Naadam

by Wendy May

Several people advised me to go to Naadam when I visited Mongolia, but they couldn’t quite explain why it was ‘wonderful’, so I didn’t know what to expect.

Naadam – which means ‘games festival’ - is the annual national festival of the ‘manly’ sports, wrestling, archery and horseracing. It is held from 11-13 July and coincides with the anniversary of the Mongolian Revolution, although the concept of Naadam dates back to the 3rd century BC.

 We had tickets to the opening ceremony, held in the Naadam Stadium.

On arrival I was reminded of going to concerts and events at Wembley Stadium. There was a long approach road, with flags, stalls selling souvenirs and food, as well as other entertainment. There were also ranks of portaloos (and queues). Although the ceremony was not due to start until 11.00, we had arrived early to ensure we could get seats near the front. There are no seat numbers as the seats are basic wooden slats, so it was every man for himself. As time went on, more and more people arrived until the seating and standing areas were full.

While we were waiting we watched, and listened to, the band, choir and orchestra practising. The central arena was lined by competitors all dressed in their traditional dress: a deel, a three-quarter length gown that buttons at the shoulder, with a sash of a contrasting colour, as well as spiked Mongolian hats – although, as it was a wet day, they also had umbrellas and raincoats!

The first event was the raising of the flag. We were rather bemused by this as there was already a Mongolian flag fluttering proudly from the flagpole. At the allotted time, without any fanfare, horsemen entered the arena carrying nine ‘flags’ made from horsehair. The ninth flag – carried in the middle - is made from horsehair from each of the other eight ‘flags’, representing unity. The flags were processed round the arena and then mounted on a plinth. The President then arrived, complete with red carpet, to open the games. Everything flowed on from this and for the next hour we were treated to displays of horsemanship, including the telling of a fable which involved a figure descending by slide- wire, dancing, and acrobatics. It was interesting to note that there was a very small, but very efficient, team going round clearing up after all the horses!

This was all accompanied by music and singing – including Mongolian throat singing. There was a parade of Mongolian costumes, representing all the different tribes and areas, as well as a parade of Mongolian ‘heroes’ from a pop singer to astronauts, previous champions and an Olympic medalist, who all got rapturous welcomes from the crowd.

This was all really exhilarating in a strange way. It wasn’t flashy or glitzy but gave a real feeling of the Mongolian character – a sense of history, fun, horsemanship and discipline. Then it was over and the arena was cleared and the wrestling started.

Wrestling, Mongolian-style, is an untimed, knockout competition, with no weight categories. The loser is the one who touches the ground first, so the bouts can be over in seconds. The wrestlers dress in short trunks (red or blue) with a shoulder jacket which leaves the chest uncovered (to prevent women from taking part!), and wearing leather boots. Each wrestler has a ‘second’ who supports him and holds his hat during the bout. There are 512 competitors and nine knockout rounds altogether. The final round is held just before the Naadam closing ceremony and the winner is crowned Arslan (lion).

We watched the first session of the first round. The wrestlers and their seconds formed two lines in the arena, opposite each other and then the wrestlers danced round their seconds and then ran towards their opponent. The wrestlers are all of different shapes and sizes, so some bouts were over as soon as they started. The winning wrestler of each pair did a victory dance and ran out of the fighting area. At the end of this first session, another group of first round wrestlers arrived. It all seemed very chaotic!

Next stop the Archery stadium. In Mongolian archery, there is a number of targets made from cork, wrapped in leather, positioned flat on the ground. The archer has to shoot into the air so the arrow descends (like a javelin) and hits a target. The Mongolian bow is interesting as it was originally made from two rams’ horns, joined in the middle and is unlike our western bow. It was possible to identify the experienced archers, as they had a red ribbon on their hat marked with chevrons indicating how many competitions they had won. It was obvious that there was a lot of good-natured banter between the competitors, as well as respect for good performance.

Moving on from the archery we had to head 35km out of Ulaan Baator to the valley where the horse racing was being held. The race we were going to see was scheduled to last more than two hours, which seemed rather a long time for one race. What I hadn’t realised was that Mongolian races are cross-country. We arrived at the site just after the horses had set off, the equivalent in our races to ‘walking the course’. The main difference here was that the course covers 30 km – which meant that the horses would have to travel 60 km altogether. There were over 100 horses in the race, each with a child (boy or girl) as a jockey. The race is meant to be a test for the horse and the jockey is incidental so they use children as they are smaller and lighter than adults.

While we waited for the horses to arrive back, we enjoyed the party atmosphere – despite the black skies and heavy rain! It was interesting to wander through the groups of Mongolian families – all out to enjoy the racing: many were on horseback and there were several children flying kites.

There was a cultural arena with riding displays, including acrobatics, demonstrations of bow and arrow making, felt making and throat singing, plus a stage with a huge screen showing the wrestling from the main stadium.

As the time for the end of the race approached, we all moved back to the race area. Along the valley, we could see the glint from the windows of the jeeps accompanying the riders. As they drew nearer, the crowd went wild, cheering on the winner. Everyone seemed to know who the horses and riders were and there was a real feeling of good natured-competition – and no betting slips!

So, at the end of the day, I understood why everyone had said Naadam was wonderful. It was an honest, friendly and proud celebration of Mongolia. As we travelled round the Gobi and herdsmen asked ‘Did you go to Naadam? Was it good?’ we could show them our digital pictures and say ‘Yes, it was wonderful’.

First published in VISA 87 (Oct 2009)