In an interview with a Turmush correspondent, he shared that he was born in 1991 in the village of Üch-Terek, located in the Toktogul district of the Jalal-Abad region. Currently, he resides in the city of Kara-Kul.
“When I was two months old, my aunt on my mother's side brought me here. She promised to raise me as her sixth child since my parents separated. I always feel lonely... Rumor has it that my mother sold my biological brother to the Dungans,” he said.
Gulzhigit spent his childhood in Kara-Kul. His guardian was a well-known entrepreneur. His aunt had five children (my cousins), but she decided to take me in, so their family became three sons and three daughters.
He suffers from a third-degree disability. According to relatives, when he was born, doctors accidentally dropped him, which led to a fracture in the pelvic area. He did not undergo surgery, and although his leg does not hurt now, he limps a bit,” Gulzhigit shared.
He stated that his parents divorced when they were young.
“Mom, as they say, abused alcohol. When the relationship broke down, my grandmother and aunt came and took me away,” he added.
He met his father only in the 7th grade when he ended up in Toktogul. “We ran into each other by chance, but as they say, a father is not the one who gave birth, but the one who raised you. I talked to him, but my heart chose those who raised me. No matter how much they scolded or punished me, they became closer to me,” recalls Gulzhigit.
He has endured many humiliations and sufferings: “Although I do not show it, deep down, there is always some anxiety and resentment.” He saw his mother at the age of 17. In 2008, she came from Bishkek while he was living with his grandmother. She had problems with her arm and leg due to a stroke. Taxi drivers brought her and left her. At first, he thought it was his aunt. When he was told that it was his mother, he did not believe it. His adoptive mother passed away when Gulzhigit was 10 years old. After that, he voluntarily went to an orphanage, where six children parted ways. He returned from the orphanage at the age of 12, but it was very strict there. For a piece of bread, he had to endure a lot. On hungry days, he had to eat raw carrots and radishes, and sometimes even had to kill a puppy. After his mother's death, he realized the true value of parents. Since childhood, he lacked parental warmth.
From the age of 13, he began doing hard work: washing dishes, sweeping roads, working as a loader,” he added.
Gulzhigit hesitated to marry for a long time, believing that he had no one, and that family is a big responsibility: “How will my wife's parents look at me if my relatives do not help?”. He eventually got married, but the marriage fell apart due to jealousy. He has a son. Then he remarried, but his relationship with his second wife also did not work out for the same reason. He has a daughter. Understanding what it is like to grow up without parental love, he wanted his children not to experience a similar fate. However, life turned out to be different from what he dreamed. Despite his desire to live honestly, he does not always manage to achieve what he wants. He has faced severe hardships and attempted suicide twice—both times the rope broke. But he believes: “If a person suffers greatly, it means something good awaits him ahead.” This has become a test for him.
In moments when he wanted to express himself and seek advice, there was no one around who could listen to him. His relatives have their own lives.
“What worries me the most is the following. When my grandmother brought me to Kara-Kul, my older brother stayed with my father. When he was about to start first grade, my mother returned to the village, took my brother Taala, and took him away. They say she sold him to the Dungans in Sokuluk.
When she came in 2008, I asked her: ‘Did you really sell my brother?’ She admitted that yes, she sold him because of alcohol. I asked: ‘Why?’ She replied: ‘I succumbed to temptation.’
Despite this, we took care of her, trying to help her overcome her addiction. That same year, my cousin passed away. When we went to read the Quran, my mother left for Bishkek with another uncle, ended up back at the Osh market, and started drinking again. She never changed. I grew up and could have taken care of her. Regardless, she is still my mother. I dream of a family and a good life, like many others. I want to find my mother and brother.
I am looking for my older brother. This is the digital age. If my mom or brother sees me, I will accept them. My brother's name is Taala, he was born in 1987 or 1988. My mother's name is Gulzat.
