Four women from the ‘Muras’ craft association in Kyzyl Suu, Jeti Oguz district, Kyrgyzstan: the photograph captures the meticulousness and feminine crafts(wo)manship of shyrdak, a Kyrgyz textile craft. Shyrdak refers to fabrics with patterns created by cutting and sewing felted wool sheets. After felting the wool, the craftswoman must cut out the patterns and then sew them together with great detail. Highly insulating, shyrdak was originally used to insulate yurts from the harsh winters. Today, it remains a colourful cultural heritage, inscribed on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage list in 2012.

Credits : Pierre-Armand Dussex (Switzerland)

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Bright sunshine and winter cold: ideal conditions for strolling around Registan Square in Samarkand. The stream of tourists, cameras, and colorful flags of organized tours has dissipated, giving way to the silence of ancient stones. Winter marks the return of the low season and bitter cold: the wind sweeps across the historic sites of Samarkand, emptied of the crowds that flock here in the milder months. While they may have to contend with icy roads, the few winter visitors can admire the shades of blue of the mosques and madrasas in the January light.

Credits : Hélène Garnier (France, @suneclat)

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Last April, Kyrgyzstan’s special forces carried out heavy-handed raids on two of Bishkek’s most popular electronic-music bars. Expecting a hotspot of drugs and illicit activity, officers found instead a young, diverse nightlife community carving out one of Bishkek’s few remaining safe spaces for self-expression. After a year marked by escalated repression and shrinking civil liberties in Central Asia’s “island of democracy,” Novastan sits down with two leading figures from the targeted venues to discuss how their communities endure as Kyrgyzstan slides deeper into authoritarianism.

Kyrgyzstan has long been seen beyond Central Asia as a rare abode of democratic values in a region dominated by post-Soviet authoritarianism. When Sadyr Japarov, the country’s current president, suddenly rose to power in the wake of the 2020 Kyrgyz Revolution, he swore to the nation from day one to protect the Kyrgyz people’s cherished liberty. Four years later, the president himself has emerged as the largest threat to Kyrgyzstan’s already fragile democracy.

Japarov’s governance in just the first two years of his rule landed Kyrgyzstan on the 2022 Freedom House Index’s list of “consolidated authoritarian regimes.” In 2024, Kyrgyzstan earned a position on the CIVICUS Monitor’s “watchlist of countries experiencing a rapid decline in civic freedoms.” At the heart of Japarov’s consolidation of power lies the systematic erosion of Kyrgyzstan’s already flimsy freedom of expression. Japarov has frequently deployed his power over state institutions to stifle dissent in both political and civic spheres. An unlikely casualty of the crackdown has been Bishkek’s emerging techno scene.

Japarov’s Techno Raids

On the night of 14 April 2024, Kyrgyzstan’s special forces, working alongside local police, raided Ailan Bar to conduct a search for illegal substance use at electronic music gatherings. In addition to heavy firearms and drugs tests, the police brought along a professional camera crew to document the raid for their social media page. The following night, another raid was done at PLUR, another of Bishkek’s techno institutions, in a similar fashion. Both bars are central to Bishkek’s electronic music scene and known throughout the city for providing above all else a “safe space” for all partygoers, regardless of background. 

In both instances, officers drew their weapons and forced the men present to lie on the floor with their hands behind their backs while they searched the venues. According to RFE/RL, police assaulted several people at Ailan Bar, striking one in the leg and another in the stomach.

In both raids, police were noted to be genuinely surprised with the minimal amount of illicit substances they were able to sniff out. At Ailan Bar, officers opened the raid with a lecture on “irresponsible drug use,” a message that fell flat when only three of the dozens present tested positive for cannabis use. The police statement regarding that night notes they were only able to find “a ready-made cigarette with narcotics” and a packet of a legal anti-epilepsy medication.

The lack of significant narcotics did not surprise Chyngyz, one of Ailan Bar’s directors and part-owners. “Our community is quite healthy in that sense,” he asserted. Chyngyz explained that like himself, the vast majority of those who enjoy techno music in Bishkek do not use illegal substances at their parties. “I think if people truly love electronic music, they don’t need drugs.”

