The concept of saving money in a Uzbek bank is complete anathema. Uzbek national banks are as corrupt as the rest of the business world and most people will go to any length to keep their money out of them. Better to bribe your boss into giving your wages in cash, than trying to bribe the bank into releasing even a fraction of your wages. To deal with this situation, women’s' savings parties take place all over Uzbekistan to provide women with an opportunity to save money despite overwhelming odds. Many western assumptions about saving money fall flat in cultures like Uzbekistan's. No one has financial autonomy over their wages, least of all women. Duty bound to lend to relatives and neighbors, it's almost impossible to put money aside without news spreading and a line forming at your front door. As for a woman keeping money from her husband, how could he refuse his unexpected guests the best vodka and mutton in lavish quantities?

We follow one Uzbek woman named Zulhamar as the sun has begun to set, reflecting off the shimmering tiles that decorate the madrassahs and minarets that have made Khiva famous as a Silk Road Oasis. But Zulhamar has no time for sunsets as she picks her way through streets of potholes and scampering children, greeting neighbors and relatives. She is on her way to her monthly women’s savings party. She arrives at her friend Gulnora's house relieved, clutching her purse containing the equivalent of two week's wages, and joins the other chattering guests. There are ten other women, sitting cross-legged around a huge table cloth spread on the floor and covered in fruit, salads, cakes and tea.

All the women are connected in some way, as relatives, neighbors or friends and it is this bond of trust that makes their savings party work. After huge shared plates of rice and mutton have been dispensed with, and all the latest gossip is chewed over, each of the women hands over a bundle of notes to Gulnora and ask her what she will do with her savings. Gulnora had planned to buy a loom and wool with the money, but recently found an ideal match for her teenage son and will use the money to pay for the wedding. Before leaving, the women discuss who will host the party next month, and walk home dreaming of how they will use their cash bonanza of five months wages, when their turn comes around.

Despite this financial climate, Uzbeks have found a way to save money that capitalizes on their cultural asset of strong links of trust within a community. Saving parties are not a new concept introduced by western development agencies, but rather a time honored and respected way of saving money that existed long before such concepts became fashionable among development agencies. Money is saved, not on a month-to-month basis via a faceless banking system, but on a person to person basis, with the breaking of bread cementing the trust and transaction more than an invoice could ever do. During Soviet rule, the official sign hanging above bank buildings read "The People's Bank," a sign that did not garner a great deal of trust. But the community institution of "people’s banking" through savings parties has endured in women’s communities of Uzbekistan.

Chris Aslan, development worker in Khiva