation, and just hung out.
We also went to visit his school, in the Nalaikh province. I met his teachers, who sang his praises. Baaskaa asked me why I wanted to see his school and I explained to him that I wanted to have a mental image of where he spends all his time. I also wanted to meet his teachers and present myself as an authority figure, to let them know that he has backup and is not alone, even if he doesn’t have immediate family. Baaskaa’s smile went from ear to ear when he heard that, and then, in his dry, short, Mongolian way, he said, “Then let’s go”.
The school is an old mining town, which still has a very Russian feel to it. It’s a huge school with integrated dormitories. I learnt that Baaskaa is the one in charge of his dormitory room. The classroom was one of those locations that made my heart beat faster, as a filmmaker.
I introduced Baaskaa to the computer, showed him New York, my neighborhood with Google Earth and we watched a lot, a lot of Hip Hop videos.
I also played the UN movie for him. In the movie, he is telling us about his life, his wishes and his past. Baaskaa couldn’t make it through, he immediately started to cry, and when the part came up, where he talks about his past and family, he just closed the computer. I take that as a good sign. Who knows how he managed to stay such an amazing, open kid? It seems like a miracle to me. But being able to express himself and be connected to his emotions makes me believe that he will be just fine and have a great future.
October - November 2008: Baaskaa’s teachers are very happy with his ability to learn and to catch up with the class, despise his 8 years of missing school. Becoming a driver of heavy construction machinery was always Baaskaa’s dream and he is very excited that it will be fulfilled now.
He is living in a dormitory, connected to the school and goes home for the weekend. If he cannot catch a ride to Byambaa’s farm, he stays in Ayurzana’s Child Care Facility.
Selenge is looking after him in the city and helps him to sort thing out, from dealing with tuition payments to getting a cell phone.
He is also learning English, so I am looking forward to the day that I will receive my first English letter from him!
September 2008: Baaskaa starts school in Nalaikh, a small mining town close to Ulaanbaatar.
As Mongolia is very familiar with the issue of homeless children, they have a sophisticated school system, which allows children who haven’t attended school regularly to be evaluated according to their knowledge, rather than age. They’re then sent to a designated school that is specialized to help these children obtain a certificate of education that enables them to go to college or learn a profession.
Baaskaa is in one of these schools. It’s a 2-year program, offering general education and a vocational training program, which will leave him with a certificate for driving heavy industrial machines, as used for construction.
August 2008: I received my first letter from Baaskaa. He is happy & healthy. Byambaa taught him how to herd and care for the animals, pigs, cows, sheep and chicken and how to grow a vegetable garden. And Byambaa kept his word! When he bought his children bicycles, Baaskaa got one too! Baaskaa is very exciting, because he will attend school in September, for the first time in 8 years!
In May 2008 I scraped together some money and returned to Mongolia, to help Baaskaa to find a permanent home and schooling. Ayurzana had held him in the care center, so he wouldn’t get lost on the streets. I presented Baaskaa with the opportunity to live with Byambaa, a former army man and now animal herder and farmer who was a friend of Ayurzana and agreed to take Baaskaa in exchange for help as a herder. Baska had previous experience as a herder, with a family that ‘hired’ him off the street for food and lodging. Turned out he had to do all the work and food and lodging was rather sparse and inadequate.
We went out to buy Baaskaa everything he needed: socks, shoes, underwear, toothbrush, he had nothing! We also bought a yurt, so he could live independently on Byambaa’s farm. As Ayurzana put it, we bought him everything but the bride. Baaskaa had no idea what was happening to him, but in between he looked at me and smiled a big smile. The same day we went back out to Byambaa’s farm, which is an hour away from the city and with the help of a couple of the police men from the center, we set up the yurt next to Byambaa’s. I stayed with Baaskaa that first night and flew back home the next day.