Read More on Novastan: Inside Bishkek’s Metal Boom: Portrait of a Music Pioneer in Kyrgyzstan

Unlike most patrons to Bishkek’s techno venues, some of the police involved with the raid were later revealed to be engaging in illegal activities themselves. “In the fall, I read in the news that one of the investigators present at the raid got charged with corruption,” Chyngyz stated.

New Wave of Kyrgyz Populism Threatens Self-Expression

For both partygoers and staff, the raids were an unprecedented shock. Up to that point, both bars had been cooperative with local police and had never faced any prior incidents. Both the heavy-handed police tactics and the state’s post-raid messaging indicated that the operations were directed from the highest levels of government.

The raids aligned neatly with Japarov’s emerging populist agenda to enforce traditional Kyrgyz values. “In the government’s eyes, young people must study and start a family. There’s no room for alcohol and dancing,” Chyngyz states. 

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In addition to sensationalizing illegal drug usage in electronic music spaces, authorities have begun to frame Bishkek’s techno community as a conduit for LGBTQ+ influence, portraying it as a danger to Kyrgyz youth due to the bars’ inclusive policies. LGBTQ+ youth in Kyrgyzstan already face severe state and social repression, and to many, Bishkek’s electronic music parties are the only spaces where they are fully allowed to be their truest selves. This, to those running Bishkek’s techno institutions, is a red line they will not back down from. “Keeping our environment safe for all is our main responsibility,” Chyngyz states firmly.

Repression Necessitates Adaptation

After the raid, PLUR bar began adjusting its strategies to deal with the new wave of state repression. Constrained by resources and now under the state’s watchful eye, the bar’s operators refused to surrender to their opposition. “We hadn’t done a lot yet. We still hadn’t shown everybody what we really want to create,” says Innokentii, PLUR’s creative director. “No one has told us no yet.” 

Ailan Bar, too, remained committed to their vision to provide safety and a safe space for their community in the months following the raid. However, their brazen commitment to provide for and defend the LGBTQ+ community had to transition to more covert operations if it were to continue in the new repressive climate. Prior to the raids, Chyngyz used to host regular “queer nights” at Ailan Bar. He is firmly committed to continuing these events, but recognizes that Ailan Bar’s public advertising must now be more strategic. “It is all about being discreet. Queer people must know that they are welcome here, but also the wrong people must not know that queer people are welcome.”

Read More on Novastan: Queer life under pressure in Kyrgyzstan

Since the raid, Ailan Bar has closed its physical location and transitioned to a model where the organization pops up for one-time events across Kyrgyzstan. The bar’s organizers note that they feel safer in Kyrgyzstan’s more remote regions away from the state’s watch. 

PLUR has since taken on a new identity as QQ Bar and moved into a smaller space closer to the city center. Innokentii sees the move as an opportunity to learn from their past mistakes. “I want to make it stable enough to continue without me if I leave the country. I’m not from here—I don’t want to die here,” he says. Innokentii, like a large part of Bishkek’s contemporary techno community, came to Kyrgyzstan from Russia in recent years to flee war drafts. Helping to create spaces for electronic music in Bishkek helps him feel close to the subculture in his home country, a subculture that remains his central inspiration.

In order to ensure their subculture survives, Chyngyz has founded a DJ school within Ailan Collective to train and teach the next generation of Bishkek’s rebellious electronic music scene.

The Future for Bishkek Ravers

While law enforcement targeting youth subcultures is nothing new for Kyrgyzstan, those involved with Bishkek’s techno scene note that the current wave of repression feels different than those that have preceded it. “With the previous government, it is not right to categorize what we had as ‘freedom.’ We had negligence. We could only exist freely because the government didn’t care about us,” Chyngyz notes. “Now, authorities no longer turn a blind eye–they have a blueprint and they follow it. They’re populists, and populists have to show results in order to keep the people happy.”

After the raids, both bars saw their regular number of attendees dwindle. However, since the bars have implemented new strategies to prevent police altercations, they have largely been successful in fending off further government attacks. In just over a year and a half since the April raids, the crowds have largely returned. QQ Bar, even in their smaller venue, now sees over two hundred attendees at their most popular events. 

