installation

In childhood, we were instructed to familiarize ourselves with the names of our relatives and to trace our family lineage predominantly on the paternal side(we knew 7 names of our paternal side), where female names were notably absent. My sisters and I often questioned this practice, as our names were consistently appended after our father's. The significance of the slender brown volume titled "Sanzhyra" was ubiquitous in our homes, symbolizing a tangible connection to our ancestry. It was customary for affluent individuals to undertake the publication of an extensive tome documenting their lineage, thereby garnering respect and esteem. In my family's case, a weighty volume exclusively chronicling the male lineage was produced, leaving scant recognition for the female contributors to our heritage. As I delved into the annals of our family history, stretching back to the era of great migrations, I encountered a mere four mentions of women: my mother and three grandmothers. This glaring disparity struck me as profoundly unjust.

To me, women epitomize the essence of life itself, akin to the roots of a tree, nourishing and sustaining existence. Yet, the grandeur of the "Sanzhyra" tree, with its imposing presence, seemed to disregard the vital contributions of women, relegating them to obscurity akin to the unseen roots beneath the soil. Their names, labor, their significance, and their very identities remained obscured, lost in the annals of history. However, their stories, their roles, their contributions, and their way of life mustn't be consigned to oblivion. They deserve recognition, for it is through their endeavors that the fabric of our familial and societal tapestry is woven. It is my endeavor to illuminate their presence, to honor their legacies, and to ensure that their names, voices resonate through the corridors of time.