Undiscovered Actress

Every country and ethnic group has its ‘characters,’ people who were born with extraordinary abilities and personalities.  For most, they are never ‘discovered’ by the right person or interest group so they never achieve much beyond what one might term a ‘normal life.’

One day in Osh, we approached a burned mahalla for the first time.  As though they were waiting, a group of women ran toward us, competing for our attention.  Elaine and Sue got pulled (literally!) into a hovli of an older Uzbek woman.  She clung to us and listed her grievances;  ‘Look, my house was burned, all my furniture stolen, my plates were broken and scattered.  See, here (pointing at a meager pile) is all that we found.’  All the time, she was weeping copiously, but then I noticed something curious;  while she thought we weren’t looking, she would squeeze her tear-stained eyes open and glance at us to see if we were noticing. In other words, were we going to be moved by her story and offer her assistance?  I (Sue) thought she was trying to manipulate us and reacted by starting to attempt an exit!  Her neighbor seemed to sense my discomfort and briskly took us to her hovli. 

However, later, because of our developing friendship with the second woman, we returned to that street a few times and during the course of our visits, came to realize that our ‘actress’ was just that, someone gifted with the extraordinary talent of an actress!  We realized she was always the life of the party…. making and bringing food, laughter, and joking into the midst of everything.   We grew to love and appreciate her deeply.  She was such a ray of sunshine in a dark situation. 

On the day that she and her neighbors came to the canning project, she was one impressive worker.  She is 72 years old.  She’s obviously suffered much in her life.  On that particular day, she was fasting. Yet, she put woman 50 years younger to shame with her energy, hard work and encouragement.  She smiled constantly, worked tirelessly and talked seamlessly.  As Elaine said to me, ‘Ayam, u juda ham sho’x.’   (Mom, she’s very mischievous and upbeat.)  And she meant it as a compliment.  Even now, many weeks later, I can’t think of her without a silly, happy grin plastered across my face.  Oh, what Hollywood missed by not discovering her….but then, in my opinion, she’s beyond Hollywood!  

Good News!

After many days of wondering, I (Sue) finally phoned our friends in Osh to learn if the canning project was successfully continuing. 

Good news – it is!  These days, they are inviting 30 ladies a day in order to maximize the few weeks remaining of harvest season.  Now that Ramazan (the month of fasting) is over, the women can work a bit more efficiently. 

The women continue to appreciate the chance to hang out in a beautiful place, do something productive and have something to smile about.  We love those gold-toothed smiles!  In addition to the second-hand clothing, funding has been found so that bolts of fabric can be purchased and each woman is given an appropriate length to sew herself a dress.  For a time, reading glasses were also being distributed and as soon as additional resources are located, that project will continue. 

Thanks to those of you who have supported this project with your finances.  The Uzbeks of Osh and the other affected areas thank you.

SHOE SHINE

I, Jeff, just got back from getting my shoes cleaned and shined. The significance of that is that the shoes I’m talking about were the only shoes I took with me and wore in the 6 weeks I was in Kyrgyzstan. I grew to hate those shoes and I took them off as soon as I got home from the airport on the return from Kyrgyzstan (22 August) and I haven’t put them on since. In fact, in my days back at work at the university, I wore other shoes that gave me a blister after the first day but I still continue to wear those rather than putting back on the shoes that served me so well on the streets of Osh and Jalal-Abad.

Why do I now hate those shoes—they used to be my favorite? They more or less represent the time for me in Kyrgyzstan. During my time there I spent hours and hours walking in and out of burned out homes and always seemed to be walking on grit and ash and broken glass and broken roofing. Normally, in Central Asia, shoes are always kept clean and it is very important for men and women to have clean shoes. However, due to the tragic events there, the houses I was visiting were always dirty with this grit and ash and my shoes never were clean despite trying to clean them often.

As I sat today and watched the guy who was cleaning and shining my shoes, it brought back so many memories. He brushed away and polished over a bunch of grit and ash that had come from the burned homes of Kyrgyzstan and the shoes look like new now. I even had new strings put on them. However, as I sat there, I remember wishing that I could just brush off and polish some of the difficult memories I have of Osh and Jalal-Abad. I wish I could put out of my mind some of the horrible things I have seen and heard in my time there. My shoes were soiled and worn down from their contact with the grit there but my soul has been soiled and worn down from the cruelty and depravity I’ve seen there. How can I brush that off and polish it and be good as new?

And that is just me, an observer who came from the outside. How can the Uzbeks that have experienced it first hand--and still experience it every time they hear a strange noise outside—how can they have this brushed away and polished over? How long will these memories linger and dominate their lives? How long will they be scared to go outside their gate? How long will they be scared to stay inside their gate? What about their shoes and clothes? How many of them are still only wearing what they had on when they fled because everything else got burned?

