Interviewee ID: 990003
Parent's name: Ravdan
Year of Birth: 1945
Notes on education:
Born in: Tsetserleg sum, Arhangai aimag
Lives in: [None Given] sum (or part of UB), Ulaanbaatar aimag
Mother's profession: herder
Father's profession: herder
Themes for this interview, suggested by the interview team, are:
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education / cultural production; family; privatization; cultural campaigns; democracy;
Alternative keywords suggested by readers for this interview are: (Please click on a keyword to see more interviews, if any, on that topic)
cultural campaigns; repression; collectivization; urbanization; city life; Chinese; industrialization; student life (in the Soviet Union); belief; authority; privatization; democracy; Choibalsan's funeral;
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Summary of Interview 080302A with Horloo
I was born in Tsetserleg city, Arhangai in 1945. I was raised in Ulaanbaatar but due to the unsuitable air, I went to Arhangai and went to the first grade to study. I completed the tenth grade and went to Odessa to study for five years. After graduating, I was appointed to work at the flour plant and I worked there for six years. Then by the decision of the Ministry a flour plant cooperative was formed and I went to Ulaanbaatar to work there. Then, I worked at the Ministry of Light Industry and Food Production and moved to Dornod aimag to work at the Soviet construction trust. I was an administrative boss of the Mongolian workers there.
During the cultural campaign lectures on living clean were often read to the ‘ails’. People from the League and cultural organizations visited the ‘ails’ for an inspection and gave advice. They checked how many changes of bed sheets and underwear they had, how much dust and dirt there was in the household. My mom had been a 'street leader' therefore she gathered the old people and propagandised them making them clean the streets. Thanks to the cultural campaign the people learned to be hygienic. I delivered my first child at the time of the cultural campaign. I stayed for the second day in the hospital after the delivery when the cultural campaign commission visited the hospital. At that time I had pimples on my face due to hot weather and I got all swollen. I told them, “I have heartburn. I have slept with my head towards the heater and I’ve got pimples on my face.” They said, “A woman with such boils cannot stay in the maternity ward”. I was moved to another place. Then my baby had been brought to me hourly to be fed.
When I was small, many Chinese people used to live in Ulaanbaatar. All around Urt Tsagaan [literally: 'Long White' – a building east of Gandan monastery] there used to be Chinese streets. The Chinese often rode horse carts with carriages. The horses had horseshoes and when they walked on concrete it sounded strange ‘tag-tag’. The Chinese used to bake bread and cakes and they sold their vegetables, took pictures and repaired shoes. There used to be stores where the Chinese sold materials. My mom lived for a length of time with a Chinese photographer. I think they lived together for 5-6 years. At that time the people were poor therefore the Mongolians married the Chinese. For example, when my mom wandered in the countryside, her neighbors brought her to the centre from the countryside saying, “We will introduce you with someone”, and made her marry one Chinese, that’s what people said. She married him when she was pregnant, and then she delivered one child. When he lived with my mom in Arhangai, suddenly he was called from his homeland and he was gone. After two years he came back but at that time she was married to a Mongolian. That young Chinese had a Mongolian wife but then they divorced and he married a Chinese woman. Nevertheless we visited each other. The Chinese lived in great numbers. There used to be a storage area, canteen, a chicken coop and a garbage bucket inside their fence. Then, all of a sudden the Chinese were sent away from Mongolia.
The people cried when Marshall Choibalsan died. The schoolchildren were lined up for a farewell. He was placed in the state palace. All over the city black ribbons were hung on red material, and everybody wore a black ribbon on his chest and they deeply mourned.