The techno community in Bishkek is as diverse as it is tight-knit. Chyngyz notes that he always finds it hard to describe the demographics of his crowd to others, as it spreads across every age group, profession, and walk of life. Innokentii, however, notes that there is one thread that unites all of their party participants. “Unlike techno scenes in larger cities, in Bishkek, everyone who comes is a character.”

With the survival of Bishkek’s techno institutions, the venues now serve as a cultural meeting point for the city’s other repressed creative communities. Innokentii notes that it is not an uncommon sight at QQ Bar to see people from Bishkek’s art industry, bar industry, rock scene, and rap underground all mixing freely.

Bishkek’s electronic music vanguard now sees their scene’s creativity and resilience as more than a local story. They have created something unique that they want to share with the world. While domestic challenges persist, few in Bishkek’s techno leadership appear ready to back down. “If you’re scared, you do it scared. So we do it scared,” Chyngyz remarked.

Chyngyz believes that the techno scene’s ability to adapt to evermounting challenges and unite diverse communities is not only what has led to the scene’s survival in Bishkek, but truly illuminates what the community is all about. “Techno is something that has the power to unite completely different people with completely unrelated backgrounds–people who maybe can’t even speak the same language. But they love techno, and enjoy the space it provides. Out of nothing, you create common ground.”

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Joseph Fisher for Novastan

The post “If You’re Scared, You do it Scared”: How Bishkek’s Techno Scene Survives State Repression appeared first on Novastan English.

Hidden behind a small door on a side street, the Gurminj Museum of Musical Instruments showcases the rich musical heritage of Tajikistan and Pamir. The impressive collection of instruments belonged to actor Gurminj Zafkibekov (1929–2003), who rose to fame in Soviet cinema in the 1970s. His son and the Pamiri music group Samo have since made this collection available to the public.

Credits : Pierre-Armand Dussex (https://nomadsland.travel/fr/before-you-go/blog/mon-beau-jailoo, Switzerland)

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This monument, located in the native city of Jizzakh, Uzbekistan, honors the renowned poets Hamid Olimjon and Zulfiya.

Depicted side by side, these iconic figures of Uzbek literature symbolize the union of poetry, culture, and the love of knowledge.

In the background, traditional architecture enhances the scene, blending history with literary heritage.

Credit: Hubert-Félix Delattre(France)

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In the Almaty region, the Soviet-era House of Culture stands as a fading gem. Erdar and Akmaral, its devoted caretakers guard its garden and history. They shared stories of this once-thriving village, a major corn producer for the USSR. The couple’s passion is tangible—Erdar proudly poses as if to say, “Without us, this would be gone.” Akmaral eagerly shows us the cracking interiors, where the theater hosted performances not long ago.

Crédit : Tommaso Aguzzi (@tomaguzzi, Italy)

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Everyone in Kyrgyzstan is looking forward to a warm and sunny spring after a long and cold winter. Nooruz marks the astronomical start of the spring, or spring equinox, when day and night even up and daylight time starts to grow. March 21st is full of different events, performances, and delicious food. Novastan interviewed Kyrgyz people to find out how Kyrgyzstan celebrates Nooruz.

On the 21st of March, Kyrgyz citizens are having a Nooruz (“noo” – new and “ruz” – day) celebration. Nooruz is an ancient national celebration of the spring equinox when the day and the night become equal. It is celebrated on the 21st of March and marks the beginning of the New Year and the renewal of nature in many cultures. 

Bazarkan

Neighbors usually organize events within their village. Bazarkan is a Kyrgyz teacher from a small village called “Jangarach”.

“Nowruz was a highly awaited holiday … My mother would sew new dresses and tebeteis (Kyrgyz national hats worn by girls) for me and my sister. Everyone would clean their houses and yards for the guests and cook a lot of delicious food to share with family and friends,” says Bazarkan.

Unlike the popular belief that Nooruz is about the awakening of nature and the coming of the New Year, Bazarkan grew up with a different opinion on the meaning of the holiday.

Read more on Novastan: Beyond fun and games – the politics of Nowruz

“Nooruz is all about friendship and community,” she says. The whole day is supposed to be spent having a good time by playing traditional Kyrgyz games, eating traditional food, singing, dancing, and chatting with the neighbors to establish a stronger bond with them. 

