A piece of cake

Travis Hellstrom, Mongolia, 2008-2011

by Kristen Hare

  The first day she came to work, he noticed.

  Travis Hellstrom had been working at the provincial health department in the village of Baruun-Urt, in the province of Sukhbaatar, in Mongolia, for one month already, when Tunga Jargalsaikhan arrived.

  The young Mongolian woman was there in much the same role as the young Peace Corps volunteer, as a public health officer.

  Only, he quickly realized, she was much better at it than he was.

  Though he noticed her immediately, Tunga paid little attention to him. Travis didn’t speak Mongolian well, and he didn’t question his co-workers about the new girl, for fear of starting rumors. 

  But he did teach an English class every afternoon after work. 

  And she was there. 

  So he asked them all -- how old are you? Are you married? What do you want to do with your life?

  And in short answers, with a room full of people, he started getting to know Tunga.

  She was kind, he saw, to everyone. She spoke the same to co-workers and patients as she did with the bosses. She was dedicated to her work, and equally to her family, leaving promptly most evenings to help at home. She seemed confident, somehow, in a way that was hard to define, like someone who was just herself. 

  And being around her, Travis felt at ease. It was something he’d rarely felt since leaving North Carolina for Mongolia. She didn’t make a big deal out of him. She did her work. And, subtly, he watched.

  Travis struggled with Mongolian, often listening more than talking. He saw Tunga at work every day, but they never spoke outside of class.

  Then, one day in mid-December, the health department had a party to celebrate the new year. In the hallway, Travis saw Tunga carrying an ornate white cake, covered with green and pink icing and the words "Shine Jiliin Mend Hurgi!" or "Happy New Year" in Mongolian. 

  Wow, he said to her in Mongolian, that cake is really beautiful. 

  It probably sounded more like, “Nice cake.”

  She smiled.
  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Her mother made it, she told him.

  “Wow, I’d like to meet her,” he replied.

  “OK,” she said without hesitating. “When do you want to come over?”

  Travis smiled but was already fretting internally. Was this OK? How did something like this work? Was it appropriate to meet her family? What did it mean?

  Tunga smiled at him though. This wasn’t a big deal, he realized. Just go.

  A few days later, he walked her home after work. Travis understood right away why Tunga was the way she was. Her mother and father greeted him warmly, but they didn’t stop everything and smother him with attention like other people often did. They welcomed him and went back to their afternoon.

  They were happy, comfortable, and being with them made him feel the same. He visited, again and again, over the next three years, and he learned to carry that sense of ease, of just being who you are, with him. 

Tunga, Travis and her parents the day before the wedding
Photo by Kate Borkowski

  While in Mongolia, Travis lost 60 pounds. He took up meditation. He found a different direction for his life than the one he’d anticipated. And he fell in love. 
  During that time, Tunga did start to notice Travis, too.

  Eventually, there was another cake. 

  With both of their families, their friends from the village and from the Peace Corps, that cake sat through the wedding of Travis and Tunga. 

  Her mother made it, of course. 

  It stood two layers high, covered with white, green and orange flowers.

  And it was, really, a nice cake.