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Eternal Blue Sky

Hemp has been a key component in the ancient shamanistic rituals of the Mongolia—but it remains illegal...
By Maren Krings
Text & Images Maren Krings
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When the drum finally dries, the shaman puts on the ceremonial coat and mask, shielding his vision of the mundane world. Vodka, nicotine, and the beating drum are preparing him to receive the spirits. One thing is missing from this traditional ritual: cannabis.

Mongolia is home to native wild hemp, and has a history of using it for shamanic rituals dating back to the 13th century, when Genghis Khan started worshipping Tengerism, a form of shamanism unique to the region. When disasters strike today, many Mongolians still consult a shaman to restore balance between the physical and the spiritual world.

Mongolia’s long and complex history has created a deeply rooted cultural crisis, which is enhanced by the increasing global ecological crisis. Both are having serious impacts on the lives of Mongolia’s nomads—not the least of which is the government’s outlawing of cannabis.

Though it is now illegal in Mongolia, and has therefore been replaced by alcohol and cigarettes, it was once key to the ceremony I now witness. But thanks to the work of one forward-thinking Mongolian entrepreneur, the plant could help solve the problems of a country beset by the ill effects of climate change.

Anar Artur, founder of Hemp Mongolia, hopes to use hemp to help his nation transition from a nomadic lifestyle to urban bliss, while tackling the air pollution crisis of Ulaanbaatar, the world’s dirtiest city. Hemp Mongolia received government permission to become the first—and only—hemp-growing site in the country, with plans to use its CBD as a treatment for respiratory diseases and its hemp as a building material for better insulation to reduce coal emissions. The company also hopes to build up a breeding program under governmental supervision.

Artur believes the search for identity as manifested in the rise of New Age Shamanism will reconnect the nation with the good spirits. Reestablishing harmony between humanity and the environment might lead the country back to an “eternal blue sky” (mönkh khökh tengeri), which, after all, gave the country its name.

Northwestern Mongolia suffers doubly from global warming—since weather patterns have changed so much, nomads’ traditional knowledge and ability to predict the weather are failing.
Some herder families say they miss the sense of community and support they had during the days of the Mongolian People’s Republic—despite repression and a lack of personal freedom— since many now live in poverty and lack access to healthcare, education, and electricity.
Half of Mongolia’s population lives in the ever-expanding urban space of the capital, Ulanbaataar. Skyscrapers are built rapidly with the help of foreign investors—but once funding stops the buildings are often abandoned half-finished.
Throughout its history of war with neighboring nations, Mongolia’s native Tengrism has mixed with Buddhism and Christianity to create unique forms of all three religions. Under Communist rule, all religious practice was prohibited, however. Secrecy surrounding Tengrism remains to this day.
Kama’s job is to guard the plants throughout the entire growing cycle. To do so, he lives according to nomadic tradition, in a felted ger (the Mongolian word for yurt).
When the famed horse races come to Khui Doloon Khudag during the national holiday, the racing equines, media coverage, cars, and general traffic drive up dust like a sand storm on the steppe.
Inside the traditional ger, Anar and Kama play on an Xbox.
Mongolia’s dry steppe is tough on agricultural crops, so farmers must truck in water to irrigate industrial hemp fields.
Of the four power plants within the city limits of Ulanbaataar, one has been shut down and two run on low-grade sub-bituminous coal.
Hemp Mongolia may be emerging as a winner in the market economy introduced to the country in the 1990s, but the rural population has lost ground water and vast landscapes to exploitative natural resource mining by foreign corporations.
Clean water, gasoline, and food are rare commodities on the Mongolian steppe. Most of the vast country has no rroad system or stores. Photographer Maren Krings says she always carries a Grayl Geopress with her to filter any water supply—even muddy holes holes frequented by wild horses.
Anar Artur checks the plants often to see if the crossed variety is resilient enough to survive the Steppe climate.
Wild cannabis grows just a few hours drive from Hemp Mongolia’s test site. It usually contains higher levels of THC–it’s how the plant protects itself from UV radiation, extreme weather and predators. Hemp Mongolia hopes to introduce this new, adapted variety of industrial hemp to remove pollutants and replenish soils for the recovery of depleted agricultural land.
During the Naadam Festival, The Culture Department of the National University installs a cultural village to inform not just international tourists but also young Mongolians who have become alienated from traditional costumes and cultural practices.

About the photographer

Maren Krings is a German documentary photographer focusing on the social and environmental impact of the climate crisis. A graduate of Savannah College of Art and Design, her work has been published in Stern, The Outdoor Journal, SUSTON, Happinez, Outdoor, Runner’s World, and other international media. For the last four years, she has documented the worldwide rediscovery of industrial hemp, photographing more than 200 projects, interviewing more than 80 industry experts traveling 26 countries. Currently, she is working on a book about hemp‘s potential to mitigate the ecological crisis.

Anar Artur

Hemp

industrial hemp

Maren Krings

Mongolia CBD