Most immigrants from Uzbekistan work in the region legally.

The “Dustlik” Center has existed since 1996. Today, it actively helps citizens of Uzbekistan resolve legal issues. But why was it created 14 years ago?

It was my father’s idea — Ziyadulla Safarovich — and he was one of the founders. Our main goal at the beginning was to preserve our national culture. We would gather, speak our native language, and make sure our children didn’t forget our traditions and speech. Over time, of course, much changed. Labor migration increased across the post-Soviet space, and many problems arose that affected our compatriots. That’s when the center began helping citizens of Uzbekistan in difficult situations.

For example, today I met with an elderly woman whose own son is throwing her out of his home. She’s ethnically Korean, but lived in Uzbekistan. She sold her house there and came here. Technically, her situation isn’t directly related to our mission, but she had nowhere else to turn.

— I suppose that’s more of an exception. What are the more common problems?

Mostly, we help people with paperwork. We try to streamline the process: a person arrives, we legalize their status, help them get all their documents, ensure their labor contract is signed — and that’s it, they can work legally. All other relations are then governed by law and contract. There are also other issues — losing a passport, for example. Where do you go? We help resolve matters with the consulate, handle migration registration when there’s no host party. We’ve even set up our own arbitration court to settle disputes within the diaspora. Any citizen of Uzbekistan who feels they’ve been wronged can file a complaint. “Dustlik” has two lawyers, plus representatives from either local organizations or the regional government.

— Has this initiative helped avoid going to court in some cases?

Of course. Why go to court when you can sit down, talk, and resolve the issue? That’s exactly what we wanted to achieve. Sometimes people simply don’t understand each other — one speaks half-Russian, the other speaks Russian — and that’s where conflicts arise.

— One of the main complaints, not only about Uzbeks but all CIS citizens, is working without a permit. What’s the percentage of undocumented workers? Maybe it’s not that many overall?

Since July 1, 2010, Russia has had a law on work patents. It allows foreigners working for private individuals to pay a thousand rubles a month and live and work in the country legally. I think this has brought about 20% of migrants out of the shadows.

— And how many remain in the shadows?

As for citizens of Uzbekistan, in Krasnoyarsk the majority work legally. It’s good when someone can pay and, as they say, “make themselves legal.” It’s much worse when someone arrives, doesn’t know the laws, and has no idea where to go for help — especially since the deadlines for legalization are short. Those are the people we try to help.

— But obviously, without help from the authorities, you can’t solve all the issues. Have you managed to establish constructive cooperation?

The greatest help comes from the regional Federal Migration Service. They conduct large-scale outreach, and the head, Vladimir Nikolaevich Katrechko, personally works to get accurate information to us — which we then pass on to the community. We meet regularly, discuss pressing issues at the public council, and, most importantly, those issues actually get resolved.

— How does our region compare to others in terms of compliance with migration laws?

It’s hard to compare directly, but in the Krasnoyarsk Territory things are stable, calm, and handled professionally. What’s important is that Vladimir Katrechko genuinely cares about the problems of ordinary people.

For example, when two young Uzbek girls ended up in Krasnoyarsk without parents or documents, he did everything he could to help them leave the country and reunite with their father back home. Their mother is Russian. She left Uzbekistan taking the girls with her, became addicted to drugs here, and was soon imprisoned for distribution. The girls stayed in the “Rostok” orphanage. But they couldn’t remain in the orphanage because they have a father in Uzbekistan — who is disabled and unable to come here.

In the end, we gathered all the necessary documents and sent the girls back to Uzbekistan. We received great help from the Uzbek General Consulate, the diaspora, and the regional Federal Migration Service.

— In which fields are immigrants from Uzbekistan employed?

Construction and agriculture — those are the main ones.

— Basically, the sectors that local residents avoid because the work is tough and the pay is low?

Yes, that’s exactly it.

— In this regard, there are two opposing viewpoints. One is that without migrants we would face a huge shortage of labor; the other is that migrants are willing to work around the clock for low wages, creating strong competition for locals and making it harder for them to find jobs. Obviously, you lean toward one view, but could you explain your position?

As the head of a national-cultural center, I’m also a guest here, so I’m not really in a position to comment. Let the people of Krasnoyarsk answer that question. But if there wasn’t a shortage of workers, we wouldn’t be here. The vacancies would be filled, and nobody would come.

— Do you have statistics on how many people come to the center?

This year was tough because Ziyadulla Safarovich passed away, then my brother left, and I went to Uzbekistan for a time. Still, about two thousand people visited us in 2010. In 2008, when we were all working together, around five thousand came in just three months.

— Is such variation connected to your activity or migration trends?

Primarily to migration dynamics, of course. In 2008, there was no crisis yet, but later we ourselves advised our compatriots not to come because it was very difficult to find work.

— Judging by everything, the situation seems to have stabilized. By the way, that’s a good indicator of the economic climate.

Yes, we see there is demand and interest: people come to us repeatedly for help. Here’s a concrete example — a construction company plans to build 200 houses soon, but they don’t have enough workers.

— Do employers often come to you looking for workers?

Sometimes. Most potential employers know about the “Dustlik” consultation and adaptation center, which helps workers and employers find each other.

— Returning to the original idea behind creating the center — have you managed to preserve cultural traditions?

Nowadays, our responsibilities are divided. In Krasnoyarsk, there is a local public organization called “Dustlik” that primarily organizes all cultural events; we just provide support. The chairperson of that organization is Said Formonovich Kholdzhigitov. For many years, he’s been practically in charge of everything: he founded a national ensemble and holds celebrations every month. He’s older than me and holds more firmly to national customs — I went to a Russian school and graduated from Krasnoyarsk University.

Recently, we opened a national cultural and historical café. We aim to have Uzbek dishes prepared there not like in other places, but following truly authentic national recipes. Most Uzbek cuisine you find is modified, but we make real Samarkand plov, sticking exactly to the recipes. Of course, the staff are Uzbeks. We hired a restaurateur who managed a network of restaurants in Uzbekistan for many years. He knows how to welcome guests and what to serve them.

— And how is the “Dustlik” center funded?

We provide various services to both citizens and employers. The amounts are not very large, but enough to keep things running. The main thing is that we’ve taken the pressing issues off the agenda.

— What about your plans and prospects — what are they?

I hope the day will come when our help is no longer needed. Of course, that’s just a plan for now, but that’s exactly what we’re striving for.