The market in Osh existed for a thousand years – now it is closed
Uzbek and mixed ethnic journalists can no longer work in Southern Kyrgyzstan. Report from IMS staffer Henrik Keith following his latest visit to Kyrgyzstan
By Henrik Keith Hansen
I meet him in the lobby of the big Soviet style Hotel, Ak Keme, in Bishkek. He enters the hotel through the sleepy security control wearing just a thin black jacket as if he hasn’t noticed the tough Kyrgyz winter and the fact that it’s minus 16 degrees outside.
Kubat speaks with a soft voice. He seems a bit tired – or rather like a man who is struggling hard. He is a proud man but does not hesitate to show that he is also a vulnerable man.
– We are a mixed ethnic family. We don’t belong anywhere anymore. We are not accepted by anybody. And nobody can protect us, he says.
Fleeing Osh to survive
Kubat worked as a journalist in the southern capital of Osh until the violent events there in June last year. After a few days of clashes between the Kyrgyz majority and the big Uzbek minority somewhere between 400 and 2000 people were dead.
The signature of this article was there, when the killings started. And it was an ugly sight: A lawless city run by gangs of armed men who killed, robbed and raped without any interference of the Kyrgyz police or military. It was mob rule. And a serious set back for Kyrgyzstan.
Well below the surface ethnic tensions had been simmering for years between the Kyrgyz and the Uzbek minority, and when the sparkle was ignited it spread with a chokingly fast speed. There were strong indications that the clashes were organised by forces, who had an interest in instability of the country.
And today, seven months later, Kyrgyzstan is still holding its breath. Will the country fall apart and be torn apart by a devastating ethnic conflict? Or will the only parliamentary democracy of Central Asia survive and gain new strength?
No independent media left
The situation for the independent media in southern Kyrgyzstan is grim. And being of mixed ethnic or Uzbek origin and at the same time a serious and independent journalist is an impossible situation.
The independent media in Osh does not exist any more, the Uzbek media has been closed down and almost all independent, Uzbek journalists have left Osh – or they have left their profession. To ask a critical question can cost you years in prison, or if you are lucky a severe beat up.
In this media environment Kubat saw no other way out than to leave Osh with his family. He now lives a life in poverty in Bishkek.
– In the beginning we had nothing. We were too embarrassed to walk in the streets, because our clothes smelled after some weeks. And we could not receive help anywhere. I had not lost any relatives, I had not been attacked, our house had not been burnt down. We just could not live in Osh anymore. It was dangerous for a mixed family there, and with my ethnic background it was impossible to work there anymore.
Dire prospects
The sad fate of Kubat resembles that of most other independent, mixed or Uzbek journalists. They have left. And today all media NGOs struggle to keep their projects alive – and with little success.
IMS’ independent radio and TV project with a weekly programme on the Fergana Valley, the border region between Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan with mixed nationalities across borders, has since the June events in Osh been struggling to continue operating. The Uzbek editor and coordinator on the ground in Osh has left, and at the moment nobody wants to take over in Osh.
Most people seem to be in a waiting position. Can the reconstruction and reconciliation process begin, or have they just witnessed the first round of something far worse to come?
Kubat leans forward for the first time during our talk:
– The market in Osh, he says.
– It has been there for more than a thousand years. And it has never been closed. During the big world wars it was open every day. He sighs and looks down saying:
– Now it is closed.
