Nobody Has Come

"Nobody comes here, nobody cares about us!"

These were the words of the Uzbeks in this particular mahalla we visited. On this day, a group of six of us went out to this area. We divided into pairs and went off in different directions. I, Jeff, went out with a Russian speaker and as we were discussing where we might go, we were dragged off by some Uzbek ladies to their hovli.

We were ushered into the hovli and sat on their supa (traditional raised platform on which people sit, eat and sleep). This household was substantially burned out except for the rooms at the back of the courtyard where this supa was. As I sat there, trying to sit cross-legged without looking awkward, I looked around the hovli and noted the usual, white tent labeled with the big, blue UNHCR letters to my left, the ever-present, burned-out rooms along the street straight ahead and to my right, and about 15 Uzbeks, male and female, young and old in front of me. They were all trying to talk at once. Since my partner was a Russian speaker, when they talked with her, it was in Russian, some of which I understood. When I asked about something in Uzbek, the group switched into Uzbek which she couldn't understand. Perhaps to accommodate both of us, or more likely because that is just how life in Central Asia is, they talked in both languages without realizing it and neither of us could understand well.

But such is the color and fabric of this region.

"Are the OCSE police coming and when?" was the first question they asked. They were asking about the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe's (OSCE) proposed deployment of some 50 international police advisers to southern Kyrgyzstan. This is a huge concern of the Uzbeks because the

all-Kyrgyz police force in Osh are taking Uzbek men, usually young, and beating and torturing them unless or until the family comes up with their demanded ransom. The Uzbeks are desperately hoping that this independent OCSE force will stop these police abductions. Unfortunately, we don't
know the answer to whether the OCSE advisors will come (the city leadership in Osh and many Kyrgyz oppose their coming) and try to move the conversation away from political discussions.

Food on a table

As quickly as the questions and conversation fly, just as quickly the tablecloth in the middle of the supa is loaded up with nan and choy and, as a first time for me in one of the burned-out hovlis, a large platter of rice pilov or osh is set before us (see photo). "Oling, Oling," they insist (take, take), in the typical aggressive and yet ever so genuine hospitality so characteristic of the Uzbeks. Our objections relating to having just eaten before coming fall on deaf ears and so we take token amounts of the food offered. This current situation is so hard for the Uzbeks because they are so welcoming of guests and so badly want to serve us osh but most places have nothing much to offer except nan and choy and watermelon which we are offered everywhere we go. Most of these people have virtually nothing but they can't think of not giving something. When we leave, they always say, "next time you come, we'll have osh together."

After talking an hour or so (well, mostly listening), we move on to the next places. Again, we don't have much choice in the matter as we are ushered in to the next burned-out hovli. Soon we get separated and I am almost literally dragged from house to house along this street. They keep saying: "nobody comes here, nobody cares about us" and they want so badly to show me their burned-out hovli. So instead of doing the usual sitting down and talking to people which we prefer, I am taken down this narrow street and shown one-by-one each of the burned out places on each side of the street.

I walk with a certain numbness and at the same time I'm crying and yet unable to cry anymore. Nothing is new and nothing shocks me anymore. Three weeks ago when I first started this, I was so shocked and had to hold back excessive tears and I was wanting to take photos of everything. Today, they were wanting me to take photos to show the world since nobody seems to care. I didn't want to take any more photos, I didn't want to see anymore burned-out hovlis, I didn't want to hear anymore crying people say: "we have nothing, everything is gone." However, that is what we are here for and so that is what I did. Sometimes it is so hard to try to give them a glimmer of hope when I have my own struggles with a sense of hopelessness for them. As I was thinking such thoughts, a little 5-year old Uzbek girl smiled up at me with the most innocent, beautiful smile that seemed to make all the rubble around her disappear and I told her mom and grandmother and older sister standing there that there is always hope in the midst of this despair in that little girl's smile. I think we connected there in some way.

Capttap ('sarts') is a derogatory term Kyrgyz use for Uzbeks

In addition to hope, we try to give them dignity. They have been treated so inhumanely and continue to receive such bad treatment. As I walk down this narrow street and see the walls spray painted with sart (looks like 'capttap' when written in Cyrillic letters) and "death to Uzbeks" and other more vulgar words or pictures, I can get a little sense of their loss of dignity. I tell them that I used to live in Uzbekistan and love the
Uzbek people and I heard about their situation and so as a foreigner, I wanted to come and show them the respect they deserve and that has been taken from them. I tell them that the world knows of their situation and this means so much to them because of the lies shown on Kyrgyz television about what has happened. So I walk in the ubiquitous grit of ash, broken glass, broken roofing tile and rubble. Everywhere there is grit, always grit, underfoot and I am so tired of it. I take ever more pictures of charred walls and broken everything so that I can show the world. And as you are reading this, I am indeed telling the world about their situation. Please remember these people!

