Similar to the Chinese New Year, Mongolians celebrate the auspicious lunar new moon, the Tsagaan Sar, to commence a new year and a new beginning. Tsagaan Sar literally means “white moon.”
The celebrations mark the hope for prosperous and joyous times ahead. Many of the symbols surround the giving and receiving of food. For example, a full stomach represents a full year with everything coming in abundance.
I joined in the festivities with a visit to my colleague’s grandparents’ apartment. Grandfather greeted me first by placing a blue silk sash over his open arms and embracing me. It is traditional to place your hands underneath the older person’s elbows as a gesture of support – to support them physically, spiritually, emotionally and financially in the future. Grandmother then greeted me with two touches to each cheek. Most of the elderly wore their traditional clothes of silk gowns tied with an ornate sash or intricate silver belt.
The gentlemen opened their snuff bottles – antique glass with coloured stoppers. They are generally kept in a silk pouch. Grandfather placed snuff on the back of my hand and I inhaled to clear my nostrils and head, in preparation for the meal. This was not the first time I had used snuff, so I was prepared and knew the snuff etiquette.
Before eating, a large round silver tea-bowl was placed in front of me with steaming hot Mongolian milk tea (suutei tsai). It was sweet and warming. Cold airag or koumiss, that looks similar to the milky tea, is actually fermented mare’s milk, or deer milk, with an alcohol content of 3%. A large piece of boiled lamb was at the centre of the dining table – the biggest sheep the family can afford – full of fat, a fortunate sign. The lamb has delicious flavour. Accompanying the lamb were plates of potato (niislel) salad and vegetable (nogoon) salad. These I could help myself to, without them ladling piles onto my plate, because everything should be tasted. To one side of the table was the traditional ul boov – a veritable mountain of layers and layers of large biscuits, more as a decoration than a dessert. They say that young people have three stacks of biscuits; middle-aged people have five stacks; and grandparents have seven stacks. As we were in the grandparents’ house, there were seven stacks. It must be an odd number of stacks to bring luck. Dried sour milk curd (arrul) and candy decorate the top of the stack. Arrul can be hard or soft and is like candy but not very tasty – I found it dry and powdery. On the other side of the table were bowls of lollies, fresh fruit and dried fruit (apricots and dates).
A further sign of wealth is the number of buuz people make – buuz is steamed mutton (khoniny makh) dumplings. It’s a good sign if the fat oozes out. Again, I found it tasty and a lot like Chinese dumplings, but with extra fat. They make enough to feed an army and these are passed around during the meal. The say that some families place a silver coin in one of the dumplings, and the person who finds it is said to be extremely fortunate. During the meal, grandfather pours his best vodka (arkhi). A few of them make the -28C temperatures seem not so cold after all.
The celebrations mark the hope for prosperous and joyous times ahead. Many of the symbols surround the giving and receiving of food. For example, a full stomach represents a full year with everything coming in abundance.
I joined in the festivities with a visit to my colleague’s grandparents’ apartment. Grandfather greeted me first by placing a blue silk sash over his open arms and embracing me. It is traditional to place your hands underneath the older person’s elbows as a gesture of support – to support them physically, spiritually, emotionally and financially in the future. Grandmother then greeted me with two touches to each cheek. Most of the elderly wore their traditional clothes of silk gowns tied with an ornate sash or intricate silver belt.
The gentlemen opened their snuff bottles – antique glass with coloured stoppers. They are generally kept in a silk pouch. Grandfather placed snuff on the back of my hand and I inhaled to clear my nostrils and head, in preparation for the meal. This was not the first time I had used snuff, so I was prepared and knew the snuff etiquette.
Before eating, a large round silver tea-bowl was placed in front of me with steaming hot Mongolian milk tea (suutei tsai). It was sweet and warming. Cold airag or koumiss, that looks similar to the milky tea, is actually fermented mare’s milk, or deer milk, with an alcohol content of 3%. A large piece of boiled lamb was at the centre of the dining table – the biggest sheep the family can afford – full of fat, a fortunate sign. The lamb has delicious flavour. Accompanying the lamb were plates of potato (niislel) salad and vegetable (nogoon) salad. These I could help myself to, without them ladling piles onto my plate, because everything should be tasted. To one side of the table was the traditional ul boov – a veritable mountain of layers and layers of large biscuits, more as a decoration than a dessert. They say that young people have three stacks of biscuits; middle-aged people have five stacks; and grandparents have seven stacks. As we were in the grandparents’ house, there were seven stacks. It must be an odd number of stacks to bring luck. Dried sour milk curd (arrul) and candy decorate the top of the stack. Arrul can be hard or soft and is like candy but not very tasty – I found it dry and powdery. On the other side of the table were bowls of lollies, fresh fruit and dried fruit (apricots and dates).
A further sign of wealth is the number of buuz people make – buuz is steamed mutton (khoniny makh) dumplings. It’s a good sign if the fat oozes out. Again, I found it tasty and a lot like Chinese dumplings, but with extra fat. They make enough to feed an army and these are passed around during the meal. The say that some families place a silver coin in one of the dumplings, and the person who finds it is said to be extremely fortunate. During the meal, grandfather pours his best vodka (arkhi). A few of them make the -28C temperatures seem not so cold after all.
MARTINA NICOLLS is an international
aid and development consultant, and the author of:- The Shortness of
Life: A Mongolian Lament (2015), Liberia’s Deadest Ends (2012), Bardot’s Comet
(2011), Kashmir on a Knife-Edge (2010) and The Sudan Curse (2009).
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