Just over five feet, I rarely (if ever) found myself at the threshold of a door that required me to duck in order to walk through. Behind the dandelion yellow door of the ger we were welcomed into on our first night in the Gobi Desert lied a nomad abode offering so little, yet so much.
Nomad families migrate seasonally, making it essential for their homes to be economical, portable, and durable enough to be able to withstand frequent movement and weathering. A circularly constructed wooden lattice covered in felt or hide forms the round and well-insulated structure of the ger. A single stove central to the space serves as both a heating and cooking apparatus, and a column extending from it and through a window in the roof acts as a chimney for the smoke. Two pillars on either side of the stove support the roof (leaning on or walking or passing something in between them is considered bad luck). Our ger was spacious enough to accommodate five beds. I decided this was the closest thing to a Charmed Tent in the Muggle world.
After we finished choosing our beds and admiring the vibrant interior, we moved over to our host family’s ger, where we were served fresh goat milk heated on the stove. There were no corners or sides to prefer, no walls or rooms with different functions, and no windows to look out of or screens to be distracted by. In the absence of such things characteristic of a house divided, a group of strangers was encouraged to sit in a circle facing each other with vulnerability and openness.
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