A hospital in Andijon, Uzbekistan, a town in the poor and densely populated Ferghana Valley, announced a gift of $50 million from the United States on October 3. Shavkat Kalilov, a valley resident, felt lucky on a recent morning to get a day's work for about $2.
Like many unemployed people in Andijon Province, Kalilov spends time in open markets and bazaars looking for work as a mardikor, or odd-jobber. Kalilov's story reveals some of the valley's non-medical miseries. Having left a wife and three children he could not support, this trained electric welder now works with a woman he met in similar straits. With nothing to do in his native village but grow cotton, Kalilov hopes to find better prospects in Russia or Ukraine. Andijon holds 518 people per square kilometer. As of July 2002, 25,600 people have registered as unemployed. Ibragim Jalilov, head of the Regional Department of Labor Exchange, claims that the region has created over 32,000 jobs in the past year and that 74 percent of the unemployed who attended government-sponsored Vacancy Fairs found a job. "But," he adds, "I should admit that because of low salaries many prefer to stay unemployed and rely on odd jobs." The growth Jalilov cites hardly captures stories like Kalilov's. The majority of unemployed in the Ferghana Valley prefers to go to Russia to make money.
In Russia, "guest workers" flock to Tyumen, Novosibirsk and Tomsk as well as the Moscow Region; Tatarstan and Bashkortostan are especially popular. Local players do not always welcome the guest workers. The Tomsk Rubber Footwear Plant imported hefty labor in 2002 from Uzbekistan, touching off a conflict with the Tomsk Regional Employment and Migration Departments. These agencies would prefer for factories to hire local workers.
But Victor Oyama, the plant's Director General, says the plant's competition with other makers of rubber galoshes forced him to hire the lower-paid migrants. "We had to do it out of despair," says Mr. Oyama. "In order to support such a huge enterprise as our plant, we have to increase production. If we increase prices for our products, we will immediately lose our [distributors in other countries]. I just can't pay six to eight thousand rubles for work which costs three thousand." Average monthly salaries at the plant vary between 3,200 rubles ($100) and 4,500 rubles ($150). The locals refuse to work for such money. Nonetheless, an official from the Regional Migration Department warns Oyama to expect more headaches for his decision. "We have recently conducted a check-up at the Tomsk Rubber Footwear Plant and took a formal note," says Mr. Alexander Kurdyakov, Deputy Chief of the department. "If they do not send all those foreign workers back home in the nearest future, we plan to conduct another check-up but this time involving guys from the Ministry of Internal Affairs and the Federal Security Service."
For guest workers, who live five to a room in the plant's hostel, the current arrangement is worth the risk. After paying 500 rubles a month for rent and another 500 on food (mostly rice and vegetables), they can usually save 2,000 rubles a month. With Uzbekistan's economy foundering and its currency inconvertible, that translates to 100,000 Uzbek soms more than nine times what guest workers like Khasan (who asked that we not use his last name) say they were earning for more skilled jobs at home in the valley. "If I manage to stay and work here for a year," Khasan told EurasiaNet, "I will save enough money to build a spacious and beautiful house for my elder son." Other guest workers say they need to find marriageable women or see the world, and that they hope working in Russia makes both goals more realistic.
Russian employment and migration officials seem to be the only group that objects to the arrangement. Oyama notes that Uzbek workers have shown up on time and sober every day for two months and says their labor has kept the plant out of bankruptcy: management plans to recruit another 300 Uzbek workers. The Uzbek government, meanwhile, does not seem to recognize its mutual interest in regulating where these workers go. Russia needs cheap labor; Uzbekistan contends with a massive army of the unemployed. If Uzbekistan and Russia followed models set in Eastern Europe, such as between Turkey and Germany, they could collect benefits from guest workers as happily as Oyama does.
Experts estimate that there are three million open jobs in Russia. With the Uzbek government being passive, private enterprises from the Ferghana Valley have begun to seek inroads into Russia. The founder of the Edelweiss glove-making company in Andijon, Shukhrat Kenjabaev, worked on Russia's construction sites for about three years. He has now founded a company that essentially serves as a labor exchange and established contacts with employers in the CIS countries. "Our market cannot consume such masses of labor force anyway," he says. "If they are not needed here, they are needed in Russia and other countries. For instance, now we need women to work in Russia's perfume industry. We find them at mardikor bazaars or through special announcement. We will soon send the first group of women to Russia."
For Shukhrat Kalilov, such talk may be interesting but remains remote. If an encounter at the mardikor bazaar sends him to Russia, he will go there. The economic situation in Uzbekistan leaves him and his fellow unemployed no luxury to make big plans.
Editor's note:
Zakirjon Ibragimov is an Uzbek journalist. Ayder Kurtiev translated this article to English.
