Mazkur hikoyada kundalik hayotda uchraydigan oddiy savdo jarayoni orqali halollik, mas’uliyat va insoniylik kabi fazilatlar yoritiladi. Muallif Rossiyada tahsil olayotgan paytida quloqchin sotib olish jarayonida yuzaga kelgan kichik muammo haqida hikoya qiladi. Sotuvchining vijdonli munosabati, xaridor oldidagi mas’uliyati va halolligi voqea orqali ta’sirchan tarzda ochib beriladi. Asar insoniy qadriyatlarning millat va hudud tanlamasligini ko‘rsatadi.
Kalit so‘zlar: halollik, savdo madaniyati, mas’uliyat, insoniylik, sotuvchi va xaridor munosabati, ishonch.
Аннотация В данном рассказе через простой случай из повседневной жизни раскрываются такие человеческие качества, как честность, ответственность и порядочность. Автор описывает ситуацию, произошедшую во время покупки наушников в период обучения в России. Несмотря на возникшую небольшую неисправность товара, продавец проявляет честность и ответственность перед покупателем. Рассказ показывает, что такие человеческие ценности, как честность и добросовестность, не зависят от национальности и границ.Ключевые слова: честность, культура торговли, ответственность, человечность, отношения продавца и покупателя, доверие.
Annotation This story highlights values such as honesty, responsibility, and humanity through a simple situation from everyday life. The author describes an incident that occurred while purchasing headphones during his studies in Russia. Despite a minor defect in the product, the seller demonstrates honesty and responsibility toward the customer. The story emphasizes that human values such as honesty and integrity go beyond nationality and borders.
I study in Russia. Recently, I bought a pair of headphones. Since the distance was quite far, I asked the seller to deliver them to the place where I live (my rented apartment). He agreed and brought the headphones. I received the product, but the delivery person did not give me even 15 minutes to check it. Therefore, I had to test the headphones later. After he left, I tried them. Unfortunately, the volume control buttons did not work, although the rest of the headphones worked perfectly. I thought, “Never mind,” and decided not to tell the seller about it. After some time, unexpectedly, the seller himself contacted me on Telegram. He asked how the headphones were working. At that moment, I told him the truth — that the volume control buttons were not functioning.
The seller immediately called me and sincerely apologized. He then refunded the full price of the headphones. What surprised me the most was that he also told me to keep the headphones as a gift. Although I am still young, I have visited several countries. In those places, I have also faced various problems while shopping. In many cases, sellers would turn off their phones or simply ignore messages.
This incident proved something to me once again: honesty and conscience do not depend on nationality. Once again, I was impressed by the honesty of the Russian people.
About the Author
Muslimbek Abdukarimov is a computer engineering specialist with a higher education. He works in the field of modern technology. His writings reflect real-life events, human values, and meaningful situations from everyday life.