I try to tell them that I care and that is why I came…

P.S.:If you care about these people, and would like to help them, please look at our page called "How YOU can help". You will find several petitions there, one of which is supporting the OSCE police force. Signing these petitions will only take a few moments, but will mean so much to us and these Uzbeks we have met. Thank you! 

Vigilante Mamas

A number of days ago, our small group of trauma counselors entered an area of the city where we had heard there were many affected mahallas, and that day, we randomly chose one where about 170 houses were looted and burned. Only 5 homes were left untouched. All of the homes in the whole mahalla, except one, were Uzbek-owned.

In order to guard the identity of this area, we can’t tell all the stories we’d like, but here is one that is typical of other neighborhoods, too. At the entrance of the mahalla, a brigade of Uzbek women had planted themselves in the shade at the side of the street and were monitoring all who came and went on the street. As the women made room for Sue and Elaine on their tushaks, they also immediately pulled out their stash of nan and watermelon. There we sat and listened, halfway in the dust of the street, surrounded by around ten women, wearing their only dress--the one they wash out at night and wear the next day.

We listened to stories of horror; how helicopters had circled overhead before the outbreak of violence and how the kids had waved at them merrily, thinking there was a special visitor in town to merit the show of helicopters. How the snipers had taken their places on the roof of a public building nearby and opened fire on their homes (we picked up shells). How black-masked young men had come into their neighborhood, how the residents escaped piled several deep in their cars amidst sniper fire, and how these same men first looted, then burned everything but the streets. How they had spent 10 days in Uzbekistan being treated for injuries, seeing numerous dead brought there and others who died in the trampling panic, but blessed by Uzbek hospitality. How young girls were mistreated and raped, including three sisters, the youngest age five. We cry with each new story. Their hurt is our hurt.

As we listened, we suddenly noticed how these women were serving as the ‘walls’ of the mahalla. In effect, a self-styled police force--and one to be reckoned with as we soon learned. In this city of lawlessness, they provide a first line of defense. Every car passing through the partially barricaded road was scrutinized. Usually a woman would say, “He’s one of ours” or “I know them.” But at one point, some Kyrgyz youth tried to enter and everything was interrupted as a battalion of formidable women arose and marched toward the car, and unbelievably the car backed out. We’ve always said, “An Uzbek woman is a force in herself.” How much more so, a group!

Abduction

Yesterday, we had just finished an afternoon of visits to yet another destroyed mahalla. Our souls were weary of the stories. We had an evening meeting scheduled so decided to stop at a tea house to drink choy, debrief a bit, and rest. Just as we were filing through the door, our colleague received a phone call from another foreigner in town. Another abduction was in progress, could he come at once? Usually we are on foot, but someone with a car had joined us, so the two of them sped toward the address in a still-intact area of town, hoping simply their presence would help.

They were too late. A crowd of twenty plus women huddled on the street, weeping and in shock. Just a few minutes previous, some people had come, broken into one of the walled hovlis and abducted a man in his 50s. The ransom: $70,000.

Maybe a few of you have this kind of money available, but Uzbeks don't. Until they find money, the people abducting will torture their victim to get the relatives to try to scrape the money together from somewhere. Who is doing the abducting? We aren't certain who, but are certain that it is done with the approval of the police and hear of cases that it is the police. It was hard to sleep last night. Just yesterday, Sue and Elaine spent time with a woman who leaves her burnt-out yard in the evening to sleep at her daughter's house, but she said recently, she can't sleep there either because in the nearby police station, they hear men's voices pleading for the torture to stop.

View of downtown Osh

Maybe this man in his 50s was taken there or to another place. We're sure he didn't get a good night's rest. Hopefully this morning he is still alive.

This story is tragic enough but it is repeated many times each day in this city. The city mayor is not only supportive of this treatment of Uzbeks, but is probably encouraging it...

The film-set -- UNBELIEVABLE

The following account was written by our co-worker, but we were all together and heard the same account, and since he’s written it so well, we copy it with his permission.


The film-set: Nargiza, 49 year old woman

“The marauders came on the first day (the 11th of June) to our street and broke all the street-facing windows of our home. We managed to escape further into the neighbourhood and from there to our relatives in the village. We were then for a week and when we came back we found that the whole front building of our courtyard was destroyed. At that time we didn’t realize how lucky we were that our back-house was still intact and that they hadn’t stolen or destroyed our car.

