Life in a Roma community in Kyrgyzstan
Lyuli-Mahalla in Osh: Life in a closed community of Central Asian Roma
18.07.2026
Article published on the azattyqasia.org website
On the outskirts of the city of Osh in southern Kyrgyzstan lies a neighbourhood known locally as Lyuli-Mahalla. It’s home to a community of Central Asian Roma called the Lyuli. For generations, their main source of income has been begging and collecting scrap metal. However, in recent years, local authorities have stepped up their efforts to integrate this ethnic group into society.
Traditions and changes in Lyuli-Mahalla
There are around 1,200 households in Lyuli-Mahalla, with a population of nearly 6,000 people. The mahalla covers a total area of 54 hectares, with densely packed houses and narrow streets. The area was previously part of the Kara-Sui district which was incorporated into the city of Osh following a regional reorganisation in 2024.
Most mahalla residents do not have regular employment. Some women are forced to take to the streets to beg, one of whom is 60 year-old Yulduzhon Topyvoldieva.
“It’s not stealing or prostitution. If you see someone in need on the street, you give them money or some bread. And sometimes even those who have completed the Hajj offer meals to people and engage in charitable work”, says Yulduzhon.
She first took to the streets to beg when she found herself homeless with a child to look after. She asked for money for day-to-day essentials before meeting her current husband, a mahalla resident. She settled in Jany-Maala.
“If I had a pension right now, or if my son came to visit and gave me money, I wouldn’t have to go on the streets. But I must, so I do. I go to Kara-Suu and visit Osh at the bottom of Mount Sulayman”, she says.
In recent years, the local authorities have been urging Lyuli residents to give up begging, although the younger generation are now looking to earn an income in other ways. For example, Yulduzhon’s stepson travelled to Russia to work and, having saved some money, returned home and is now renovating their house.
“I’ve been working as a welder in the construction industry for five or six years now. I bring the money I earn back home and start building”, says Zhakhabidin Zhorayev.
Yulduzhon’s house is cramped. Living conditions are modest. Crockery is displayed by the door and the hallway also serves as the kitchen.
There are those in the village who have built large homes and live comfortably, but most live in old, small houses.
Access to education by the local population is limited. Yulduzhon says she would have liked her daughter to train as a seamstress but couldn’t afford to pay for the training which would have enabled her to learn the profession.
In Lyuli-Mahalla, there used to be a lot of people living without official documentation, i.e. birth certificates or passports, which made it difficult for them to take their children to school, or to the doctor for check-ups and medical treatment.
Local authorities claim this problem has been more or less resolved, with only 5% lacking supporting papers. The rest are studying, while others have gone on to further education.
A thirst for knowledge and challenges along the way
Zarina Urinova trained as a nurse and works at the local health centre. “I love my job. I initially wanted to study medicine but my father insisted I go into education instead. I lost a year because of that. I cried but enrolled in medical school anyway. I enjoy the work – I don’t find it hard. My sister went to teacher training college and now works as a teacher here. She’s currently on maternity leave and will be back in September. My brother trained as a programmer. Everyone in our family pursued an education”, says Zarina.
There are three nurses at the health centre, of these, only Zarina is of Lyuli descent.
Zarina’s husband has no formal education and works for a private company. She believes that all young people should study and learn a trade. “If you’re studying and acquiring knowledge, that’s a good thing. If you want to study and work, no-one can stop you. If you have knowledge, you can get a job anywhere”, she tells us.
Many people in the mahalla are keen to ensure their children have an education. However, its one school only caters for children up to fourth grade. In the last academic year, 560 pupils attended the school, 150 of whom graduated. These children now have to continue their education in the neighbouring village. However, the xenophobia they face in schools outside the mahalla has led to many teenagers dropping out.
“These children tells ours – “you’re not from here, you’re an outsider” and don’t accept them – that’s how fights would break out between them. So I sent my son and daughter to the nearby village of Jiydelik from first grade onwards – there was no fighting there. As the local school only goes up to fourth grade, I decided not to enrol my kids there. After all, if they were here, they would receive one kind of education, and have another one once they’d moved there, says Zarina.
Life in Lyuli
The narrow streets of Jany-Maala are full of children playing. Large families are not uncommon here, some have as many as seven or eight children. There are no kindergartens or playgrounds in the mahalla to take them to. In the past, women often took their children with them when they went out to beg, which led to a general misconception among the population that Lyuli men do not work.
“They say our men don’t work and just sit at home – that’s not true. The men are mainly engaged on the land, working in the fields and vegetable gardens. Where did this idea that we are all beggars come from? Some have simply become lazy and got used to living off handouts. People think this is our tradition but this is not our way. For example, the area stretching from the Manas monument to the airport consists of plots of land belonging to Jany-Maala, says the head of the village, Umidulla Narmyrzaev.
The villagers farm nearly 100 hectares of land which is mostly done on a daily basis by elderly men. “We plant maize, cotton and wheat. We also grow alfalfa. We sell the harvest and keep livestock too”, says Daminzhan Ormonov, a mahalla resident.
Ormonov tells us that he has worked in the fields all his life. During the Soviet era, he worked on a collective farm, then for himself.
“There used to be a collective farm – then between 1992 and 1994 it was broken up. So now we just work a little bit here and there. Not everyone has a job – 50% are unemployed, especially the women. It would be good if a workshop was built for them. Collecting scrap metal has become difficult – the supply has dried up. There’s no metal left anymore, so it’s not easy for the women”, says Daminzhan.
Customs and language
The Lyuli community has its own language that differs from Kyrgyz and Uzbek, which are the ones most commonly heard in Osh. Our language is close to Tajik, though there are differences and dialects. It’s similar to what’s spoken in Iran, Afghanistan and Tajikistan – we speak Farsi, says the head of the village, Umidulla Narmyrzaev.
For many years, society has associated the Lyuli community solely with begging. Although these places are close to the city, very few people know what their daily life is really like. This is because the former village remains closed to outsiders and strangers rarely walk its streets.
The current Lyuli generation are keen on integrating into Kyrgyz society, to receive an education and learn a trade. The city authorities have already announced a plan to redevelop the area, which has recently become an official part of the city. However, it is difficult to predict when this will be implemented and how exactly things will change.
