"Mongolian Idol" - Visit to a Prison

This week I went to the local prison. It’s about 6 or 8 kilometers west of town. The dirt roads are smoother now glazed with ice, but still a little like riding a frozen sea.

We passed over our town’s frozen river on a long bridge. You could see footprints in the snow on the river where people chop through the ice to get fresh water. Sled tracks stretch up the bank and lead to a whole suburb of houses without phone, heat, or water.

Our little taxi negotiated the ice-glazed dirt road and delivered us to the guard house of the prison. The guards shook our hands and showed us to the gate. We walked in unaccompanied by them. Opening before us was a large prison yard with a basketball hoop, a clinic and three buildings. The huge white wall with barbed wire on top did nothing to slow the icy cold air from the surrounding foothills. We stepped into the large building. I noticed it was a little warmer, but not much. I had my coat on and never took it off. The guys greeted us in socks and sweats, with shaven heads. When we shook hands, mine were warmed by theirs. I guessed it to be between 40 and 50 (F) degrees in the big room where they gathered.

My young friends from church officiated what I grinningly considered an episode of “Mongolian Idol”. Like the televised American singing competition, each man, one after the other sang a solo of a new worship chorus. I was astounded at their courage, thinking I’d never seen such in any North American gospel meeting. The last one to sing “I have a Savior” was young and shy looking. But he sang, with feeling, in a nice voice the perfect melody. All contestants received a prize of winter socks. Various presentations of the gospel of freedom followed. They engaged.

When we left I was extremely cold, like to the bones. This is the first time I’ve really felt cold in Mongolia. On our way back past the guard house, one of them came out in the cold wind and talked to us in his shirtsleeves (rolled up to his elbows). Leaning against a cold concrete wall in the afternoon shade, he seemed in no hurry to get somewhere warm. I tell you it was within 5 degrees of zero Fahrenheit, one side or the other. I couldn’t wait to get out to the car, and next to some heater drinking hot liquids.

I came home to Renee and the girls in a dark apartment. A power outage had stalled a half-cooked dinner, and made it impossible that hot beverage. I guess I’m not conditioned for cold yet. The life of a language student in a warm classroom allows little acclimatization to cold. In that direction, this was my first small step in a long journey.