Mongol herders reeling after harsh winter

SOUTH HANGAY PROVINCE, Mongolia — They call it the zud, a prolonged period of heavy snows and paralyzing cold that adds to the challenges of living on a treeless expanse nearly the size of Alaska. But this year's zud followed a punishing summer drought that stunted the grass and left Munkhbat Lkhagvasuren's herds emaciated and his family in debt after borrowing money for fodder.

As the snow piled waist high this winter and temperatures plunged to 40 below zero, Lkhagvasuren crammed two dozen of the weakest goats and sheep into his yurt. The unlucky ones, more than 1,000 animals, froze to death in a great heap outside his front door. "I tried everything but could not fight against nature," he said tearfully in a recent interview, the stench of rotting flesh overpowering despite a devilish wind. "I am broken and lost."

Mongolia and its 800,000 herders are reeling from the worst winter that anyone can remember. According to United Nations relief officials, nearly 8 million cows, yaks, camels, horses, goats and sheep died, about 17 percent of the country's livestock. Half a million more animals are expected to succumb in the coming weeks.

"This is not only a catastrophe for the herders but for the entire Mongolian economy," said Akbar Usmani, the resident representative for the United Nations Development Program. "We expect the ripple effects for months and years to come."

The last serious zuds, three consecutive harsh winters between 1999 and 2002, sent thousands of destitute nomads streaming into the capital, Ulan Bator. A decade later, their tattered yurts still crowd bleak neighborhoods on the city's fringe as the former herders struggle to fit into the modern world. The United Nations estimates that the current disaster may prompt as many as 20,000 herders to abandon their nomadic life and flee to the city.

"A lot of the herders have no skills, so they usually end up breaking the law and falling into poverty," said Buyanbadrakh, the governor of a small administrative district, known as a soum, who like some Mongolians uses a single name. He said 70 percent of the livestock in his soum, Zuunbayan-ulaan, was wiped out this year, with at least 2,800 families losing their entire herds.

With so many desperate nomads selling off their remaining animals to survive, the price of meat has dropped by half in recent months. "People are taking it very hard," he said. "Some have gone crazy."

The disaster poses a challenge to a government already struggling to address the needs of the third of the population that lives in poverty. But it also raises thorny questions about climate change, environmental degradation and whether the pastoral way of life that sustains many of the country's 3 million people has a future.

Although mining and tourism are a growing portion of the Mongolian economy, a third of the population still depends entirely on husbandry for its livelihood.

"The key question we have to ask is whether this way of life is sustainable," said Usmani, of the United Nations. "It's a very sensitive issue."

The other wild card is climate change, which many herders blame for the increasingly inhospitable weather. Winters are longer and colder, the winds blow stronger and the summers, they say, are drier.

"I don't know what happened to the mild spring rains that the grass needs to drink," said Degkhuu, 62, a lifelong herder who lost his entire flock. "Now, when the rains come, they are heavy and create flash floods."

A recent World Bank study found that hundreds of rivers and lakes had disappeared in Mongolia and the diversity of plant species had plummeted by a third since 1997.

For the moment, the government is focused on clearing the millions of dead animals that litter the grasslands and are beginning to decompose now that spring has finally arrived. A work-for-cash program, financed with a $1.5 million grant from the United Nations, pays herders to gather the carcasses and bury them in pits. It is grim work, but those lucky enough to get a spot on the crews are happy for the income.

At best, the money will merely delay a looming crisis among families who have run out of food and are saddled with bank loans they took on to buy emergency feed. Lkhagvasuren, 34, the herder who lost 1,000 animals, said he owed more than $1,800, a huge sum given that the average Mongolian earns $3,200 a year.

"I can't bear to watch," he said as a crew dragged off the carcasses and heaved them into rickety trucks.