Mongolia stands before a shining opportunity

Seventeen years after the fall of communism in Mongolia, Communist Party cultural centers, where workers once sang about the glories of the revolution, have been reborn as discos and Internet cafes. But Mongolia, about the size of Alaska, has struggled to revive its economy. Only one in 10 roads is paved. Most of the country's 2.9 million people live, as ever, in round felt huts known as \o7gers\f7, scattered at less than two people per square mile, vastly outnumbered by the sheep, goats and horses that provide their livelihood.

In the cities, government salaries have failed to keep pace with those in the private sector. And as the gap grows, more Mongolians are eyeing the fortune beneath their feet.

The country was long suspected of holding unexplored gold deposits. But in the last five years, mineral exploration has soared, thanks to changes in tax and mining laws and the attention sparked by the 2001 discovery of one of the world's largest deposits of copper and gold in Mongolia's Gobi desert. That site, known as Oyu Tolgoi, is estimated to be worth $38 billion -- more than 10 times the country's gross domestic product.

Today, more than 40% of the country has been licensed for exploration, and gold is being churned out by mines large and small. At the tail of the food chain are subsistence miners like Zorigoo, 27, who, like many Mongolians, goes by one name. He and Saraa have given up herding animals.

"We do this to survive," Zorigoo said, his crew cut, sweater and jeans flecked with mud from carving holes into the hills of the Oltiin Am valley, 300 miles west of the capital.

These unofficial miners are known as ninjas -- as in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles -- for the plastic tubs they sling over their backs. They work at the edges of the official mines, weaving among the tractors in search of what the companies leave behind. Their shadow workforce is estimated at 100,000 nationwide, more than eight times the number of people employed by the company-owned mines.

At this site, ninja tents dot the valley floor and sprawl into the hills. Among them are restaurant tents and gold-buying tents. At night, the ninjas work by headlamp -- men, women and children who are a cross-section of the nation. One family of six came from across the country last summer when school ended; a former Russian-language teacher wonders what mix of gifts to the mountain gods will land him a large enough nugget to retire.