Nowadays her village does not celebrate this holiday as it used to. “It is becoming less popular to celebrate Nooruz,” says Bazarkan sadly. Today the elders of the village still try to organize some games and celebrations but fewer and fewer people are participating. “I think this is happening due to changes in people’s beliefs and religions,” she adds. 

Ruslan

Ruslan is a youth activist who involves foreigners and tourists in cultural games such as Kok-Boru. 

“I always follow the elders. To be honest, I don’t even know when Nooruz will be this year” says Ruslan. Growing up, he celebrated Nooruz in Ekaterinburg, Russia. Now that Ruslan moved back to Kyrgyzstan, he still celebrates it with his family. Unlike before, his whole family and relatives gather together to celebrate and eat traditional food – in Russia it used to be just him and his immediate family. 

When asked about the meaning of the holiday, Ruslan uncertainly says, “The beginning, right?” 

Sezim 

“We usually celebrate Nooruz at home, however not as large as the New Year. Although, Nooruz is our New Year” says Sezim. She shares that her family usually celebrates by cooking boorsoks (traditional Kyrgyz pastry), plov, and inviting their closest relatives. When Sezim used to be younger, she used to live in the Issyk-Kul region where every Nooruz would be celebrated by having a big fair, and she would even perform there sometimes as she used to attend musical school. 

Sezim sees Nooruz as a family holiday. Her favorite parts of the Holiday are the colorful traditional Kyrgyz clothing and rituals such as the burning of juniper which is supposed to clean the house and get rid of bad spirits. 

Kubanych

For local designers, Nooruz is more than just a national holiday. It is a chance to share their art with people.

The coming of spring is celebrated yearly in the Supara Ethno-complex with a lot of laughter and fun. Every Nooruz ethno-complex comes up with different programs. Guests can take part in traditional Kyrgyz games, learn how to work with clay, take a stroll around the museum that is located on the territory of the complex, and take a look at traditional Kyrgyz clothing. 

A couple of days before the big celebration, the staff prepares sumolok (a traditional dish prepared specifically for Nooruz), which all of the guests love. 

“This event is mainly organized to teach the young generation about Kyrgyz values and traditions,” says Kubanych, the organizer of the event. Kubanych also shares that throughout the years they have witnessed more young people attending the event dressed in traditional clothing.

Background

Kyrgyzstan has been an independent country for 31 years. However, Nooruz was celebrated in this region long before. Nooruz is considered a holiday with origins in Zoroastrianism and its roots go back to ancient times before the arrival of Islam to Kyrgyzstan.

Today this holiday is celebrated in large parts of the South Caucasus, Western Asia, and Southern and Central Asia, in countries such as Afghanistan, Albania, Azerbaijan, Iran, Iraq, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Mongolia, Tajikistan, Turkey, Turkmenistan, and some parts of Russia (Bashkortostan, Dagestan, Tatarstan).

All photos by Tasnim Azimova, unless indicated otherwise

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The post How is Kyrgyzstan celebrating Nooruz in 2024? appeared first on Novastan English.

Similar to last year, May 9 in Kazakhstan is overshadowed by Russia’s war in Ukraine. Military parades have been cancelled, once again. Instead, this year’s Victory Day will mainly be a day to remember Kazakhstan’s own participation in the Second World War. 

For the fifth year in a row, there will be no military parade in May – neither on Defender of the Fatherland Day on 7 May, nor on Victory Day on 9 May, when the end of the Second World War is commemorated in parts of the former Soviet Union. Official sources cite budget cuts as the main reason.

However, May 9 remains a public holiday. Instead of a parade, the Kazakh Ministry of Defence plans to hold “military-patriotic events” to honour individual members of the armed forces. Kazakh soldiers killed in the war will be commemorated in the media and at public events.

In the context of Russia’s military aggression against Ukraine, Victory Day has become increasingly politicised, as the memory of the Second World War is heavily instrumentalised by the Kremlin. As a result, attention has shifted to Kazakhstan’s own commemoration of its participation in the war.

Friend, foe, or neighbour?