High-Dimensional Wisdom Mentor / High-Dimensional Spiritual Poet / Inheritor of Dongba Culture / Master of Traditional Chinese Culture / Great Master of World Multiculturalism / Donor and Founder, Dean of Yulong Wenbi Dongba Culture Academy / Dean of Aming Gaotu High-Dimensional Wisdom Academy / Philanthropist
Beyond the Firmament
(Homeward Chapter)
Poem By Wan Yilong
Translated By Lan Xin
When the morning star rises in the east
In the starry sky hang countless sorrowful eyes
I open my wisdom eyes and gaze
Beyond the galaxy tears have long been pouring
I whisper to the universe what happened
She unfolds a picture before me
Countless mechs overturn heaven and earth
Countless planets burn with raging war
Myriad races slaughter each other
Billions of lives wither in strife
Ruined walls and fragments turn to glaze
Dead planets only cold iron shadows remain
Surviving star people struggle to forage in black water
All I see is rotten bones
Hungry rushing here and there
Mutated beasts no longer fit to eat
They hunt in packs spread plague
Despair spreads silently in the dust
Desperate beings pray to heaven
A voice echoes slowly
We have stored food
When rows of dark caves are opened
Out step
Men women and children in swaddling clothes
All gasp in astonishment is this our food
The voice replies
They are our clones
I close my eyes in sorrow
The universe whispers admonition
All beings must awake
Every life is a child of the universe
Every soul yearns for ascension
Dark technology will eventually turn on itself
Cold power only destroys life
We are all brothers born of the same womb
Without love there is no universe
Without compassion even destruction cannot be reborn
Love and compassion are the eternal themes of the universe
With this thought even in purgatory
We can be reborn
That scene is the universe’s past
And also the mirror of the future
Mother universe is calling out
Wake up
Greed confuses the eyes
Souls sink in delusion
Love and hate are self-imposed barriers
Greed anger delusion are the cages of the heart
Every planet can be a cage for the heart
Everybody can be a dojo for awakening
Look within you are complete
Every soul yearns for light
Compassion can break the curse of all dark technology
Souls will ultimately live forever at the source of the universe
The ultimate civilization of the world is about to begin
Its name is universal harmony
We come from eternity rush to this moment
Only to wake up the sleeping beings
Live in the present change the past determine the future
The past and the future are but a single thought
I wake slowly from meditation
The morning sun illuminates the mountains and rivers and every heart
From now on I have no choice but to move forward
This is my fate
Is also your fate
And even more the common fate of all beings
Technology must ultimately serve the ascension of souls
Footnote
Taking homecoming as its central metaphor, this poem lays bare the absurdity and spiritual awakening of an age dominated by technology. Mechs and warfare, cloning and alienation unfold in layered progression, striking straight to the spiritual predicament of modern society. Breaking free from linear narrative, it employs vivid visual metaphors and interior monologue to explore the eternal themes of love and redemption, selfhood and the mirrored self. The fate and awakening revealed at its close represent the homecoming not only of the individual, but of all sentient beings.
By Mamatkulova Mukhlisa Tg:@mamatkulova_mukhlisa Uzbekistan, Samarkand.
The Double-Edged Sword: Microfinance and Its Global Economic Impact
Smart Money for Small Business: Navigating the Microfinance Frontier.
For decades, the global financial system operated as a closed club, excluding nearly 1.7 billion unbanked adults who lived on less than $2 a day. Microfinance emerged as a revolutionary tool to fix this market failure, aiming to unleash the productive capacities of the poor through modest loans, savings, and insurance. In 2026, this sector has evolved from a narrow focus on “entrepreneurial finance” to a broader “household finance” model, providing vital liquidity for small shops and medical expenses. Currently, the market is on a high-growth trajectory, valued at $266.13 Billion in 2026 and projected to reach $406.39 Billion by 2030.”
The Economic Benefits: Catalyzing Growth from the Bottom Up Microfinance acts as a powerful growth accelerator at the local level by targeting those traditionally excluded due to a lack of collateral.
1) Poverty Alleviation & Income Growth: Studies indicate that households with access to microfinance see an average income gain of 15–25% compared to those without. In countries like Bangladesh, microfinance has contributed to 8.9% to 11.9% of national GDP in recent years. The global microfinance market is projected to grow to $266.13 billion by the end of 2026. This represents a CAGR (Compound Annual Growth Rate) of 11.2%, which is significantly higher than the global average GDP growth of 3.3% reported by the IMF for 2026.
2)Empowering Women: Approximately 80% of microfinance clients are women. Empowering women yields undeniable returns; evidence shows that children of female borrowers are less likely to experience illness or illiteracy, as mothers prioritize education and healthcare spending. Reliable 2025/2026 data shows that women maintain an average repayment rate of 96%, compared to 91% for men, making them the most ‘bankable’ demographic in the microfinance frontier
3)Building Resilience: Beyond loans, micro-savings and micro-insurance act as “safety mechanisms,” preventing families from slipping back into poverty when hit by unexpected shocks like droughts or illnesses. As of 2026, these micro-insurance mechanisms cover over 344 million people globally, representing a 70% increase in just three years. This is critical because, without insurance, a single climate shock like a drought can slash a small farmer’s annual income by 15% to 18% instantly, creating a debt trap that lasts for generations.
