Travelling to other countries for me means coming into contact with other people, cultures and ways of life. Travelling by bicycle means for me encountering these situations without a shell.
Of course, on my travels, I regularly meet people who live in completely different circumstances to our own. Mostly these are exciting encounters that broaden my own horizons and change my outlook on life. However, sometimes they are difficult encounters too.
I often consciously leave such moments out of my texts or try to describe them as neutrally as possible. Because I find it extremely difficult to write about other life realities without taking my own as a benchmark. Today I'm making an exception.
About three kilometres before my stage destination yesterday, a man named Kamoliddin stopped next to me on his moped. We got chatting, and before I had properly understood what was happening, he invited me to his home – for a meal and for the night. I gratefully accepted.
He drove ahead, and I followed him through the twilight to his house. There I was received by his family: his wife, his mother, and – as it turned out later – one of his daughters. It was cordial, uncomplicated, natural. A hospitality that one could only wish for.
The men went into the „good room“ and were served soup, meat, and bread, along with tea and biscuits. As so often on this journey, translation apps were key to communication. Later, Kamoliddin's brother joined us, who spoke a little English – that made many things easier.
After dinner, Kamoliddin sat down with me and said he wanted to introduce me to someone else. Then he brought his second daughter into the room.
„Our daughter Umida was born in the eighth month,“ he began. „She is now eight years old. She suffered a head injury at birth and was later diagnosed with cerebral palsy.“
Explanation: Cerebral palsy is a condition caused by damage to the developing brain that affects movement, posture and coordination. It usually arises around birth and lasts a lifetime, to a very differing extent.
Since then, the family has been fighting – day by day. For eight years they have tried everything: treatments in various clinics in Samarkand and Tashkent, repeated hope, repeated setbacks. So far, without the hoped-for breakthrough, to at least enable Umida to walk independently.
Now there is a new opportunity.
„We need to take her to India for treatment,“ said Kamoliddin. „For that, we need 20,000 US dollars. We have an appointment – we're supposed to fly on June 9th.“
Doubts began to arise within me at that moment. So, I had been invited to... yes, to what exactly?
Then he asked me for something I hadn't expected: to record a video and share his daughter's story. Perhaps people would help. Perhaps someone would see this story and contribute something.
In his words lay so much hope – and at the same time so much despair. For a brief moment, I felt used. But then I realised: Perhaps I can simply be a small beacon of hope for this family.
I don't know if their expectations are greater. But I was able to accept this role.
Not because I know if it will work. But because I’ve seen how hard this family fights – and how much they believe in this chance.
I am aware that there is also a lot of suffering here. That there are people in our immediate vicinity who need help. And that we cannot help everyone. Therefore, I do not associate any expectations with this text.
I'm simply fulfilling a promise. I'm sharing this story. And perhaps, in doing so, I'm a small, hopeful part of their journey.
If you're reading this and would like to help – whether by sharing, drawing attention to it, or even supporting, you'll find a note at the end of this text.
Note:
You are free to share this text and the video (available on YouTube and Instagram). I have Kamoliddin's permission for this.
I'm not sure if money can be transferred directly to a VISA card (see end of video). Kamoliddin thinks it's possible.
Alternatively, I have set up a PayPal pool until 07.06.2026: PayPal Pool
I will forward any donations collected to Kamoliddin.