“We hope they will build
a kindergarten, a school
and roads for us”
How the census unfolded in Uzbekistan’s rural area Farish?
“We hope they will build a kindergarten, a school and roads for us”
How the census unfolded in Uzbekistan’s rural area Farish?
On 4 February, the second stage of Uzbekistan’s nationwide census began. Enumerators are now going door to door, collecting data using tablets. Our correspondent travelled to a remote mahalla in the Jizzakh region and surprisingly discovered that local residents had placed high hopes on the census.
On 4 February, the second stage of Uzbekistan’s nationwide census began. Enumerators are now going door to door, collecting data using tablets. The correspondent of Gazeta travelled to a remote mahalla in the Jizzakh region and surprisingly discovered that local residents had placed high hopes on the census.
Maqolani o‘zbek tilida o‘qish
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Uzbekistan launched a population and agricultural census on 15 January, the first since 1989 when the country was part of the Soviet Union. During the first two weeks, until 31 January, residents could complete the form independently online. It was available on the official website in seven languages spoken in the country — Uzbek, Karakalpak, Russian, Tajik, Kazakh, Kyrgyz and Turkmen — as well as in English.

In just 17 days, more than 30 million people — nearly four out of five residents — participated in the census, according to the National Statistics Committee. Uzbekistan’s population exceeded 38.2 million at the beginning of 2026.

The second stage, running from 4 to 28 February, involves door-to-door visits by enumerators. They are correcting errors made during online registration and gathering information from those who did not complete the procedure themselves.
Gazeta’s correspondent Otabek Turdiyev travelled to the Uchquloch mahalla in the Farish district of the Jizzakh region to see how the nationwide count is being conducted in remote and hard-to-access areas.

The settlement of Uchquloch lies in northeastern Farish, south of Lake Aydarkul, and is home to 2,298 people. As in many rural areas, most residents make their living from livestock farming, says Norbibi Akhmedova, head of the local mahalla. The lake has also shaped the community’s economy, with fishing becoming another key source of income. More recently, the construction of a nuclear power plant has created new jobs — about 10% of villagers now work at the site.
Uch quloch
In traditional local measurement, a quloch is the distance between the tips of outstretched arms, and uch means three.
“The name of the mahalla goes back generations. Water could only be found by digging a well about five meters deep — uch quloch,” Norbibi says.
Norbibi Akhmedova 
Head of the Uchquloch mahalla council
We arrived in Farish at 9:30 a.m. on 6 February. Three members of the mahalla seven — the khokim’s assistant Abdulatif Abdukahhorov, youth leader Shahzod Ulugov and social worker Jakhongir Akhmedov — had already begun their rounds. They carried tablets and wore enumerator badges issued by the National Statistics Committee.
A strong wind swept through the district that morning — the open landscape allows gusts to build up to near-hurricane force. The wind damaged power lines and left the mahalla without electricity for about two hours. In remote areas, power outages also mean losing mobile internet access. Mobile operators do not always equip base stations with backup power. They prioritise voice communication over data services. As a result, emergency outages slow down the work of census takers as well.
According to Jakhongir Akhmedov, door-to-door visits take place daily from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. Each staff member works independently and, on average, covers eight to ten households a day. The number is relatively low because, during their rounds, they also attend to their regular responsibilities, addressing residents’ concerns — unemployment, education, pensions, loans, entrepreneurship and other social issues.
“Today is the third day of our door-to-door visits, and we have 103 households left. About 80% of residents filled out the online forms on their own. We are reviewing and correcting any mistakes.”
Abdulatif Abdukahhorov
Khokim’s assistant at the Uchquloch and census enumerator
For example, one of the residents, Ne’mat Komilov, mistakenly entered the size of his house plot during the online registration — listing it as less than 100 square meter instead of 800. The khokim’s assistant received an automatic notification flagging the error. That day, he stopped by Komilov’s house to correct the information and ask the remaining questions included in the census form.
“What do you grow in your yard?”
“My wife plants bell peppers, but they don’t grow well in the shade. We also have some herbs. And we always plant flowers — my wife wouldn’t let it go if we didn’t.”
“What fruit trees do you have?”
“Apple, apricot, quince, mulberry, almond, currant.”
“How many altogether?”
“Well… who would count? Around 70 or 80.”
“Do you keep poultry?”
“Yes. The President said he keeps 30 chickens — so I keep the same.”
After correcting Ne’mat aka’s details, the khokim’s assistant thanked him for taking part and moved on to the next house.

