Əli

Please introduce yourself and tell us a little about yourself.

My name is Əli, I’m 54. I was born in Qaratəhlə, and almost my whole life has been spent here. I grew up inside this village from childhood; I’ve lived my life knowing these roads, these streets, these people. Every stone, even every tree, holds a memory for me. I lived in Baku for a few years and studied there. I was young, I wanted to see the world. But however long I stayed there, I always had a feeling inside that my place is here. In the end I came back to the village. Now I work in the village. The work is simple, but what matters to me is stability and providing for my family.

What does Qaratəhlə mean to you?

For me, Qaratəhlə isn’t just the place where I live. It is my life itself. I could leave here and live somewhere else, but this village never leaves me. Sometimes you go to the city, you spend time in other places, but your thoughts still come back here. There’s a kind of ease in this village, a kind of familiarity. Here a person doesn’t feel like a stranger. Everyone knows you. They know who you are, which family you come from. In one way that’s a responsibility, and in another way it’s trust.

What was daily life in the village like? Can you remember what a day was like for you?

In the old days the day started completely differently. You got up early in the morning, before the sun was fully up. There was already movement in the house: someone was seeing to the animals, someone was going out into the yard, someone was fetching water. That was normal for everyone. As a child I helped my father too. Sometimes I didn’t want to, to be honest; I was a kid, after all. But then you’d see that everyone was working, and you’d join in. That shapes a person too. Then we’d go to school. After school, life outdoors would start again. Either we met up with friends, or we helped out with some job. The evening was something else entirely. People would gather. They’d sit in somebody’s yard, drink tea, talk. That atmosphere is gone now. Now everyone is more on their own.

Could you tell us more about relations between neighbours?

Back then, being neighbours was a central part of life. Now a neighbour is just the person who lives next to you. But back then a neighbour meant part of the family. For example, if someone had a problem at home, it wasn’t considered only their problem. Everyone came. They helped. And you knew that tomorrow, when you needed something, they would come. I remember once a neighbour’s house was being built. Half the village came and helped. Nobody did it for money. That’s just how it was. Now there’s a bit less of that. People have withdrawn more into their own lives.

How were weddings and ceremonies held?

Weddings were big before, and they’re still big now. That has hardly changed. In Qaratəhlə a wedding is still not just a family event. It’s something that happens with the whole community taking part. Even now people gather: those who live in the village come, and so do those who live away from it. Whoever can’t come in person sends money, gives support. It’s an unwritten rule: everyone knows that today you help, and tomorrow they’ll help you. In the past more things were done by hand, the food was cooked at home, the organisation was simpler. Now some things have changed: sometimes it’s in a restaurant, sometimes it’s done in a more modern way. But the core meaning hasn’t changed. A wedding is still something that brings people together. It isn’t only a celebration; it’s where relationships grow stronger.

What were mourning ceremonies like?

You can say the same thing about mourning. It’s still a tradition that is very strongly kept. When something happens to someone, it isn’t only their family’s grief. The whole village feels it. People come, they help, they give both material and moral support. Even those who live away from the village take part. Whoever doesn’t come sends money, calls, asks how things are. That bond doesn’t break.

What changes came into your life after the Soviet period?

The biggest change came after the Soviet Union collapsed. Until then people lived by certain rules. Everything was orderly. You worked, you got a salary, you could more or less plan your future. Our family worked too, worked hard, saved money. Nobody did anything illegal; everyone lived by the rules. But one day everything changed. All of a sudden that money was worth nothing. What we had saved practically disappeared. People didn’t know what to do. Experience didn’t help either, because the old system was gone. The hardest part was that you felt as if you were in a void. The rules you had worked by until yesterday didn’t work anymore. And there was another feeling too, as if all of a sudden you had been left empty-handed. That’s a heavy thing for a person. Our family lost a lot as well. But we kept going. That’s how people in the village are: they’ve seen hardship, but they haven’t stopped.

How did people adapt after that period?

It was hard. Very hard. People didn’t know what to do. Some went to the market, some started trading, some went back to farming. Everyone was trying to find their own way. We, too, went back to the land in the village. Because there was no other way out. The land doesn’t let you down halfway. However hard things get, it gives you something. But the old life and this life were completely different. Before, you lived by a plan; after that, you started thinking day to day: what will happen tomorrow, how will it go.

How did these events affect the way you think?

A person changes. You’re forced to change. You understand that nothing is permanent. What is here today may not be here tomorrow. So you become a bit more careful, a bit more realistic. For me the biggest lesson was that a person should rely only on their own hard work. The system can change, the rules can change, but your ability to work stays with you.

How has the language situation developed in the village?

We speak Azerbaijani. It’s our mother tongue. At home and in the street, everyone speaks it. We had Georgian at school, but honestly, many people couldn’t learn it well. As a result, people were comfortable in their own village but had difficulties once they left it.

How is it now?

It has changed a bit. Young people now find more opportunities. There’s the internet, there are extra resources. But you can’t learn a language from lessons alone. You have to use it. If you don’t use it in daily life, the language doesn’t stick.

How is it with your own children?

There’s a difference. My daughter knows the language better. She paid more attention to it, both at school and afterwards. Now she speaks it easily. My son, on the other hand, struggles. He knows it too, but he isn’t fluent. And that affects his plans. If you don’t know the language, you have fewer choices. Finding work gets harder, there are fewer chances for education. That’s why young people look for another way out. They want to go abroad, they want to get into a different system.

Do you think that’s good or bad?

It’s both good and bad. It’s good because people develop, they see new things. It’s bad because the village is emptying. If everyone leaves, who will the village be left to?

What does the idea of “community” mean in Qaratəhlə?

Community here is something very concrete. It isn’t just a word. It’s a real bond. People are connected to one another. You don’t live alone. If something happens to you, people will come. If you have something to celebrate, people will share it. It isn’t written down anywhere, but everyone knows it. People have started living more individually now. But the essential things are still there. At a wedding, at a funeral, on a hard day, the community still shows up.

What can you tell us about the village’s “memory map”?

Every village has a visible side and an invisible side. The visible side is the houses, the streets. The invisible side is the memories. For example, there’s a place that, to someone looking from outside, is just a street. But for me, it’s my childhood. There’s another place where someone lived their life. Maybe that house isn’t there anymore, but the memory remains. You can show a village on a map, but it’s hard to show memory. It can only be passed on by telling. If people don’t talk about it, everything slowly disappears. Because if a person forgets where they came from, they also lose track of where they are going.