I went inside the back house and was so shocked. Most things were stolen. We were working in South Korea for three years and all the good-quality clothes and electronics were gone. What they didn’t take they vandalized. They broke jars of fresh jam and pickled salad and smeared them all over our beds and tushaks, and they – I’m ashamed to even say this – they did their business all over our guest-room carpet. We’ve tried to clean up the back house, and now we just sit here, terrified to go out, staring at the remains of our beautiful vine and the rose bushes and our destroyed front house. Our sons are in Russia, so they’ve been spared all this and the SNB (security forces) kidnappings of Uzbek men. My husband doesn’t work anymore. Although they didn’t steal his taxi, he’s still too afraid to go out as the Kyrgyz will beat him.

So, we just sit here and sometimes watch TV on our old Soviet TV which even these marauders didn’t want. Watching the local news just makes us more depressed though. They show the same two or three burnt Kyrgyz houses all the time and we keep waiting for them to show just one of the thousand Uzbek homes destroyed or interview just one Uzbek, but they don’t. It’s as if we don’t exist anymore.

The exterior of  Nargiza’s home

Then one day, my husband called me to come and watch the TV. They were showing our house on TV! The front windows are blocked with bricks now, so we must have missed them when they came. Imagine our surprise when we saw a weeping Kyrgyz woman – some actor – telling the camera that this was her house and that 40 Uzbeks came and burnt it down. We were so shocked and outraged, but who could we tell? We’re Uzbeks and we’re no-one, we’re nothing. We just keep our mouths shut. I go out on the street and Kyrgyz women shout out, “Why are you still alive, Sart? Haven’t you left yet? You will soon. We’ll get rid of all the Sarts.”

My grandchildren’s clothes were all looted, so I went to Kara Su bazaar, which is still open. I wanted to buy a shirt and the Kyrgyz girl told me a price three times more expensive than normal. I pointed this out to her.

“What’s your problem, Sart? Take it or leave it. We know you’re all rich.”

I couldn’t believe this young girl speaking so disrespectfully. I told her that I wasn’t rich and that my house had been looted and burnt.

“So why are you still here in our country, Sart? You shouldn’t be shopping, you should be packing!”

But this is my country too. They say that we came here after them, but we didn’t. In the 1970s there were almost no Kyrgyz in Osh, it was all Uzbeks, Tartars, Germans and Russians. I was born here and I’m not leaving. But what future do we have? They say we’re nothing.”

Some smoke -- and some background

One of the 1000+ destroyed Uzbek homes

In the pre-dawn morning darkness, several competing calls to prayer reverberate amidst dogs barking; disturbed in their early morning slumber, as well. And then, a minute later we notice --- the faint smell of smoke. Smoke is not an unusual smell in Central Asia, because household paper waste and leaves and yard waste are still burned in people’s courtyards, but at 5 am, it is an unusual smell. Last night we had word that once again, there was burning at the Osh Bazaar and that smoke had been noted in another region as well. We wonder if the fire has spread. Behind our hovli walls, we can see nothing. We know that where Uzbek citizens are affected, the all-Kyrgyz operated city services, including fire fighters, will not respond. Fortunately, (if that is the correct adverb) the mainly mud-brick construction of homes is a pretty good fire deterrent. The Kyrgyz marauders of June 11 – 14, had to work hard to bring about the kind of destruction they did; reportedly there were incendiary devices used, along with “molotov cocktails” glass bottles of gasoline that ignite when tossed into yards and so forth. It should be noted that all homes are surrounded by high (approximately 2 ½ meter/8 ft.) walls. While this meant it was more difficult for the Kyrgyz to attack, it was also more difficult for Uzbeks to escape. One grandmother and her four grandchildren told of their escape over their roof. When asked, ‘How did you get out?’ she replied, ‘We don’t know how we got out – you see, it’s impossible - but yet, we somehow did it. We were desperate.’

Interestingly, roofs are constructed of panels of cement-asbestos ‘shifer,’ a natural fire retardant. So, the attackers would have to break through the roofing material, in some cases, to allow the fire to enter a house. The grandmother we mentioned earlier, didn’t have her entire house burned, but the unburned part has a ruined roof, so in the next rain, her home will be soaked and she has no money at all to repair her roof.

We want to document to you, our friends, as well as those who chance onto our blogsite, the shocking realities of what we’re finding in Osh, the southern capital of the republic of Kyrgyzstan. There is much destruction beyond this city as well; in villages, and other cities, but the heart of the thrust was here, and here it started. The date of June 11, 2010, will never be forgotten. Nor, do we want you to forget it. This is the date when the attempted cleansing of Uzbeks from southern Uzbekistan and the master-minded plan behind it was begun.

