The three pillars of Kazakh morality.

Asyly Osman, a promoter of the Kazakh language, member of the National Assembly of Kazakhstan, specialist in Kazakh studies, and an ethnic Azerbaijani, reported that approximately 150,000 of her ethnic compatriots currently reside in Kazakhstan. The majority are in the Turkestan region and primarily descendants of Azerbaijani families deported in 1944.

– They are fluent in the state language, so I have no reason to be ashamed of my people, – says Asyly Osman. – Abai said that if you know the language of another people, you will understand their soul, and I dare to consider myself one of those people.

I grew up in the village of Zhana Talap in the Tulkubas district of the South Kazakhstan region. When families like mine were relocated here from Georgia, I was three years old. My father recounted that at three o'clock in the morning, an American "Studebaker" arrived, and all the residents of our village were ordered to load into the truck. We were taken to Borjomi, shoved into cattle cars, and sent to Kazakhstan via the railway that was built by the deported Azerbaijanis themselves. As soon as we crossed the border, at each station starting from Shevchenko (now Aktau), one car was detached. We and other people were left in Tulkubas, and then 5–6 families were settled in different villages.

The war was on, and the Kazakhs, who had recently endured famine and repression, found it hard to cope themselves, but they still shared what they could with us. This especially affected our family. My mother passed away a year after our deportation to Kazakhstan – she went out for food rations, a blizzard started, and she wandered for several hours in the steppe before reaching home, catching a deadly cold.

My father, left with six children, the youngest barely older than an infant, never remarried, even though he was only 37 at the time. I later asked him why he didn't try to rebuild his life. He said that if anyone were to marry a widower with many children, his kids would be left to fend for themselves. It was difficult for us – to say the least – but our neighbors never left us alone. Especially Ayitbika-zhineshem and Serikbay-kokem, her husband. They became like close relatives to us.

We all graduated from the Kazakh school; there was no other in our village. But as soon as we crossed the threshold of our home, we spoke among ourselves in our native language. Dad said that if Azerbaijani compatriots visited us, they might think he was raising us to disrespect our native culture and language. "And then I would feel like sinking into the ground," he emphasized his responsibility.

Kazakh morality, according to Asyly-apai, has always been based on three words – "ұят", "жаман" and "обал". Sharing her life and professional experiences, she explains:

– Nowadays, the word "ұят" has been distorted, but back then, when urging not to go against one's conscience, they would say: "Ұят болады". Warning against irreversible mistakes, they would caution: "Жаман болады". And to prevent hearts from hardening: "Обал болады". My father, not knowing this age-old Kazakh wisdom word-for-word, seems to have followed it strictly. And now, many years later, I think that all Muslim peoples lived by similar rules: first and foremost – humanity, everything else is secondary. And the first educator and teacher is the family. Kazakhs say: "Отбасы – тәрбие ошағы. Ұрпақ тәрбиесі – болашақ тірегі", meaning the family is the foundation of upbringing, and it is the pillar of the future. And if Kazakhs living in Kazakhstan poorly master or do not speak their native language at all, I believe the responsibility lies with the parents.

After finishing school, Asyly Osman, after consulting with her father, decided to continue her education.

– Times were tough, and among all the Azerbaijani girls in my class, I was the only one who received higher education, – she continues. – Thanks to my father: if any of his children wanted to study further, he would just tighten his belt. My brother graduated from the mechanics and mathematics faculty at KazGU, I became a philologist, and I personally educated my younger sister Asya – she became a teacher of biology and geography. To not let my father down, I studied so hard that I had no time for personal life. When I graduated from the institute (the faculty of Kazakh philology at ZhenPI), my father came to Almaty to support me before my thesis defense. He was proud of me, dreaming that I would soon stand on my own feet, get an apartment, and he would move in with me. He didn't make it; he passed away in 1969 at the age of only 61. Before his death, my father left me an amanat – to take care of my sisters, both the eldest and the youngest. "You are strong; they need your support," he said. The elder sister could not even get a basic education – she had to help my father raise us after our mother's death, and the youngest needed guidance to help her find her path in life. I fulfilled all these last wishes. I married off both sisters; unfortunately, the youngest passed away early. As for my beloved work, I have dedicated my life to promoting the Kazakh language, striving for it to attain the status it deserves, not just in declaration but in reality.

It is rightly said that the fate of a language is the fate of a country. Without it, there will be neither people nor state, but unfortunately, many still do not understand this. What solution do I see? One where the state language is indispensable. I see no obstacles to this. The Chinese language is considered one of the most difficult in the world, yet when parents send their children to study there, they master it within a year. This indicates not only its demand but also the high motivation of those who study it.

Ahmet Baitursynuly said that when a language is lost, a people is lost, and Kadir Myrzaliev believed that if there is no language, there is no state. I also wrote in my time that without one's language, a person is empty. Language is a living organism and, as Leo Tolstoy said, an immortal, sacred treasury of a people's soul. Sabit Mukanov asserted that even iron tires and breaks, and we, humans, will eventually leave this life, but our history and culture will remain eternal thanks to language. Yes, it is necessary to know many languages. Russian is for interethnic communication, English is for international communication, and the state language is to be a citizen of the country in which you live.

When I'm asked which language and mentality I feel closer to – Azerbaijani or Kazakh, I respond that although my passport identifies me as Azerbaijani, in my soul I am Kazakh, and the language closest to me is Kazakh, which is why I advocate for it. I rarely visit Azerbaijan, although I have met both Heydar and Ilham Aliyev in person and participated in the World Congress of Azerbaijanis. Still, my homeland is where I have lived my entire conscious life and established myself as a specialist, and I remind you, I am a connoisseur of Kazakh philology who defended her thesis on the semantics of words in Mukhtar Auezov's novel "Abai Zholy".