This is Your Brain on Fire

My life has changed so much it’s hard to remember how I used to be. It all started when I moved to a strange, unfamiliar place. I had grown up in sunny, warm California. I never worried about staying warm. It just came naturally. But then I joined the Peace Corps and moved thousands of miles away from home to Mongolia. I didn’t recognize anything and didn’t know anyone. I felt out of place, but wished that I could integrate. Little did I know where that would lead.

The first time I used fuel was soon after I arrived at site. My hashaa family had given me a bin filled with sheep dung. At first I was grossed out because, seriously, it came right out of some animal’s butt, but the Mongolians assured me that it was dry and safe to handle. “Just try it,” they said. I decided I would, even though I felt warm enough without it, just because I was eager to be culturally sensitive and didn’t want to disappoint them by turning it down. My hashaa dad showed me how to light the dung. It was just OK, I thought.

I didn’t use any more for a while. Sometimes my hashaa dad came in and made fires for me. Then he told me I should learn to make fires myself. So I started using dung when I was alone, making fires in my ger. First it was a pain in the ass to get used to, but as I got better at it, and could get more flames from my poo, I even started to like making fires. I looked forward to practicing every night.

Later I ran out of dung. The school came to the rescue, but this time they didn’t bring dung, but wood. I mastered wood too. The Mongolians were all excited to see how good I was at starting fires. When I saw how proud they were, I felt happy. Like I belonged now.

I thought that I just did it because I wanted to, and I could control it. But sometimes I burned wood too much, and had to take off my clothes because the ger got TOO hot. Soon I was making a fire every night. Then I started making one in the morning to get going. Finally I lit them in the middle of the day. One day I woke up shivering. I didn’t WANT to make a fire, I NEEDED to make a fire. In desperation I crawled to my stove, fiddling with candles and matches and paper with shaking hands until the wood caught and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was lighting fires more and more, and I was lighting bigger fires. A regular fire just didn’t have the same effect anymore. I felt cold all the time. And when I didn’t have any fire at all, watch out! The first sign was that I could see my breath. Then my toes got numb, I started to shiver uncontrollably, and finally standing water in my ger froze. But most of all, there was an overwhelming, uncontrollable urge to start another fire.

This led to some desperate situations. One day my hashaa family left for UB when my wood ran out. Oh shit, I thought. Oh shit, I thought again. I had to get some fast, but they’d left the saw and axe inside their locked house. I’d never been a beggar, but that gray afternoon I went from neighbor to neighbor until someone gave me their tools, and miserably I sawed away, with a handle-less two-person saw. But when I finally set the match to that magnificent timber, I felt all the effort had been worth it.

But even wood wasn’t enough. One morning I woke up and the water in my boiler-thingy, that I’d just boiled the night before, was ice. I talked to my hashaa family. They asked if I’d ever tried the hard stuff. You know. Coal.

I didn’t want to do coal. I’d always thought coal was ugly, dirty, and dangerous. I’d seen it used on the streets of UB. I’d heard stories about people even dying from CO poisoning. But at that moment I was so desperate to stay warm I didn’t care, and said yes. After all, when I looked around, all the people in my sum were doing it, and they were all right, right?

Now most nights I sit in my room, hoping that my smoke detector’s batteries don’t die at just the wrong moment. My hands and coat are dirty from coal dust and I bet smoke inhalation is the reason I’m coughing now. Sometimes I wonder what my friends and family would think. Everything I’d believed in and held dear - moderation, non-pollution, renewable resources - all of that went down the drain. I betrayed it all for just a few hours of warmth. Right now I’m warm and it’s easy to say I can deal with a little cold. But deep inside I know that in a few hours, once the shivering starts, I’ll reach for my lighter and coal bin like always.

My advice to you is, don’t make the same mistake I did. It’s much easier never to start. I know. I wish that I could quit. Just say “no” to coal.