Uzbeks have lived in this region for centuries. They have been the settled people of the region; farmers, traders, businessmen. The Kyrgyz are traditionally a nomadic herding people. When they first started settling down in this region, the Uzbeks say they were the ones that taught them how to farm, trade and so on. That makes the betrayal even harder. Those they allowed to settle among them have now become their enemies.

A home labeled “Kyrgyz” which was spared from burning.

To be fair, one must know that the Uzbeks have prospered in Osh. While not up to western standards, many of the destroyed homes we’ve seen are quite large and reportedly were nicely furnished. Many were traders or business men and women. Before a son marries, new rooms are often built to house the son and his bride and future children, and it is the parent’s job to furnish it as well. Summer is the time of weddings, particularly before the start of Ramazan (the Islamic month of fasting). Many have told us with tears, of the years of preparation they’ve made to prepare for a son’s wedding; saving money and carefully buying all the things needed for the bride’s dowry. All of it was destroyed in a flash, either looted or burned. Hopes and dreams for marriage, children and grandchildren --- gone. Marriage, in Uzbek culture, is a nearly-sacred rite of passage.

What led to the attacks on June 11 through June 14? Various theories abound, and we aren’t experts here. The man we stay with thinks it might have been related to the drug trade in the area and the mafia associated with that. An article we read yesterday, suggests it was gang turf warfare. The affected Uzbeks themselves adamantly believe it was a planned attack, stemming from the mayor’s office itself and with the backing of the Kyrgyz police and military forces.

The view from inside a burned hovli. In the distance is a building from where the snipers shot at those trying to escape their burning homes.

We’ve heard reports that it started from a fight in a casino. Possibly. But we’ve talked to Uzbeks who said they had Kyrgyz military helicopters circling overhead before the shooting, looting and burning started. They saw these same helicopters drop ammunition and supplies onto the roof of a hospital across the street from their home, where snipers were stationed and shot those who tried to flee with deadly accuracy; hardly the handiwork of a ‘fight spilled out from a casino.’ Yesterday, we picked up some of those sniper bullets. Tragically, all the Uzbeks had to fight back with was sticks, stones, hoes and possibly a few antiquated hunting weapons.

And even more tragically, the attack hasn’t ceased. As older Uzbeks venture out of their mahallas to buy groceries or medicine, they are taunted by Kyrgyz youth, ‘What are you doing still alive? Don’t worry, when the foreigners leave, we’ll be back.’ Kyrgyz television is saturated with programs blaming the death and destruction on the Uzbeks themselves. They, themselves, destroyed their own homes, belongings and businesses. They themselves killed their husbands, sons, brothers and nephews. Hardly.

We lived in Uzbekistan for six years. Others here have lived among Uzbeks longer. Uzbeks are a peaceable people, maybe too much so; they suffer and put up with squeezing, pressure, persecution and cruelty that none of us would tolerate. Their freedoms are stolen from them regularly, and they somehow carry on with their lives, hospitable to a fault, always generous with anything they have.

The Uzbeks of Osh are a religious people. They practice their Muslim faith seriously, dress conservatively and tend to follow the tenets of Islam; prayer 5 times a day, no alcohol and pork, women’s heads covered, and mosque attendance on Fridays (the attacks started on a Friday, during noon prayer time – the time when the most men are in attendance at the mosque for the Friday prayers and sermon). The Kyrgyz are more modern and less religious. The attackers were said to be given alcohol and drugs, which would naturally reduce their inhibitions to carrying out such violence.

Friday prayers at a mosque

As stated a few paragraphs back, the television is lying about who instigated the violence. One couple we visited, whose home was destroyed, said that one day they were watching TV, and were shocked to note the shell of their own home was being shown, but instead of the truth being told, a Kyrgyz actress stood outside the hovli, wringing her hands and crying, ‘This was my home, but look what the Uzbeks have done.’ Yes, there were a few Kyrgyz homes destroyed --- the Uzbeks tried to counterattack to protect their lives and families, so they aren’t without fault, but these were few and in some cases, they were probably destroyed because the fire spread from a neighboring Uzbek home. In typical construction, roofs are connected to one another.

It can be understood that there will be attempts at cover-up on the part of the Kyrgyz. We know they still have consciences and that there are mothers, aunts, grandmothers, who are well aware of what their sons were up to those four days, who washed or buried their bloodied and blackened clothing and who are now trying to pretend they know nothing. But a national cover-up, a nation that wants to pretend their hands are clean, and that is filling the airwaves with lies is where we are at today. We are shocked, the Uzbeks are scandalized.