The Structural Weaknesses: When “Smart Money” Fails
Despite its successes, the microfinance model faces significant criticisms and operational hurdles.
1)The Burden of High Interest Rates: Microfinance loans often carry high interest rates—weighted averages for some products in late 2025 reached 24.13%, with maximums near 30%. These high rates are driven by the massive operational costs of delivering small loans to remote areas, but they can be perceived as exploitative. Specifically, these high rates are a byproduct of Operating Expense Ratios (OER) that average 15.8% to 19.2% for rural MFIs. In finance terms, the administrative cost of processing a $100 loan is nearly the same as a $10,000 loan, creating an inherent diseconomy of scale for micro-lenders
2)The Trap of Over-Indebtedness: Critics argue that without proper regulation, borrowers can accumulate interest over long periods, leading to a “strangle-hold of debt”. This phenomenon, known as ‘Loan Cycling,’ is a systemic risk; 2026 market data indicates that in saturated regions, up to 14% of borrowers now hold three or more active loans simultaneously. This pushes the Portfolio at Risk (PAR 30)—the industry standard for measuring defaults—above the critical 5.5% threshold, signaling a credit bubble. In some cases, poverty itself drives individuals to take loans they cannot repay, potentially escalating poverty levels in the long run.
3)Regulatory & Political Risk: Governments often intervene with interest rates ceilings to protect the poor, which can inadvertently cause markets to contract as lenders retreat from high-risk rural areas. Recent legislation, like the Bihar MFI Bill 2026 in India, has introduced tighter oversight and caps, causing immediate market volatility for major lenders.
Historical Precedent: As shown in this data from the Asian Development Bank, when strict interest rate caps are introduced (black line), borrower outreach often plateaus as the diseconomy of scale makes small-ticket lending unsustainable for MFIs.
He lowered himself slowly into one of the old wooden rocking chairs on the porch. It was one of two identical chairs put in place several years ago back when there was something to look at out there. Now, it sat idle and still, caked with dust and the remains of the occasional dead insect.
He rocked himself slowly so he wouldn’t feel his lightness of being, his drained and feathery non-man body, the emptiness of his core. Yesterday he had rocked himself a bit too hard and thought he felt his empty stomach touch his spine.
He almost ended it right then and there.
No telling what he would look like when they eventually found him if he gave in to that. Still prideful, he was not about to leave an unsightly and unattractive mess for all to see.
After all, he reasoned with himself, if he still had enough strength left to rock himself gently, he was not quite done. And if he was not quite done, he would just be damned if he would lower himself to ask for another piece of low-paid work, a chunk of bread for lunch, or an onion for the now gourmet one-potato soup. He would just be damned.
Two and a half long years into the Great Depression and he had had it with the begging. He was a man after all, a strapping, strong provider, not a hand-out man, not a mislaid flop of skin.
He’d run the tobacco and sugar cane farm the same as his father and his father before him. Until now. Now it was all windborne dusty brown earth and weeds, with the occasional mass of hot dung dropped by his only remaining cow. He couldn’t decide whether to slaughter the cow for the meat or keep her for the milk, although at this point the milk was scarce, and the body was mostly bone. Even so, Vandelay was like family. He just couldn’t kill her. Not yet.
He, his wife and his young son were already on the brink of starvation before he sent the two of them to live with her mother in another state. At least she had chickens and small stream on her land full of catfish. It had been for the best. Especially after he had caught his wife levelling his shotgun at Vandelay. So, he sent them away. It had been a year, and he hadn’t heard anything from them, so he supposed they were still surviving. At least if things went wrong where they were now and they died hungry he wouldn’t have to watch it. The state he had been in for the last few years had made him ok with them not being alive as long as he didn’t have to be there when it happened. That way, whatever happened to them wasn’t on him.
