The story told by
Saida Tolobaeva Oruzbekovna's story highlights women's strength in a patriarchal society. Born in a Kyrgyz village, she showed early independence and cheerfulness, becoming a strong, positive family pillar
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The cruel coldness that almost makes your bones shake, the loud belly growling that warms you up at night, and the freeze that feels like death — this was how my strong ancestor, my beloved grandmother,described the winters of the 1940s. She was the most wonderful, incredibly powerful, and wisest person in the world to me. Her name was Alymkan; in Turkic languages (Kyrgyz), "alym" means "scientist" and "kan" means "blood." Growing up, I was not always aware of the terrors she endured in her childhood, as she excelled at staying positive and being the most benevolent grandmother in the universe. My Chon Apa (Kyrgyz for grandmother) would play card games with me, laugh at good jokes, and immediately buy me snacks when she received her small pension.
A Legacy of Silence and Love
It was always complicated for Kyrgyz women to express their feelings, something I believe we inherit from generations. Consequently, it was difficult for me to show how much I still love and respect my grandmother. I am not even sure my heart is big enough to handle the love of this size, so I have decided to show it instead.
Women in many places tend to be overlooked, and their achievements diminished. This concept, established in history, has passed through generations as an unpleasant legacy. I fight this patriarchal notion every day, and telling the story of my strong, wonderful, and benevolent grandmother is a big part of that fight. It is an honor to share her story and perspective with the world.
The Early Years of Alymkan
In April 1927, in Aksy, Jalal-Abad region, a family of a comparatively wealthy man welcomed a newborn girl named Alymkan. She grew up with 16 other children or stillborns, as child survival rates were low at that time. Early marriages and relative poverty were common in the region. According to my grandmother, her mother was glad when some children died—a terrifying thought, but understandable given the immense stress and challenges girls faced when becoming mothers at ages as young as 13 or 15.
Though little is known about her childhood, Alymkan took great care of her younger siblings, a trait she carried with her throughout life. When she was 13, World War II began, profoundly affecting her, even though the men in her family did not participate in the war. We never discussed the horrors of war in depth, which I believe speaks volumes about the trauma she carried. However, we talked a lot about my grandfather, a hero of the Great Patriotic War.
Becoming a Mother
In 1949, she married my grandfather as his second wife. The following year, she tragically lost her firstborn daughter, a loss that marked her deeply. She later lost two more children, adding to the heartbreak. However, in 1952, she gave birth to her second child and eventually had eight wonderful children, including my father, her youngest.
In 1959, Alymkan moved to Osh, the city where her grandchildren, including myself, would eventually call home. She lived there happily with her family until her husband passed away in 1987. My grandmother was a hard-working, independent, and strong woman. According to family stories, she could live alone in the village well into her 80s, taking care of herself and her grandchildren, cooking for us, and buying us gifts.
Chon Apa was not only aloving mother and grandmother but also helped raise her relatives' children. Asthe eldest daughter in her family, she bore the heavy responsibility of caringfor others, a duty she carried with grace throughout her life
Even in her 80s, she choppedwood and worked tirelessly to support her family. My mother recalls how,despite her advanced age, Alymkan refused to accept help so that others couldfocus on their education and careers.
Though Alymkan never received a formal education, she deeply valued educated people. Her sacrifice—giving up her chance at learning for her family's well-being—was one of the many ways she demonstrated her strength. She may not have been able to write, but her words were filled with wisdom, and she remained the only person with whom I spoke Kyrgyz. Everyone else in my family spoke Russian, but because of her, I maintained my connection to the Kyrgyz language, culture, and ancestry.
Alymkan was also known for her crafts. Shecould knit and sew, and her handiwork, including toshoks (traditional Kyrgyzquilts), could be found throughout our home. For nearly 40 years, shemaintained a garden in her village, bringing the fruits of her labor to Osh toshare with her family and neighbors. She was remembered by those around her asan incredibly generous woman, always baking bread and sharing it with others.
It has been five years since my grandmother passed away. Writing this now, with tears in my eyes, I am forever grateful for all the lessons she taught me.
Though I often wonder if she found peace and if she could hear my pleas for forgiveness for not fully appreciating her while she was alive, I am proud to carry her legacy as a strong, independent woman.
My love for my grandmother still flourishes, even after her passing. As a child, I often questioned why my grandfather received so many honors while my grandmother, equally heroic, did not. Writing this tribute is my way of giving her the recognition she deserved, telling her side of the story, her heroic narrative.
I will end this with the words I said at her grave:
.avif)
.avif)
