Supporter: Brad Myers

Alymbek Nasyrov in front of the Bishkek office where he cheerfully greets staff with giant genuine smile.
He has worked for Mercy Corps and Kompanion as a security inspector since 2005. Photo: Brad Myers/Mercy Corps

The airline representative tossed my duffel bag crammed full of funky felt slippers and Kalpaks — traditional Kyrgyz hats — onto the conveyor belt. Early for my flight, I found a seat near my departure gate with a view of the tarmac. I glanced at my watch — it was just before 8 a.m. I knew Alymbek, the security inspector for Mercy Corps/Kompanion’s office in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan was greeting staff with that same giant smile he gave me every morning I passed him on my way into the office.

Every day across the globe, heartfelt goodbyes are exchanged between foreign and local humanitarian staff. Employment contracts begin and end. Grants are awarded and spent. Programs are implemented and completed. And, in this case, interns come and go. According to the statistic around the world, 95 percent of Mercy Corps team members are nationals of the countries in which they work. Belonging to the other five percent I realize friendships formed with local staff, although inherently transitory, are an invaluable reward of fieldwork.

Friends in the field are often defined by the sum of very simple moments. A genuine smile, like Alymbek’s daily greeting, can make all the difference when working in remote locations under stressful conditions. Even a spontaneous trip to the rural reaches of a country to monitor a program or survey beneficiaries can be a catalyst for making an unexpected friend. I enjoyed the name-dropping by Mercy Corps staff members who referenced their enduring friendships they have with expatriate staff, some dating back to 1994, when Mercy Corps opened its first office in Kyrgyzstan.

The plane climbed above snow-capped peaks as I watched massive mountain ranges slip beneath the cloud cover. Thoughts of friends and family had me anticipating their amusement and interest in the souvenirs and anecdotes I’ve collected from this fascinating region of Central Asia. Surely some will ask what I miss most about my time in the field. Recalling cherished moments and loud laughter traded with local staff members, I will reply without hesitation — my friends.

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Tanzilia Iliasova fills out a grant application with the help of a Kompanion loan officer on the burnt remains of her oven, which is now used to dry tomatoes. Photo: Brad Myers/Mercy Corps

I was feeling the heat by mid-morning in Osh, Kyrgyzstan’s second largest city. I took refuge from the sun under a slice of metal roofing. Less than a minute passed before a firm grip on my forearm gently escorted me away from my prized spot of shade.

Manzura Rasulova guided me back into the sun toward what she wanted me to see. She gestured to structural damage caused by the fire which destroyed her home. Her business and home account for two of an estimated 2,500 buildings destroyed during the June 11th clashes in southern Kyrgyzstan.

By lunchtime, we had visited half a dozen families — including Manzura's — who filled out grant applications with Mercy Corps, which is the first step in obtaining funding to rebuild homes and/or businesses. I was spending the day with Mercy Corps and Kompanion staff as they continue to compile names of potential equity grant recipients. Although undertones of fear and distrust remain in many neighborhoods, those we met expressed an eagerness to rebuild their communities.

Mercy Corps and Kompanion teams visit those who have had their businesses and/or homes destroyed by the clashes on June 11th. This gentleman holds up metal covering for a senior loan officer who was documenting the damage. Photo: Brad Myers/Mercy Corps

Late afternoon sunlight stretched across this once-thriving Silk Road stopover as we collected more applications. Powerful sights and sounds took hold with each damage assessment. The snap of debris underfoot, the leaden handshakes, tears absorbed by subtle dabs from a headscarf, and the lasting image of goodbye — a hand reverently placed over the heart.

At the dinner table sat an all-star collection of Mercy Corps and Kompanion staff. A small table was dominated by a platter piled high with plov, a traditional Central Asian rice dish. Armed with giant spoons, we dedicated ourselves to reaching the bottom but managed to exchange plenty of stories, ideas and concerns about our day between spoonfuls.

By nightfall, silence and a cool breeze greeted the 10:00 p.m. citywide curfew. It was the end of a full day crisscrossing a town in turmoil. Many residents were grateful to learn about Mercy Corps’ equity grants but balanced their optimism with concerns about the coming months. The slow encroachment of winter’s return only adds to the growing sense of urgency to restore livelihoods as soon as possible.

