Quiet on the inner Asian Front

Delivery (oh) boy

Another nice thing about working for a weekly is that occasionally you deliver newspapers. The job harkens back to old people’s childhoods, when those once young and industrious Americans woke up early, grabbed their bikes and threw papers at neighbors’ houses. But, with my editor’s model sister out of town for the week, I did my harkening in the passenger seat of her air-conditioned Lexus SUV.

With UB Post editor Sumiyabazar at the wheel, we took to the wild roads of Ulaanbaatar (the publicity lady normally does deliveries, but she called in sick). We dropped off eleven papers at an English book/wine store, 10 at a crazy German lady’s café, 3 for international clients at the post office, and five at an Indian restaurant in a five star hotel (one for which the UB Post’s parent company owns a controlling interest). At 400-500 Togrogs per paper—a little less than 40-50 cents—we covered the cost of gas for the afternoon.

Burn noticed

Each stop was interesting in its own way—complete with haggling and the calling of mangers— but the luxury hotel stop proved the most memorable because next door to this grand building, inside and outside of which everything seems to be functioning normally, sits the burned shell of Mongolia’s People’s Revolutionary Party Headquarters.

A week and a half before I arrived in Ulaanbaatar, a riot erupted in the city following nationwide parliamentary election results that showed the ruling MPRP retained a majority. Some members of the opposition Democratic Party declared the election tainted and took to the streets. Somehow, what started as a non-violent demonstration turned bad.

Protest, Mr.

Rioters attacked the People’s Party headquarters and then looted the neighboring Modern Art Museum. Neither of the hefty Russian-styled buildings have any windows left intact. Their concrete facades are singed from Molotov Cocktails, and the front of the party headquarters is splattered with blood-red paint in several places at various (sometimes impressive) heights.

During the riot, outnumbered police officers called the Army for backup. At least five people died, many were injured, including a photographer for the UB Post, who members of the staff visited in the hospital today. I saw B.Byamba-Ochir or Mr. Protest (a nick-name earned from previous protest coverage) smile and laugh with his guests, but he admitted that it made him tired. It took three days of surgery to put a plate in his head and he still wears a white bandage around his head; he doesn’t remember anything, but it looks like a rock hit him.

Nothing out of the ordinary

By the time I arrived in the city, however, there were almost no signs of the recent violence (only the damaged buildings and the continuing media coverage). All told, 700 people were arrested during the riot, but if turmoil still simmers on the streets of Mongolia, I have yet to notice (protests have occurred in Mongolia before: a famous one ended peacefully in the 90’s when a tragic hero of Mongolian democracy, Sanjaasuren Zorig, stood on a friends shoulders and reasoned with an angry mob as it tried to enter the parliament building).

Various election monitors have issued reports regarding the legitimacy of the election (some say fair and some say foul) and the Democratic Party has threatened to boycott the creation of a new parliament. As these stories unfold, there may be more overt signs of political and civil action, but until then it looks like business goes on as usual in Ulaanbaatar.

Work starts again in earnest on Monday and it looks like I will have my first assignment writing about the Calvary of Chinggis Khan.