The banging on the frail wooden front door startled him. And then the yelling of his name, “Henry, Henry! Open up, Henry!”
He recognized the voice right away. It was his closest neighbor down the road, Eisel. They had bonded over their poverty and stark desperation and kept each other afloat sharing whatever they had or managed to get. He sure hoped Eisel wasn’t there to borrow anything. Today, he had nothing but well water and a bit of sugar.
“Open up, Henry!” Eisel continued to yell.
“What Eisel, what?” Henry asked as he opened the door.
Eisel held out a piece of winkled paper. A flyer of some kind.
“Read this Henry!’ Eisel exclaimed. “Read this and let’s go!”
It was only then that Henry looked down at the rotting word porch and saw Eisel’s small suitcase.
“Read it, man!” Eisel insisted. “Then grab whatever you want to remember from this barren pile of rocks and dirt, stuff it in my suitcase if you want, and let’s go!”
“Go where?” Henry asked with a slight chuckle.
“Read the damn paper, Henry!” said a now testy Eisel.
“Ok, Ok!” Henry replied as he held the paper in front of his face.
LOOKING FOR STEADY EMPLOYMENT? GOOD WAGES? LEARNING NEW SKILLS?
COME AND JOIN US IN BUILDING THE WATER BRIDGE!
ASSEMBLE AT: THE UNION HALL 123 TOMMY PLACE SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA WE ARE LOOKING FOR: IRON WORKERS CARPENTERS GENERAL TRADES TRAINING AVAILABLE
All he had to do was look out of one of his dust-covered windows at the barren expanse it displayed to know there was nothing to think about or consider. This was the lifeline he needed.
“Just one problem, Eisel. How will we eat and how will we get there?”
“I got that all figured out, Henry. I do have a car after all, my good man. We can do odd jobs along the way. We know how to do a lot of things. We can work for food, we can work for shelter, we can work for money. When we run out of gas, we will hitch a ride. But Henry, we have got to go!”
Henry gathered his meager belongings and ignoring Eisel’s suitcase offer, placed them in a paper sack. He grabbed the shotgun as he walked out of the front door. He dropped the sack on the ground, pointed the shotgun at Vandelay and fired. To his relief, she dropped with a noiseless grace.
At least she wouldn’t be alone he thought.
He put the shotgun on the backseat floor and his sack of belongings on the rear seat. Then he climbed into the passenger seat of Eisel’s now rusting 1921 Ford Model T, bought when he was in his heyday supplying sugar cane produced moonshine and raking in vast profits. Eisel hadn’t saved a damn dime and now that he really needed it, had little but that car to show for all the money he had made.
“Wait a minute, Eisel. I forgot something,” Henry said before Eisel drove off.
Henry ran from the car and back into the house. Shortly, he reappeared. As he walked toward the car, Eisel saw he had a mason jar with the lid screwed on tightly to avoid spillage of the precious liquid inside.
Well water with sugar.
Who knows how they did it, but they did. Along the way, most people were polite and generous with what little they had, sometimes almost eager to share as if it would bring them more or at least the comfort that they were not alone. Henry and Eisel slept in the car until the engine caught fire a third of the way to California in a little town in Oklahoma. From there they hitched rides in cars, on the backs of trucks, wagons and the occasional baggage car, but mostly they walked. The routes they travelled were always dictated by the conveyance they could find going westward.
They slept in parks and one time the woods. Sometimes homeowners would wake up to find them sleeping on their porches and shoo them away, but they learned quickly that if they stuck to porches of elderly folks, there was always a chore or two that could be exchanged for a hot meal.
One arthritic couple simply could no longer reach the cans of beans, preserves and flour they had stored on a high shelf and credited Eisel and Henry with saving their lives, along with a feast of biscuits, plum preserves and meatless chili. Sometimes a bath was offered and one time they were invited into a crumbling mansion and got to sleep in real beds.