The road leading to Uchquloch was in poor condition before construction of the nuclear power plant began in the area. The village’s internal streets still require repairs.
The nuclear power plant under construction lies about five to six kilometres from the Uchquloch mahalla
Residents view the census almost like a form of “Initiative budget” — a state-run participatory budgeting programme through which citizens can propose and vote on local development projects. They hope it will also draw attention to long-standing infrastructure issues, including the condition of the roads.
“We hope that after the census a kindergarten and a school will be built, and that the roads will improve.”
Norbibi Akhmedova
Head of the Uchquloch mahalla council
The potholed road leads the mahalla’s social worker, Jakhongir Akhmedov, to the home of 79-year-old Norkozi Abdullayev. The women of the household escort him to the aivan, a traditional covered veranda. The head of the family steps out to meet the enumerator, dressed in a blue quilted chapan. His trembling hands suggest he may be suffering from Parkinson’s disease.
“No foreigners have lived in this house — we’re sure of that.”
“I’m a foreigner!” Norkozi jokes.
“What languages do you speak?”
“Russian — excellent. I speak a little Tajik as well. And Armenian — I served in the army with Armenians.”
“What is your level of education?”
“I didn’t study anywhere beyond school. Corruption was rampant in the Soviet Union, so I couldn’t continue my education.”
“You have a central water supply. Hot water is autonomous. Gas… Do they deliver liquefied gas cylinders?”
“Yes, they do. That’s good.”
“Do you keep livestock? How many?”
“Yes — one cow and ten sheeps… So the land tax will not increase now?”
“This is not about taxes. The census is being conducted to assess Uzbekistan’s economic and social situation,” Jakhongir Akhmedov reassures him.
“Auntie, when was your house built?” Abdulatif Abdukahhorov asks one of the residents.
“I am not exactly sure.”
“Then I will mark it as 1980 to 1989.”
“How many rooms are there in the house?”
“Four.”
“You and your husband are both pensioners?”
“Yes, but our pension barely covers even the cost of medicine.”
“How many children do you have?”
“Four sons and a daughter.”
“What fruit trees do you grow?”
“Almonds, apples and mulberries. We used to have an apricot tree, but it dried up.”
“Do you keep sheeps?”
“No, nothing else.”
Residents allow mahalla staff into their homes without hesitation. Gulshoda Yuldosheva says she had seen enumerator Abdulatif Abdukahhorov before and knows that he works in the mahalla. The badge on his chest also reassures her that he can be trusted — otherwise, she would not share personal information with him. She had already completed the census online, but according to the khokim’s assistant, her mother-in-law had not yet been registered.
Gulshoda Yuldosheva
“Do you have heating?”
“A stove.”
“Do you have internet access?”
“Yes, Wi-F too.”
“Bathhouse?”
“Yes.”
“It appears the sewage system is autonomous. How many children did your mother-in-law give birth to?”
“Three.”
Gulshoda Yuldosheva hopes the census will lead to the opening of 10th and 11th grades at the local village school.
“We have many children, but there is only one school. If, God willing, all residents complete the census, we hope our school will be expanded to offer the full 11 years of education. The larger school is far from here, and in winter, during heavy snowfall, it is difficult for children to get there. I believe the census will benefit our mahalla — the roads and the community as a whole.”
Gulshoda Yuldosheva
Resident
This material was prepared with the support of the National Statistics Committee of the Republic of Uzbekistan.
Text and video by Otabek Turdiyev
Translated by Zilola Toirova
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