Mongolian acrobats star in the world's best circuses, despite lack of support

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia — It's as cold as a refrigerator at the Mongolian Circus School, housed in a once-proud building that now has cracked walls, moldy ceilings and the stale smell of decades of cigarette smoke.

A group of teenage acrobats practice jumps and flips in the air, kicking up dust as they land, while a gruff instructor reprimands them after every imperfection.

Despite the lack of government support and shortage of training facilities, Mongolia produces some of the world's most sought-after circus performers for such big names as Cirque du Soleil and Ringling Brothers. The 83-year-old Mongolian Circus School building is one of the only places where professionals and students can train.

“We are in demand all over the world, but we can't even train properly in our own country,” said Gerelbaatar Yunden, a former acrobat and circus director who estimates there are about 1,300 Mongolian performers working in North America and Europe.

The country's former state circus once needed many trained performers. But that has not been the case for many years, so there has been an exodus.

The first Mongolian circus was created in 1940. Generations of Mongolians visited the state show every year. But the show declined after Mongolia began phasing out its parastatal economy in the wake of its democratic revolution in 1990. By the next decade, the government could no longer afford to maintain the circus and began looking for buyers.

One of the most famous Mongols of the time was Dagvadorj Dolgorsuren, a sumo champion better known by his Japanese professional name, Asashoryu. In 2007, he bought the circus and promised to restore it to its former glory. He said he would allow artists to train in a modern arena for free and raise salaries to attract more talent.

Dashdendev Nyam, who had worked abroad as an acrobat and juggler, quickly returned to Mongolia after hearing about the sale. But he said Asashoryu often wanted artists to work without pay and strictly limited access to the modern training facility. And the few artists who were offered contracts had no guarantee they would last beyond a year. The circus ended up with limited staff, performing only a handful of performances every two or three months.

“Everyone started giving up after a few years,” said Dashdendev, 38, who found work in the United States with Ringling Brothers.

Tsatsral Erdenebileg, 36, a contortionist in Cirque du Soleil's “Zumanity” in Las Vegas, said that without a clean, safe space for young people to learn, he fears Mongolia's circus tradition will eventually disappear. He added that he would have dedicated his career to a state-funded national circus if one had existed in Mongolia.

Something that saves her has been the abundance of compatriots who perform alongside her in Las Vegas. They call themselves the “Mongol contortionist mafia,” Tsatsral said.

“We have each other, but I still miss home a lot,” he added. “My dream is to teach the young generation of Mongolia so they can get to Cirque du Soleil, but where am I going to teach?” he said.

DAVID PIERSON. THE NEW YORK TIMES