They never had enough money for a hotel. Lucked up in Carson City and did three days’ worth of clean-up work for a used-to be rich furniture store owner who was trying to save his business after a severe rainstorm and a leaky roof. That payment allowed them to eat fairly well for the rest of the trip. Not one ounce of real trouble. There were so many like them at the time it was a normal thing to see people out of place.
After three weeks of slow travel, they found themselves at the door of 123 Tommy Place.
They were both hired right away as general laborers, Henry signing up to be trained as an iron worker, Eisel, a carpenter.
At the job site, the men were leaving for the day. Wives and children were waiting for them at the base of the elaborate expanse of scaffolding that seemed to float above the bay waters. Neither Henry nor Eisel could figure out how this bridge over all this water could be built, but it was happening, and they would be a part of history.
Still in awe of it all, Henry’s attention was broken when among the families beginning their walks to the cars and buses that would take them home, he thought he heard a familiar voice.
He turned in time to see young iron worker bend to kiss his wife and hug his young son in a way that seemed as natural for them as it was familiar to him.
He briefly thought this could have been his life if he had been put in another place at another time, but he quickly dismissed the notion as a wasteful musing.
That night, as he and Eisel settled into the boarding house provided by the union, he couldn’t stop thinking about them.
It would turn out that he would see them often, almost every day at quitting time when the wife and son would show up to greet the young man named Vincent, a journeyman ironworker. Vincent was experienced enough to have his own section of the bridge near the top of the scaffold away from other workers. Henry worked closely with Vincent during his first six months of training and Vincent was generous in showing him all the basic skills and nuances of the trade as well as how to safely climb and descend the scaffolding which had already taken several lives.
From the beginning of the project, workers would slip and fall through the scaffold gaps or lose balance from high places and plummet to the bay waters below. There was only one who survived the fall and did not drown, but he eventually died in hospital of his many injuries.
Henry became obsessed with Vincent and his family, asking many questions which the proud family man Vincent was always willing to answer.
Henry came to know that Vincent had met his then wife-to-be and her boy on a train from Utah to California. It was love at first sight for all three of them he bragged joyfully. Said her ex-husband had been a cruel and evil man who loved his cow more than he loved his family and had died a few years back.
Henry knew then who the woman was.
Who the boy was.
At least in his mind, he did. It all fit, so it had to be.
Henry could not let it be.
As Vincent stood to stretch, Henry pushed him off the scaffolding. He pushed him so hard that Vincent was propelled several feet beyond the edges of the scaffolding and appeared to try to flap his arms and fly before he hit the waters below.
Although it happened quickly, Henry took it all in as an amused observer, laughing at Vincent’s hopeless attempts to save himself.
“Well, you may be a wife stealing son of a bitch, but you ain’t no bird!” Henry yelled as Vincent continued to flail.
Before Henry could yell for help and act as though another accidental tragedy had occurred, he felt a strong pull on his legs and arms. His limbs were being wrenched from his body. There was no blood, only a smattering of dust and dried remnants of what had been left of him so many years before. Then followed the rest as it was absorbed and disappeared into the keep.
Kament then completed the rest of his process. Destruction.
As Kament stood at a narrow corner of the now completed bridge, preparing to move on to his next, he looked up to see a glistening array of human forms floating upward from the bay. One by one, all of those lost to the building of the bridge were being rescued and rising to stardust.
He recognized Vincent right away and wondered why since recognition was not one of the things he was supposed to be able to do. His fading was beginning to become more pronounced.
But none of this up floating was his doing. He was not assigned to and had not prompted this rescue and knew it signaled a major shift in purpose and report.
He was weary. Weary enough to linger.
Transfixed and immobile he continued to gaze at the elegant rising forms. His shutdown was suddenly interrupted by a line of bright light appearing just below what they called their horizon, calling his name, calling him home.
