This photo story is the first part of a large photography project titled "Maps and Territories." In several photo essays, we will attempt to examine contemporary Uzbekistan without Orientalist filters and exotic stereotypes. We want to tell what the territories, lying off the routes marked in tourist guides, live by and how they look. The language of documentary photography is ideal for contemplating the Uzbek historical heartland, the Fergana borderlands, industrial monotowns, and the Karakalpak frontier.
Our first story is based on the tales and photographs of photographer Ildar Sadykov from the villages of Ghilan and Kul. A native of Tashkent, he explores quiet mountain settlements where time flows several times slower than in the dusty, concrete cities on the plains.
The residents of both villages engage in farming and gardening. At first glance, there is nothing special about this—Uzbekistan is a sedentary agricultural culture. However, the way the Gilians and Kulians cultivate the land differs sharply from the agriculture on the plains, which still bears the imprint of Soviet collectivization and "battles for the harvest".
Until 2019, the village of G'ilon in Kashkadarya remained closed to outsiders. It is located on the border with Tajikistan, with which relations were strained. Due to the strict border regime, only local residents were allowed to enter.
ILDAR SADYKOV: Gylan is a world where time froze somewhere in the 70s-80s of the last century. It is a settlement of long-livers, artisans, and gardeners. Today, it has been rediscovered — thanks to photographers and researchers. After the first photos were published, roads were built here, and infrastructure for tourists appeared. But still, you can feel real life here — it is not a "plastic" Samarkand or a "newly built" Bukhara.
People here live at an altitude of 2,600 to 2,900 meters above sea level. In summer, the temperature does not rise above 25 degrees, unlike the hot and dry Kashkadarya lowland. "Because of the altitude, their seasons are even shifted. When it's already spring on the plain, it's still winter there. For example, cherries bloom only at the end of May", says Sadykov.
Not every car can navigate the mountain serpentine road leading to the settlement — nowadays you can see Captivas and Lacettis on the road, but in the past, only Nivas, Soviet motorcycles, and donkeys could handle the off-road conditions. For the local residents, such an altitude difference is not a problem: even the elderly move easily along the steep slopes, leaning on staffs with tips as sharp as knives. The people here are strong and healthy thanks to the clean air, natural food, and constant physical labor.
In Gilan, they grow cherries of an unusual orange color, walnuts, apricots, and a special variety of potato considered the best in Uzbekistan. The people of Gilan have started earning money from nuts and fruits, especially cherries — buyers from the lowlands come here. Previously, barter was practiced — a sack of flour for a sack of nuts — but this continued only until 2019.
ILDAR SADYKOV: The local people are very closed-off, but once they got used to me, they even allowed me to film women—something that was previously unthinkable. They offered me a plot of land for a house, saying: "The whole village will help build it if you decide to stay." Here, trust is something more than just a greeting.
The owner of the house where I stayed is originally from Gilan. He married a girl from this same village, but she lived in Shahrisabz for a long time. They were not allowed to build a house for seven years—until they proved they were truly devoted to the settlement. They lived with relatives, with friends, had two children—and only then received a blessing to build.
12 kilometers from Gilan lies the village of Kul, whose residents consider themselves descendants of Alexander the Great's warriors. Their light eyes, strict morals, and seclusion immediately catch one's attention. Among the Kul people, marriages with representatives of other ethnic groups and regions are still not practiced, women do not leave the house without male accompaniment, and it is impossible to buy cigarettes or alcohol.
Against the backdrop of its neighbor, Gyland looks like a progressive district center. "If the men from Kula want to drink, they go to Gyland—Kula has a dry law," recalls the photographer.
Modernity is gradually making its way into both villages. Roads with solid surfaces have appeared, mobile communication is available — first Beeline installed a tower somewhere in the distance, then Uzmobile set up its own right in Kule. When Sadykov arrived with the expedition for the second time, people were already filming them on their phones and posting to Instagram.
ILDAR SADYKOV: Despite the traditionalism of the local residents, the reluctance to preserve the old is striking. In Kula, almost all the old houses were demolished, which is now regretted. In Gilan, buildings that are 250–300 years old have been preserved, but the authenticity is gradually fading — I give it another 3–4 years, and then it will become an ordinary village.
Life here is not easy. Some families have managed to settle in, but for many, the toilet and shower are outside, there is no water, and everything is done the old-fashioned way. In Kule, for example, there isn't even toilet paper—they use special clay instead.
Gilan and Kul are Tajik-speaking settlements, their dialect is ancient and very literary, says Sadykov. Almost every house has a satellite dish — they mostly watch Russian television here. Men have long been going to Russia for work, and in addition to the usual Uzbek and Tajik, they can communicate in Russian.