A group of Uzbek women standing with curiosity at the sight that was created when Kompanion and Mercy Corps staff arrived on the scene and began their assessments. Photo: Brad Myers/Mercy Corps

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Nadira Abdusatarova has been a Kompanion client since September 2009. Her seamstress business was completely destroyed during clashes in Osh on June 11th. She is a mother of five and provided the main source of income for her family. Photo: Mercy Corps Kyrgyzstan

In a quiet Osh neighborhood there stands a torched shop with no roof. The hot afternoon sun shines over what little remains of Nadira Abdusatarova’s once-thriving seamstress business.

Before the violent and destructive events of June 11th reduced her business to charred ruins, Nadira employed five apprentices and one staff member. With a solemn look of disbelief, she stood motionless, seemingly lost in a flood of opposing images.

She has memories of beautifully-mended clothes stacked neatly next to spools of thread, apprentices sharing light-hearted conversation and the faint hum of sewing machines in motion. But now, her memories are a painful contrast to the lifeless layer of rubble scattered across the floor.

Having already received a loan from Kompanion to expand her business before it was destroyed, Nadira now struggles to imagine how she will afford to rebuild her primary source of income. She also worries about her devoted apprentices and what they will do without employment.

But a new equity fund created by Mercy Corps has been established to do just that — get Nadira, and many other microentrepreneurs, back to business. The Fund for Rebuilding Communities through Microenterprise (FRCM) will provide small amounts of start-up capital, necessary to rebuild the countless micro businesses destroyed by the clashes in Osh and Jalal-Abad.

Mercy Corps is in a unique position to help small business owners rebuild because its microfinance company Kompanion has a large network of offices and staff already in place. With this new fund, microentrepreneurs like Nadira are one step closer to rebuilding their businesses and regaining their livelihoods.

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In response to the recent violence in Osh and Jalalabad, Mercy Corps has provided local area hospitals with baby food, sanitation products and basic medical supplies. Provisions were also delivered to schools and encampments used as temporary housing by large groups of internally displaced people.

As we transition to longer-term recovery, we're focusing on reviving local economies by putting cash into the hands of affected families and helping small businesses restock their shelves.

Watch the video to see the latest from the field:

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Jialoo and his wife Azhar stand in front of their home garden. As earlier participants of the Apple Project, a Mercy Corps program launched in 2005, they have improved and increased their yields. Photo: Brad Myers/Mercy Corps

On a cool, cloudy day in eastern Kyrgyzstan a man named Jialoo Mamatov stood tall, his outstretched arm pointed proudly towards a lush green garden. His delighted gaze needed no translation. Beyond the long rows of garlic and budding fruit trees spring runoff threaded around rolling foothills, its twisted path extending up to the Jety-Oguz Mountain Range.

Unfortunately, the serene moment between a man and his garden was in direct contrast to the crisis unfolding in Osh and Jalalabad, two cities located in southern Kyrgyzstan. The tour of Jialoo’s garden was part of a scheduled trip to visit Kompanion field offices and Mercy Corps programs near Lake Issyk-Kul however; the timing was clearly at odds with recent events.

Hundreds of miles from Jialoo’s village the fear, confusion, and senseless violence were finally subsiding. But back in Bishkek, and on the other side of the globe, Mercy Corps and Kompanion were ramping up staff and resources in preparation for a substantial humanitarian response. A flood of meetings, maps, laptops, and logistical plans descended on conference rooms across multiple time zones.

Far from the action at headquarters the view from my conference room table was slightly different. Curls of steam rose from my cup of tea as I sat at a large dinning room table and listened to Jialoo's prayer. With a commanding presence and sincere, gentle tone he spoke about peace in his country and around the world.

The recent eruption of chaos, though far from his farm house, weighed heavy on his mind. We spent an hour trading questions and sharing cultural nuances. He enjoyed telling stories about growing up in Kyrgyzstan. In the dirt driveway, surrounded by his family, we said our goodbyes with handshakes and hugs.

Lost in the shadows of this renewed violence and mayhem are the amazing citizens of Kyrgyzstan who embody compassion and generosity. Spending the afternoon with Jialoo, seeing his face creased with a wide smile, I realize his pride in Kyrgyzstan is not an anomaly. It is representative of the enduring sense of patriotism that can be found across this beautiful country.

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