Nomadic herders tending to their flock. Photo: Thatcher Cook for Mercy Corps

All Mongolian winters are bitterly cold, but for the most extreme, the Mongols have a special word: a "dzud," which loosely translates as "crisis."

The dzud that hit Mongolia this winter was the worst in recent memory. Snow fell and fell until it blocked doorways. Many were forced to exit their homes through holes in their roofs.

The toll of this bitterly cold weather, however, was far more than just roof damage. More than 8 million cows, sheep, goats, camels and other livestock died — a staggering loss in a country where three quarters of the population earn their living from herding.

One reason this year's dzud was so devastating was that the animals were already weak, explains Oidov Vaanchig, who works for Mercy Corps in Mongolia. Scarce food during the summer made it difficult for herders to feed their goats and sheep. So, when winter struck, their animals didn't have enough body fat to survive.

Grazing livestock never used to be this difficult. But today there are too many animals, says Oidov, and the land is overburdened. As goats roam, their sharp hooves tear the tender top crust of the soil, exposing the fertile layers below. On the windy steppe, the soil blows away and the grassland slowly turns to dessert. Stopping this kind of damage to the environment is the best way to prevent future dzuds, said Oidov.

If herders can increase their earnings from the animals they have, they won't need to raise more to make ends meet. So Mercy Corps puts on workshops that teach skills like pasture management, assessing agricultural risks and understanding household economics. The topics also include ways to prevent desertification, such as fencing in fields so that roaming animals can't overgraze, or planting trees and vegetable crops to prevent soil erosion.

Mercy Corps also helps herders pursue other livelihoods by teaching people how to sew, process wool, and make blocks for construction. The idea is not to sideline herding, which Mercy Corps recognizes as an important part of Mongolia's culture. Rather, the economic diversification reduces the impact on the land, and provides herders with a measure of protection against future dzuds and other challenges Mother Nature may throw their way.

"Only by investing in rural communities," says Oidov, "will we be able turn future disasters into a minimal and surmountable problem."

What will the growth of the Mongolian mining industry mean for the country's nomadic herders? Photo: Thatcher Cook for Mercy Corps

Mongolia could soon be home to the largest copper mine in the world.

After years of negotiations, Western mining companies Rio Tinto and Ivanhoe are close to reaching an agreement with the Mongolian parliament to develop significantly the Oyu Tolgoi mine. Mineweb reports that the untapped deposit contains 78 billion pounds of copper and 45 million ounces of gold. If all goes to plan, the massive investment would double the size of Mongolia's economy and create thousands of jobs, according to NPR.

The economic crisis has hit Mongolia harder than most countries in East Asia. One in four people are out of work, NPR reports. The country’s nomadic herders – 40 percent of the population – are struggling after the price of cashmere dramatically declined earlier this year (see Manasi Sharma’s Downturn in the Gobi). Now, some are hailing Oyu Tolgoi as an immediate economic fix.

But there are several obvious challenges. First, Mongolia is highly corrupt. It is ranked 102 out of 180 countries in the latest Transparency International index, an annual rating of perceived levels of corruption (defined as the abuse of public office for private gain). Additionally, the editorial in Mineweb suggests that Russia and China may have inordinate influence over Mongolia’s mining industry. Given these two factors, how much will the average Mongolian gain?

Lastly, there are the social implications of this investment to consider. For many nomadic herders, shifting to industrial mining jobs is far from ideal, but there isn’t much else to turn to. People are desperate now that raw cashmere and other materials do not provide a reliable way to feed and clothe families. "They are losing their land, their animals, and even their culture," reported NPR’s Louisa Lim, "for a few specks of gold."

A Mongolian herder at work. The drop in demand for cashmere made from the soft fibers of Mongolian goats is putting many herders out of work. Photo: Smee (flickr)

The global economic downturn seems to be hitting every corner of the world — including the Gobi desert in Mongolia. A steep drop in demand for cashmere and wool made from the soft fibers of Mongolian goats are putting the country's nomadic herders out of work, according to a Wall Street Journal article.

The implications of the drop in demand for cashmere are very real in Mongolia. The Wall Street Journal reports that about a quarter of the population earns a living off of raising animals. Borrowing more than they could afford, many herders were living off credit from banks, who themselves put too much faith in the price for cashmere. Over-leveraged herders are now being forced to sell their tents or livestock to pay off their debts.

Purevdelger Budkhuu, a 38-year-old widow, sold all of her 128 goats to pay back her $1,270 loan to the bank. Budkhuu moved to the city with her two children in hopes of finding other work but has yet to find a job.

”I don’t know what to do. I can’t go back to the countryside because I have no animals...and I can’t stay here because I can’t find a job.”