Farida Afruz: ANY AWARD IS A BLESSING FROM GOD
Interviewee: Farida Afruz — Vice Chair of the Uzbekistan Writers’ Union, recipient of the “Dostlik” Order, recognized as an Honored Cultural Worker of the Republic of Uzbekistan, renowned poet, prose writer, playwright, and translator.
Jakhongir Nomozov: First of all, I congratulate you on being awarded the high title of Honored Cultural Worker of the Republic of Uzbekistan! What feelings did you experience during the process of receiving this award?
Farida Afruz: Any reward is a blessing from Allah. Happiness when recognized becomes the decoration of your life, the meaning of your existence. In particular, receiving the award from the hands of the Head of State is a great event. Such attention and favor are bestowed only upon certain individuals. At that moment, I realized another truth: when the President holds your hand and congratulates you, the prestige of the award is lost – it doesn’t matter whether it’s an honorary certificate or a heroic deed. The important thing is that standing face to face with the Father of the Homeland, your eyes meeting each other, your face illuminated by light, turns you into a giant tree of the Homeland’s garden, inviting you to shine like a bright lamp of the nation’s palace. Your worth among the worthy adorns you with dignity.
JN:What is the role of the Kokand literary environment, the spirit of the historical city, in your formation as a poet and personality?
FA: The role of Kokand, or rather “Latif Kokand,” is incomparable. A thousand thanks that I was born on such soil, grew up, found happiness, found love, and most importantly – found poetry. About the reign of our great poetess Nadirabegim, she writes: “There were 376 mahallas in the city, and in each of them there were at least 4 poetesses…”
This shows that some of my grandmothers were also poets. Perhaps the blood of my ancestors also flows in Nodirai Davron’s poetic veins. We, the people of Kokand, live with unbreakable pride in the era of the Kokand Khanate, the fame of its art and craftsmanship. Because his incomparable fame spread throughout the world through the “Silk Road.” In each of my cells, pride and comfort are awakened.
JN:”When I realized that life is a spectacle of masks, I felt ashamed of entering it without a mask,” says Jack London. We live among masks and various faces, and it’s very difficult to recognize true faces. How does Farida Afruz protect the image of her heart from the scene of these performances?
FA: I have never performed in these scenes. I always strictly adhere to the saying of my spiritual mentor, Mavlana Rumi: “Appear as you are, be as you appear,” although sometimes this lack of camouflage is difficult for me. My motto is – accept me as I am! A mask can sometimes open paths, but it’s a dead end. A mask is helplessness, desperation, weakness. And without a mask – the truth of living courageously!
JN:When you reread your poem over the years, do you experience a state of self-unrecognition in it?
FA: No, this won’t happen, because even in my poems written over 40 years, Farida is present. Farida, who knew how to live with her mistakes and achievements!
JN:The works you translated are a colorful picture of Turkic, Persian, Russian, German, and Japanese literature. How difficult and enjoyable is it to preserve the spirit and breath of the work without losing the “poet’s voice” in translations?
FA: In translation, the poet must be very vigilant and clever. First of all, it’s important how close the author of the work you want to translate is to you. If his mentality doesn’t blend with yours, the translation won’t be successful. The author of the work must have wandered through the streets of your life and heart at least once. When I translated the Iranian poet Suhrab Sipehri, I walked with him along the main streets of Kashan, in the fields, under the acacia blossoms…
JN: When translating from Anna Akhmatova or Marina Tsvetaeva, which aspect of a woman’s heart affects you the most?
FA: Not only when translating Anna or Marina’s poems, but also when referring to the works of Mehri Hirotiy and Zahro Kabiriy, my feminine heart blended with their feminine nature. Like a man who claims to know a woman, like a woman who claims to know a man, he makes a thousand mistakes. To feel like a woman, she needs to experience labor pains at least once. While translating these Russian poetesses, I, like them, gazed at the moon through prison holes. We cried together, we wrote poetry together…
JN;In 2020-2024, you worked as a deputy of the Oliy Majlis. What did the political school teach you as a poet?
FA: In fact, a poet is an awakened person of the era, therefore, the word of the Motherland, the eyes of the nation, the face of the people. A poet is the most devoted politician, a rebel who rises up against injustice, unfairness, humiliation, and degradation, drawing his pen like a sword. In any case, I think this is how it should be. Parliament showed me state policy, legislative expertise, and the roots of justice. Parliament became a true mentor. He taught the art of being a bridge between the state and the people. It expanded the areas of my thinking, lengthened the ways of thinking. He explained that a true poet doesn’t revolve around his own axis, but that his words have the power to carry the people away in their waves.
JN: What are your thoughts on the place of our national poetry in world literature?
FA: The place of our national poetry in world literature is insignificant, and this worries me. The poets recognized as the best in world literature are equal to our mediocre poets. They’re the ones carrying the Nobel today. However, we have a 3000-year history, a 3000-year history of poetry. Europe can make a movie from one Uzbek poem, dozens of psychologists are conducting life coaching sessions from one of our wise sayings. All my hopes are on the youth, because they are learning the language. But I’m also worried: won’t they get carried away with the languages they’re learning and forget that the true purpose is to show the world the true freshness, power, and power of their native language?
A woman’s heart is vigilant and very sensitive. How much wings and weight does this sensitivity give to creativity?
FA: Poetry is a world of feelings, wonder, and excitement. The tears in a woman’s eyes, the pain, joy, and celebrations in her heart are born from these very feelings. Just as a woman expects love and affection from those around her, a poetess expects attention and recognition for her poetry. Because he creates with a pen in one hand and a cradle in the other. Just as she raises her child and presents it to society, so too does the poetess turn her poems into books and present them to the people.
JN: What question have you asked yourself most often during the creative process?
FA: During my creative process, I have nothing to do but plead with my angels of inspiration: “Don’t leave, let me say what I want to say, let me write what I want to write…”
JN: What do you think are the greatest achievements and greatest losses of Uzbek literature?
FA: The greatest achievement of Uzbek literature is the depth of its roots and the strength of its foundation. We have so many great creators who have written before us that we have a huge school that can easily rely on them, draw inspiration from them, and take pride in them.
JN: To what extent does the idea that “a person should be, first of all, devoted to himself” correspond to your life?
FA: Humans, whether they like it or not, are slaves to their bodies and kings to their spirits. I want these two things to change places in my life. If only we were masters of our desires, slaves of our souls… This must be what loyalty to humanity means.
JN:When does a person lose themselves, when does she find herself?
FA: A person loses themselves in ignorance, finds themselves in knowledge.
JN: What do you think is causing these psychological gaps among young people today?
FA: Lack of books is the source of much ignorance. In it, only the fire of ignorance and negligence burns.
JN: Which do you consider to be the most dangerous feeling in human character?
FA: Indifference. He has such power that he can kill a person. Its even more dangerous aspect in literature is that some people use it as a weapon: as if they don’t see the talent beside them; if they see it, they don’t search; if they find it, they don’t read; if they read it, they don’t understand it; if they understand it, they don’t acknowledge it; if they acknowledge it, they don’t want to tell anyone about it.
***
Interview by: Jakhongir NOMOZOV, is a young poet and journalist from Uzbekistan. He is also a Member of the Union of Journalists of Azerbaijan and the World Young Turkic Writers Union.