Even though they are now clean, I still haven’t put those shoes on—maybe next week or when school starts--maybe never…

REFLECTIONS

What can the average citizen do, when made aware of gross injustice in their sphere of influence? Do you ever tire of the passivity of your life and long to do something useful with it? We certainly feel that way since our time in Kyrgyzstan.  Last night, a local TV channel carried a documentary about Bono, the lead singer for the famous Irish band, U2. As it turns out, U2 will make it's first-ever appearance in Turkey tonight. Starting as early as the late 70's and definitely by the mid-80's, Bono has been what we'd call a 'world citizen,' someone who can see beyond his own little cul-de-sac.  A cul-de-sac's purpose (as a street type) is to permit a quiet, undisturbed lifestyle for those who live on it. Only those who actually live on it or are visiting those who do, have reason to use it. It's easy to live a 'cul-de-sac life.' Generally, we humans long for a quiet, stable life; one untroubled and uninterrupted by the cares and worries of the 'outside world.' Bono has opted out of this comfortable lifestyle. He has committed himself to the task of seeing the poorest, unhealthiest, most marginalized of the world have their basic needs met.  He is admired by many. In his work of the past decades, he has been hosted by myriads of world leaders and each one is challenged to see the needs of the world's poor and do what they can to help. He has raised
millions in aid.  In a sense, we (and others) have in some way been serving as the "Bono" for Kyrgyzstan's Uzbeks. Naturally, we don't have the fame or fortune to throw about, but we have a window of opportunity into the lives of those affected in the attacks of June 2010. Thanks to the world wide web and the popularity of blogging, we've been able to give voice to the nameless, faceless citizens whose lives have been torn apart in that region. Thanks so much for reading these posting and letting your heart be touched.  We ourselves don't know how to help further, other than to encourage our friends and acquaintances on this site to keep weeping, praying and caring. As we've stated many times, the violence hasn't ended. When the foreigners are gone, then what will happen? Who will be the voice for the voiceless? Please consider signing the petitions if you haven't. And keep checking back……Bono is just one voice that speaks out; there are many, many others. Wouldn't you like to add yours, too?

Below are the lyrics to a song by the Wailin' Jennys which was recently sung at Elaine's wedding:

This is the sound of one voice,
One spirit one voice,
The sound of one who makes a choice,
This is the sound of one voice,
This is the sound of one voice.

This is the sound of voices two,
The sound of me, singing with you,
Helping each other to make it through,
This is the sound of voices two,
This is the sound of voices two.

This is the sound of voices three,
Singing together in harmony,
Surrendering to the mystery,
This is the sound of voices three,
This is the sound of voices three.

This is the sound of all of us,
Singing with love and the will to trust,
Leave the rest behind, it'll turn to dust,
This is the sound of all of us,
This is the sound of all of us.

This is the sound of one voice,
One people, one voice,
A song for everyone of us,
This is the sound of one voice,
This is the sound of one voice.

(if you want to hear the song, go to youtube
http://search.conduit.com/Results.aspx?q=wailin+jennies+one+voice&hl=en&SelfSearch=1&SearchSourceOrigin=13&ctid=CT2365274)

HELP NEEDED

As time passes and Kyrgyzstan is seldom, if ever, mentioned in the news, we quickly lose our attention spans and feel like we've already put enough mental energy into being concerned for the injustice of the circumstances there. The fighting that happened on June 11th is now history and so our tendency is to leave it that way and get on with life. The Uzbeks in Osh feel the same way: they want to get on with life. They are sick and tired of the rubble and dirt and trying to sleep in flimsy tents at night. They want to go back to work and provide for their families. They want to enjoy life: watch a T.V. show, go on a picnic, or take a walk. The difference between us and them is that they can't move on.

They don't have permission to rebuild their homes so they remain in tents. Their businesses have been destroyed an they can't sell their goods at the bazaars anymore so they have no way to provide for their families. Their TVs are stolen and even if they had them, there is no more Uzbek programing. They dare not take a walk just anywhere because of the risk of being arrested or beaten or slurred.

The fact is that for the Uzbeks the persecution and discrimination that started on June 11th is not history, it is still happening. Click HERE to learn more about suffering farmers in South Kyrgyzstan.

And if you'd like to do more, please click HERE to sign petitions that will give voice to your concerns.

The Tale of Zarina, age 15

"My father was killed by one of the masked men that came into the neighborhood. He was shot and killed on the street. The rest of my family had to escape to Uzbekistan when the fighting started and he told us he would stay behind to protect our house. We didn't know then that it would have been better for all of us to just leave Osh because the fighting would continue for four horrible days.

It was my uncle who found my father's body. He had to search through rows and rows of bodies before he could locate my father. My uncle called us and told us the news and said that my father looked
peaceful -- his body hadn't been bloated or bruised and he looked as though he had been sleeping. The whiskers on his chin had grown soft and white even after he had died. I didn't get to see my father buried and I couldn't say goodbye.

Since the fighting in June, many Uzbek girls my age are being married off quickly. Families fear that Kyrgyz men will come and kidnap us and rape us. My mother is worried for me because there is no man in our household to protect us anymore. There is a 26 year old man who is talking to my mother about marrying me. I am not ready to be married, but I do not want to be a burden to my mother either.

I try to believe that there are good Kyrgyz but each time I see a Kyrgyz my heart beats so fast and I am filled with fear and anger. I don't know if like can ever return back to normal again."