Allamjonov's fault

Allamjonov's fault

Komil Allamjonov

Foreword

Why did I write this book?

There are three reasons I might have for writing this book, and two of them simply don't stand up to scrutiny.

The first would be to make money. Well, I don't need any more of that.

The second would be to show the world what a hard-faced renegade I am. But many people both in Uzbekistan and abroad know me well enough that I wouldn't be able to pull the wool over anybody's eyes in that regard.

And then there's a third possible reason: I want to communicate with a certain group of people and tell them something truly important. Those between the ages of fifteen and thirty. Those who are looking at the world and thinking: «What's my next step? How am I meant to live in this ever-changing society? How do I survive? Is there any way for me to become someone important without the support or favour of somebody who's already made it? Who actually needs me and will my dreams ever come true?»

I will tell you about my own journey. What helped me grow up and become the man I am today. I will do my best not to leave anything out.

Until I decided to write this book, I always thought that I was just incredibly lucky. It seemed as if my life had been nothing but uninterrupted success. I mean, as I write, I am sitting here at my desk in my comfortable, warm home with my family; I have a successful business and my work is extremely interesting. Who am I if not Fortune's favoured son?

But when I actually took a moment to look back over my life so far, I realised that things didn't work out for me three or four times more often than they did. There were so many failures for each success that you simply couldn't call it simple luck.

As is well known, my mother was a nurse midwife. Now, midwives don't lead particularly privileged lives, though there is one privilege that they can rely on and that's the ability to give birth to their children at their own workplace, under the care of doctors they trust since, after all, they are all colleagues and friends. But do you know what? When the time came for her to give birth to me, mum's maternity ward, the same one she worked in, was closed for disinfection («cleaning»).