The woman behind Turkic collection

“Komilyaxon, paren bormi?” - Buvijon’s most notorious question every year 😭

Translating as “do you have a boyfriend?”

I always remember buvijon as being waaay shorter than me. Always! Even as a 10 year old, I was taller than her. It amazed me how such petite uzbek woman got married when she was 17, and birthed 8 healthy and strong children! 6 of which were boys. And let me tell you, uncles weren’t anywhere close to the type of petite buvijon was 😂 When I was 4 years old, I used to hide and watch buvijon read namaz and pray. Next thing you know, mum started catching me in the closet with a random cloth on my head (improvising hijab) and duplicating buvijon’s prayers. It seemed hilarious at the time, but as I was growing up I realised I longed for a bond. I spoke broken Uzbek and Buvijon spoke broken Russian. But even with her broken Russian, she always managed to ask me “eee, Komilyaxon…paren bormi?”

Few days before buvijon died, they called me with my dad for a usual catch up. I declined, as I was at work. By the time I called back, dad was in hospital. Buvijon died peacefully in her sleep. She was in her 90s. My guilt was weighing me down for months and months. The guilt of procrastinating to improve my Uzbek for years so I can communicate better with buvijon, and for missing that last ever call. It’s been a year since buvijon died, and I got myself a tutor to learn Uzbek properly, along with my Turkish. Buvijon is the reason I started Turkic collection, and dived into my culture further 🇺🇿I know a lot of people following me here are third culture kids like me, or have struggled with identity/cultural crisis of some sort. You guys share your stories, and even send me photos of your grandparents, which warms my heart 🥰 Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Buvijon and Bobo, Beshariq, Fergana Valley, Uzbekistan