VANISHING TRADITION

Mongolia’s reindeer herders fear a loss of identity under hunting ban. Pictures by Thomas Peter, story by Natalie Thomas in Tsagaannuur

Erdenebat Chuluu, a nomadic herder, shouts words of encouragement to the reindeer he is riding. “Chu! Chu!” he calls, as he urges the animal out of a grove of cedars and onto a plain in the southern reaches of the Mongolian taiga, a predominantly forested area 200 kilometres from the nearest paved road.

Once in the open, the beast and its rider gingerly step over fallen trees and navigate creeks of melted snow, seemingly oblivious to a late winter chill.

Chuluu has lived all his life in the centuries-old tradition of his Dukha ancestors, renowned for their reindeer-herding and hunter-gathering skills in the forests of the rugged Sayan Mountains straddling the Russian border.

But the Dukha fear they are losing their identity in the face of a conservation order by the government that bans unlicensed hunting on most of their traditional land.

Reindeer outperform horses on this steep and snowy terrain and have allowed the Dukha to evade many of the upheavals that have afflicted people in the lowlands, from Genghis Khan to Communism.

Chuluu’s people, around 280 of them, are spread out across 59 households, about a day’s ride from the village of Tsagaannuur.

“It’s our will to maintain the tradition of herding the reindeer in the same way as our ancestors did,” Chuluu said.

In 2012, the government designated the majority of the traditional Dukha herding grounds as part of a national park in an attempt to protect an ecosystem ravaged in the preceding two decades.

During that period, a Soviet-era quota system for hunting, which had provided a living for people like the Dukha and maintained wildlife numbers, broke down. The Dukha and others began to aggressively hunt animals including moose and red deer for the Chinese market, seriously depleting their numbers.

Now, the government pays the herders a monthly handout to compensate for the hunting ban, but many Dukha feel they have lost half of their identity.

The hunting tradition has always defined a man in the taiga, said Chuluu’s neighbour.

“It feels like we’ve lost something because we can’t move to whichever area we like in this land, which has been handed down to us from our ancestors,” said Naran-Erdene Bayar, 26.

The head ranger of the National Park, Tumursukh Jal, grew up in the area and knows the Dukha history well. He insisted they must follow the law.

“It’s not about Dukha or Mongolian, it’s about people illegally hunting,” he said.

Meanwhile, on the taiga, herders release hundreds of reindeer from a pen to graze.

After lifting the beams of the hold, the herd pours into the clearing and the animals, snouts nuzzling the snow-covered ground in search of moss, disappear from view as the evening light fades.

“It feels like we’ve lost something because we can’t move to whichever area we like in this land, which has been handed down to us from our ancestors” NARAN-ERDENE BAYAR

MAIN PHOTO Reindeer lick salt off the coat of a Dukha nomad in her family’s camp near the village of Tsagaannuur in Mongolia.

LEFT Dukha reindeer herder Erdenebat Chuluu rests as he travels with his animals to visit neighbours near Tsagaannuur.

Local doctor Davaajav Nyamaa rides a reindeer to visit nomads in the forest near Tsagaannuur.

BELOW Ethnic Dukha nomad Jargal Gombosed holds her grandchild outside her family’s reindeer pen.

LEFT Davaajargal Taivan stands outside the house her nomadic family decided to rent in Tsagaannuur, so that they would have a fixed place to stay while she and her brother attend school.

Tsetse, the six-year-old daughter of Dukha herder Erdenebat Chuluu, rests among her family’s reindeer.

Baigalmaa Munkhbat prepares food for her family of reindeer herders in their tent near Tsagaannuur.

BELOW Jargal Gombosed talks with her daughter and granddaughter in their tent.