Child jockeys race back to their heritage

Published on Saturday 12 July 2008 19:43

THE boy rode the stallion in a trot around the camp, cooling it down after a lengthy ride across the steppe, humming his favourite Mongolian hip-hop songs.

Nearby, in the family's round felt tent, or ger, his father strung a wire from a satellite dish to a big-screen television. His mother paced around in high-heeled boots.

"When I'm in the city, I miss my horses," said the boy, 13-year-old Munkherdene. "When I'm in the countryside, I miss my friends and games. I really miss my PlayStation."

Such is the life of a city slicker turned child jockey in the wilds of Mongolia.

Munkherdene's family is among a growing number of Mongolians from the traffic-choked capital, Ulan Bator, trying to get back to their nomad roots. His father is a successful businessman, importing electronics, bicycles and mining equipment from Japan. But like many affluent Mongolians these days, he also breeds racehorses.

"This summer I was going to send him to Singapore to improve his English," the father, Enkhbayar, said. "But he decided to stay with me to help with the horses."

Horse racing is becoming increasingly popular across the same Central Asian steppes where Genghis Khan and his warrior hordes once galloped. The biggest race of the year takes place this weekend, 30 miles west of the capital.

It is part of the annual Naadam Festival, a gathering that matters more to Mongolians than the Olympics. Children as young as five ride in races that can be dangerous, with hundreds of horses thundering across the open plain all at once, running at speeds approaching 50mph. More than 1,800 horses will race over the weekend.

As the competition intensifies, businessmen are importing larger horses from foreign lands to breed with the small Mongolian horses, the prize money is getting heftier and owners are transporting horses to competitions in trucks and trailers rather than riding them.

Other traditions are changing too: horse racing was once among what Mongolians called the "three manly sports" (alongside wrestling and archery), but girl jockeys have started to appear. At its heart, though, horse racing is still as rustic an experience as drinking fermented mare's milk, and as deeply embedded in its culture.

Munkherdene and Enkhbayar, 49, spend their summers travelling from race to race, sleeping in the family's richly appointed version of the traditional ger, one that cost thousands of dollars and elicits approving looks from passers-by.

Enkhbayar, a father of four, watched as Munkherdene, wearing a red Manchester United shirt, jumped off the stallion and tethered it to a post. Racing aside, he seems like any 13-year-old boy from any world capital. Last month he stayed up late to watch the Euro 2008 football tournament.

Until the 20th century, horses were in the blood of all Mongolians, whose language has more than 70 words to describe the animals' colouring. When a great horse dies, its skull is placed atop a cairn on a mountain, and Mongolians make offerings at those sites.

Mongolian horses are short and stubby, but that is exactly what helped Genghis Khan conquer half the known world. His warriors could leap on and off their horses in the middle of battle. They also learned to whirl around and shoot arrows while riding away from their enemies.

Horse racing prize money can be big by Mongolian standards. While the top prize at Naadam is only one million togrog, or about 435, prizes at smaller, more select competitions can be even larger – a 4x4 for instance.

Enkhbayar said his horses had won more than 10 medals, several of which are pinned to a swatch of red cloth he keeps in the ger. None of those was won by his son, however.

"If I place in the top five, I'll be so happy," Munkherdene said. "Maybe I'll cry."