Tikhiy Don
(Quiet Flows the Don, 1957),
Sud’ba cheloveka
(The Destiny of a man,
1956),
Ballada o soldate
(Ballad of a soldier, 1957),
Karnavalnaya Noch’
(Carnival Night, 1956),
Podnyataya tselina
(Tilled Virgin Soil, 1956-
1961). This interviewee explained that “all the books we read were printed
in Soviet Central Asia, mostly in Uzbekistan. There were novels by famous
Soviet writers translated into Uyghur. At the time I remember no books
having been printed in Xinjiang. When you read the novels describing the
Soviet people and the Soviet life, and watch Russian movies about how
great the country is, of course you start to dream about living there.”
One of the interviewers, who moved to Soviet Central Asia in 1955,
recalled a letter her mother wrote to the relatives in Ghulja who wanted to
move in the1960s: “Bu yerge chiqip, momimizni korduq. Momimizning
momisinimu korduq” (After we came here, we saw our [deceased]
grandmother, and the grandmother of our grandmother) meaning that they
“went through hell there.” The saying
momimizni korduq
was mentioned
by many immigrants in Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan.
There was another interesting testimony about a letter, which people
from the Soviet Union wrote to their relatives in Xinjiang. “Once we
received a letter from our relatives in Kazakhstan. They wrote: Life is okay
here, but there are a lot of breadcrumbs on the table. My father started to
think what it might mean. Then he interpreted this as “there are a lot of
kids in this country, adults died during the World War II.” If we think about
the meaning of these words, it also might have another meaning such as:
life is hard here too (there is not enough bread on the table, only crumbs).
People tried not to write openly what they have had experienced in the
Soviet Union.
Immigrants who crossed the Sino-Soviet border at Khorghos were first
brought to the Kazakhstan border’s city Yarkent (present Zharkent), from
which they would move to other places of Central Asia. They all tried
to have tight connections with other immigrants. They would tell each
other which place is better to live. People who visited Uzbekistan were
amazed by similarities between their homeland and Tashkent. I would like
to provide another quote from an old lady who moved to Tashkent with her
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husband in 1963: “From Kyzyl-Orda we moved to Tashkent by train. When
we arrived, I noticed that people in Tashkent dressed just like Uyghurs,
men with white shirts and belbagh [cloth belt], women dresses with simple
waistcoat (pinjek), their hair intricately plaited into many braids (ushshaq
oriwalghan)…I said my husband: Hey, Abdurehim khan, you told me you
would bring me to Tashkent, but it seems like you brought me to Kashgar.
He said, no it is Tashkent. I said, no, it looks just like Kashgar. I felt like I
was in Kashgar. Almost the same bazaars, same stuff…Even their houses
were like in Kashgar. We visited one family there. The hosts and their
house reminded me of Yarkend (near Kashgar). The only slight difference
was the language. The ovens, furniture, and the cushions for sitting or
resting (korpa) even were identical.”
In conclusion, I should say that for more than 20 years until
perestroika
(1985) the Uyghur immigrants from Xinjiang had no connections with their
relatives who lived beyond the border. Most of the interviewees visited
their homeland immediately after the borders opened, some of them even
several times having a chance to invite their relatives in Xinjiang to visit
the Soviet Union. Even though immigrants of the 1950-1960s adjusted
to Soviet life and their children grew up in the Soviet Union, some of
them still missed their homeland and hoped that one day they could go
back. These feelings and aspirations became stronger after the collapse of
the Soviet Union when the Central Asian countries became independent.
Immigrants always discuss the events of the 1950-1960s and conclude that
the migration mostly was a result of the Sino-Soviet relations, in which
the Uyghurs turned out to be a puppet in the hands of two great powers.
Uyghur immigrants often think of what would have happened if they or
their parents had stayed in Xinjiang. Would they have survived the Cultural
Revolution of 1966-1976? Is the their life in Central Asian countries have
today worth the price they paid, the price of losing their homeland and
becoming refugees? Answers to these questions change over time: while
two years ago people were nostalgic about their ancestral homeland,
now they appreciate being in independent Central Aasian countries, due
to the current, ever-worsening, political situation in the Xinjiang Uyghur
Autonomous Region, PRC. They have big concerns about the condition of
Uyghurs across the border, especially given that many of them still have
relatives there.
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