The violence hasn’t stopped. Uzbeks are scared to leave their mahallas and in most cases, even their homes. If they must go out, they send the older people, hoping that the elders will receive more respect. Yet, they are taunted, called names and threatened; some are beaten. We heard a woman who withdrew money from a bank, who gave the money to her mother on her way home, but was later accosted, the money demanded of her, and when she couldn’t give it, she was beaten badly.

We are also hearing stories of young Uzbek men, who for the crime of ‘being on the street,’ are arrested by the police, beaten and tortured and then their families are contacted and attempts are made to extort money from them for their release. The families tell us, ‘How can we give them money, they’ve already taken everything from us.’ And they know their young men, hidden away in police basements, continue to be tortured, or may already be dead. ‘Jeff’ visited a home where their nephew was found in a hospital bed beaten, with cigarette burns on his feet, and the back of his head was smashed in. He was in a coma but died several days later. The doctor did not want to admit what had happened to him and said that he had most likely jumped out of a second story window. In recent weeks, many more have gone missing. And young girls and women are being attacked and raped. We were told by a woman working with a medical organization, that girls and women are being harassed on the streets, but when they call the police to report the harassment, they are told they need to come into the police station to make a report, and while they are there, they are raped and beaten by the police.

The bloody attack of June 11- 14 is history. But what we hope to also document in this blog are the on-going, methodical attempts to rid this city and region of all Uzbeks. We’ve heard the word ‘genocide’ more than once. Our co-worker here, who is a writer, said he did research on the terms ‘genocide’ and ‘ethnic cleansing.’ The term ‘genocide’ began to be used after World War II, to describe the German attempts to annihilate the Jewish race. ‘Ethnic cleaning’ is a newer term, invented to describe the situation in Bosnia in more recent years. Not being experts in terminology nor history, nor current events, we will shy away from the use of either, but we want you to know that the Uzbeks themselves feel they are victims of such a plan. After you have read a few of our blog entries, why don't you judge for yourselves what is going on here.

For starters, some information

We hope to tell you many stories of real people in he weeks ahead. But because Central Asia has been visited by few and lived in by even fewer, it seems important to give some history and background so you can better understand the impact of the current crisis. If this bores you, skip ahead to our first regular blog posting.

Remembering the dead; a teacher points out former students.

We will use these aliases instead of our real names: ‘Jeff,’ ‘Sue’ and ‘Elaine’ (we are husband, wife and adult daughter)

For your reference, we will also post the information below in a handy glossary on the left-hand side of this blog so that you can refer to it as you read our entries and 'translate' whatever you do not understand.


Vocabulary:

Uzbek – an ethic group comprised of people mainly from Uzbekistan, but many are also found in surrounding regions, such as here in Osh, carved up by the Soviet knife of ‘divide and conquer’ to prevent regions from becoming too powerful during the Soviet era.

Fergana Valley – Osh, the city we are reporting from, is located at the end of this valley, a fertile region settled by Uzbeks centuries ago. Stalin divided the valley into three uneven areas, thus delegating some of the Uzbeks to Uzbekistan, some to Tajikistan and some to Kyrgyzstan. This blog concerns the Uzbeks living inside the Kyrgyz border.

Mahalla – a locally-governed neighborhood region. Instead of asking, ‘What street do you live on,’ we might ask, ‘What mahalla do you live in?’

Hovli - walled courtyard. Usually the various rooms of the house, along with outhouses, baths, and so forth, are wrapped around the inside walls. Generally, extended family live together; particularly parents, their sons, wives and children.

Tushak – cotton-filled rectangular mats, used for both sitting on and sleeping on. .

Ramazan – Islamic month of fasting, this year starting around August 10th. During this month, the first meal of the day is partaken of before the first light of the sun (about 5 am) and the fast will be broken after the sun goes down, when ‘a white thread and a black thread can not be distinguished from one another,’ probably around 8:30 pm. During the course of the day no food, water, or cigarettes can be used. This will be a significant difficulty this year, for those who wait in burned out hovlis, their trees burned and with nothing to do but wait and wait for the hours to pass.

Sart - a derogatory term used for Uzbeks. During the four days of violence in June 2010, the walls of houses were labeled with ‘sart’ or ‘Kyrgyz.’ The ones labeled ‘Kyrgyz’ were spared.

Choy in a piyola

Choy – green tea, served in ‘tea bowls’ called

Piyola – small handle-less tea cups

Nan – round flats of bread, eaten at every meal, or every time people sit together.

Mehmon – a guest. Uzbeks have a saying, ‘a guest is more honored than a father.’ (and fathers/elders are very honored!)

Mehmondo’stlik – hospitality. Daily, we are humbled by the generous hospitality of people who have lost everything.