A foggy morning shrouds the valley near the small village of Hatgal, south of Lake Khovsgol in north-central Mongolia. Through the larch trees, the silhouettes of reindeer and herders are barely distinguishable. Here, Belgian photographer Régis Defurnaux had a unique encounter with members of a semi-nomadic tribe of reindeer herders known locally asDukha, or Tsaatan.
Darima Delger, 64, and her husband, Uwugdorj Delger, 66, were packing up and dismantling a rusty stove. They threw their coats over the shoulders of their grandchild, who was perched on the back of a reindeer. The herd stood still as a still picture, waiting to set off. The clanking of tents, punctuated by a chorus of human voices, was a sure sign of a move to new pastures as the seasons changed. When winter came, the men often stayed with the reindeer in remote valleys near the Russian border to protect them from hungry wolves, while the women stayed in the village to supervise their children’s education.
A foggy morning in the middle of the Delger family's farm.
Darima and Uwugdorj’s family are members of a small group of Dukha people, only a few hundred of whom remain here in northern Mongolia. Their livelihood revolves around their domesticated reindeer, which provide many products for their daily needs, such as milk (for tea, yogurt, and cheese), leather (for clothing and clothing), and transportation, as well as velvety antlers that are sold for medicinal and dietary uses. The constant movement and cold climate make it difficult for them to grow crops or find other sources of food. The Dukha do not eat reindeer unless the animals are no longer able to walk. It may take one or two years for a reindeer to be killed for meat.
Sumya Batbayar (19 years old), a Dukha boy, is leading a herd of reindeer through the snow to a winter field.
The decision to move the herd wasn’t easy. In previous years, Uwugdorj explained, they moved the herd about once a month. “Actually, it’s more like we follow them,” he laughed. “The reindeer are smart.”
But things are no longer so easy, as rain and snow cycles become more erratic. Weather in the Taiga, the subarctic forests where animals thrive, has become less predictable. Lichens, a staple of the reindeer diet, are particularly vulnerable to climate change. And reindeer populations in Mongolia are also in serious decline due to disease and predation by wolves.
“If we miscalculate, we could put the whole herd in danger,” Uwugdorj said, checking the straps of his saddle. Once he was done, he hopped on the reindeer and began the long, snow-covered trek.
Darima Delger on the back of a reindeer.
On horseback, photographer Régis Defurnaux had a hard time keeping up with the herd. Compared to reindeer, horses moved slowly and heavily like elephants. Despite an injured knee, Uwugdorj still weaved between the pine trees and quickly disappeared from his sight. Together with Darima and the couple’s daughter, Régis helped search for reindeer weakened by the winter cold. He noticed the worried looks on the family’s faces. “If we lose our reindeer one day, we will lose everything,” Darima whispered.
The Dukha sleep in white tents called ortz.
After arriving in the pouring rain on the new pasture, they quickly set up camp. There were about 20 families in total who were also in the process of moving their herds. Darima went to milk the reindeer. After finishing their work, everyone gathered around a crackling fire.
Magser Batbayar (a Dukha) is searching for a phone signal to send a message to his wife in the winter fields.
Darima Delger is preparing tea for her family.
The Dukha people, Uwugdorj says, originate from the Tuva region in northern Russia. Tuva was an independent state before being annexed by the Soviet Union in 1944. When Mongolia’s northern borders were redrawn, life for the Dukha people changed dramatically – families were separated, nomadic movements to the grasslands were restricted, and many became refugees elsewhere. Uwugdorj recalls that, thanks to selling reindeer skins to wealthy customers, his family saved enough money to build a house in the village of Tsagaannuur, west of Lake Khovsgol, so that their children could go to school properly.
Every summer, tourists from China, Israel, the United States and New Zealand visit the Taiga forest and discover the nomadic life of the people on the backs of reindeer. But not all Dukha families earn money from these tourist activities. Instead, they make a living by selling pine nuts and antlers, along with a small allowance. Although, according to Dawasurun Mangaljav (28), a Dukha girl, "that amount of money is not enough for us to feed our families".
“People think everything we get is free,” Dawasurun said. “In fact, money is a constant problem.” During the summer, her children live with their parents in the forest. Only when their parents can afford the school fees can they return to school each September.
A reindeer rests in the sunset.
In 2012, after banning hunting wild animals to preserve nature, the Mongolian government paid monthly allowances to the Dukha people as compensation. Many families used that money to move to settle in some villages with schools and hospitals to make it easier for their children to go to school, ending their nomadic life with reindeer herds and huts in the forest.
"We are not wax statues in a museum. We are like reindeer: always on the move," Uwugdorj told photographer Régis.
Sumya Batbayar and her brother Dawaadorj lead their reindeer to a field during winter.
And despite many difficulties and challenges, the Dukha people - who shoulder the responsibility of being the last migratory reindeer herding tribe in Mongolia - still persevere in preserving their traditional cultural identity of a semi-nomadic lifestyle, which they call a fight for survival.
