Depressed Kyrgyz Seek Solace in the Bottle

When Shaiyrbu Akmatova wakes up each morning it is usually with an intolerable headache that only one thing can cure - 100 grammes of vodka from the local shop.

Akmatova, from a town in the mountainous Naryn region of Kyrgyzstan, spends the rest of the day in a drunken haze. She is one of an increasing number of Kyrgyz women who’ve turned to drink to escape the harsh realities of daily life.

“I don’t remember how much I owe the owner of the shop. He swears at me every time. Last time I paid him back with chicken. Now I don’t know what to give,” said Akmatova.

She said her problems began in the mid-Nineties when she went to Russia with her husband to work. Life was hard there, and both of them began drinking.

“Every day was nerve-wracking. I didn’t make any money,” she explained. “And what can you do in the evenings after work? To forget their difficult lives, women and men drank vodka. And I took to alcohol as well.”

Things didn’t improve on their return to Kyrgyzstan. Her husband died as a result of his drinking, and Akmatova got into debt. She sent their children to live with relatives in her native village, and soon followed to escape her creditors.

“My children don’t respect me. Who will respect a mother who is found drunk somewhere every day? I want to stop, but I don’t know how. Who will help me to give up drinking?” said Akmatova.

However, she denies that she is an alcoholic - an attitude all too common in Kyrgyz villages where, despite ample evidence, many are reluctant to confront the growing problem in their midst. Even women who die of cirrhosis of the liver brought on by alcoholism are officially listed as dying of something less controversial.

“Our women sometimes drink, but you can’t call this alcoholism. You’re exaggerating.” said Akmat Kalbaev, a resident of Sarybulak, another mountainous village in the south of Kyrgyzstan.

Gulnara Maratova, also from Sarybulak, began drinking seven or eight years ago, out of hopelessness and in reaction to her husband’s own alcoholism. The entire village now hears the noisy and frequent rows between the two.

“My husband drinks and beats me. We have no money. The children are growing up in poverty, and sometimes I feel like escaping from all of this,” said Gulnara, adding that many living in the mountains think vodka is good for their health and can be drunk in place of medicine.

Political analyst Nur Omarov said female alcoholism has increased since the collapse of the Soviet Union and the rigid social structures that came with the communist system. This, coupled with the fact that women are now being asked to do far more than in the past, has contributed to the problem, he said.

“I truly sympathise with our women, as in recent years enormous problems have lain on their shoulders. Our women have virtually become men. They are forced to feed their families and earn money,” said Omarov.

“Accordingly, along with all the male skills they have begun to acquire male vices.

“Women are driven to alcoholism by the existing inequality in our society. A man can do his work and relax. But women have to look after the children, the home and their husbands. This is too hard for women.”

Tursunbek Akun, the chairman of the presidential human rights commission, believes widespread unemployment and boredom in villages where there is little to do to pass the time has contributed to the rise in alcoholism.

“There are no theatres or clubs in villages to spend leisure time. People have one way of passing the time – drinking,” he said.

The head of the Sezim women’s crisis centre says an already serious situation is being made worse by aggressive advertising campaigns.

“There isn’t another country where alcohol is advertised as strongly as here,” said Bubusara Ryskulova. “Companies that sell alcoholic products are turning our people into drunks.”

IWPR met Anara Suranova at the National Narcological Centre in the capital Bishkek where she had come from a village for treatment.

Though the addiction treatment centre is overcrowded with up to 60 people coming in each week, Suranova says it is relatively rare for Kyrgyz women to seek help, particularly those from the villages.

“Mainly people from the city come here,” she said. “Women are forcibly brought here by their children and relatives. Imagine how many secret drunks are hiding in their homes, trying to deal with their problem alone.”

Centre doctor Nurgul Daniyarova agrees that women rarely arrive voluntarily.

“Just yesterday a woman from Kochkor [a region in Naryn] came to us in a state of alcoholic psychosis. She can’t talk or go to the toilet by herself,” she said.

“We aren’t sure that we will be able to return her to a normal life. But her relatives beg us to take her. They can also be understood. It’s frightening to deal with an alcoholic.”

The government at least doesn’t deny a problem exists.

The acting deputy prime minister for social issues, Ishengul Boljurova, says the 42 million litres of vodka and 39 million litres of beer sold last year to Kyrgyzstan’s population of just five million proves action must be taken.

She suggests a multi-faceted programme aimed at preventing drug addiction and alcoholism in the first place along with rehabilitation centres to help those already hooked.

“Alcoholism is growing in this country. This leads to numerous diseases, a growth in crime, a loss of traditions and moral values, and the collapse of families,” she said.

Back in Naryn, Shaiyrbu Akmatova says village life has become unrecognisable as her neighbours – both male and female - descend into alcoholism.

“All the men drink. Even the headmaster of the only school comes to work drunk ... [and] the teachers do not lag behind either,” she said.

“People drink at weddings, and at funerals they drink even more. Men fight when they get drunk, and the women walk unsteadily and sing songs on the main street of the village. No one considers this disgraceful anymore.”

Aida Kasymalieva is a correspondent for Radio Azattyk, the Kyrgyz service of RFE/RL, in Bishkek.