Last April, when the Kazakh Ministry of Defence announced that there would be no military parades in May, Russian TV host and propagandist Tigran Keosayan condemned the “Kazakh brothers” for being “ungrateful”.

“We understand that this is not about money. Right now, celebrating Victory Day is a ‘friend-foe’ recognition sign,” Keosayan said in a video on his YouTube channel. He reminded his viewers of Russia’s “gratuitous help” to “save your power in Kazakhstan and end your chaos”, referring to the deployment of Collective Security Treaty Organisation troops in Kazakhstan to quell the protests of January 2022. In response to his thinly veiled threats, Kazakhstan’s foreign ministry declared Keosayan an undesirable person.

Read more on Novastan: “An escalating manifestation of Russophobia” – Kazakhstan at the epicentre of an information war

Many Kazakhstanis, including politicians, supported this decision. “We side with countries that believe that Russia is an aggressor against Ukraine. We are not your little brother, not a brotherly nation. We are neighbours. Neighbours should respect each other. If you don’t respect us, we won’t respect you,” replied blogger and activist Togzhan Qoyaliyeva in a video message.

Saving money or ones image?

In fact, Kazakhstan has held only two military parades in 32 years of independence, in 2013 and 2018. “The cost savings are a formal excuse that does not generate additional controversy,” political scientist Gaziz Abishev tells Novastan. In relation to the overall budget, he says, the savings are not all that significant. As Defence Minister Ruslan Jaqsylyqov told the local branch of the Russian medium Sputnik, one parade costs about 4 billion tenge, or just over 8 million euros.

“We believe that in this situation […] it is best to deal with combat readiness and training of the armed forces,” he said. A statement that, according to Abishev, does not, however, indicate the preparation of actual military actions. 

“Kazakhstan can rightfully call itself the victorious country of the Great Patriotic War and World War II. In 2023 (as well as in 2022), a military parade on May 9 […] against the backdrop of a bloody war between the two largest ethnic groups that won the war on the side of the Soviet Union can be considered inappropriate sabre-rattling,” Abishev explained on his Telegram channel. “The cancellation of the military parade is a kind of gesture of pacifism, a sign of protest against the war between [two of] the victorious nations.”

Read more on Novastan: Kazakhstan’s gradual divorce from Russia

At the same time, he added that the cancellation of the military parades does not mean that the holiday itself will be cancelled. Kazakhstan continues to cooperate with Moscow within the frameworks of the Eurasian Union and CSTO. In doing so, Astana strives towards breaking down trade barriers while aiding Russian businesses to circumvent sanctions. However, Kazakhstan is well aware of the risk of secondary sanctions by the West. That is why at the same time, the authorities try to distance themselves from the Kremlin, Abishev explained when asked by Novastan.

Supporting veterans

An integral part of Victory Day celebrations in many post-Soviet countries is honouring veterans. Between 1941 and 1945, more than 1.2 million Kazakhstanis were summoned to the front. Today there are only 222 war veterans alive, as well as 60 106 citizens who contributed to the victory in the Great Patriotic War, according to the news portal inform.kz.

Every year, the state increases veterans’ pensions and other social benefits, and pays a special allowance on Victory Day. This year, each war veteran is to receive no less than 1.5 million tenge (about 3 000 euros) from the state. Compared to other Central Asian countries, Kazakhstan offers the largest financial support for veterans.

In recent years, the so-called “Immortal Regiment” has become an integral part of Victory Day celebrations in Russia. This year, however, the event will be held in a different format because of security reasons, a co-organiser said. For instance, you can pin a veteran’s portrait on your car or on clothes. You could also change your avatar on your social networks, as well as tell friends and acquaintances about your heroes instead of bringing their photos on signboards to a march.

The Russian House in Almaty, one of the representative offices of the Russian International Cooperation Agency Rossotrudnichestvo, will also hold an “Immortal Regiment” rally online. Anyone can send information about “heroes” from their family to the Russian House email address by May 6, which will then publish the information via its social media on May 9.

Last year, the Kazakh government officially banned the “Immortal Regiment” march and proposed an online event instead. Representatives of veterans’ organisations proposed an analogous form of rally: “Batyrlarǵa taǵzym” (Kazakh for Bowing to the Heroes), carrying portraits of Kazakh war veterans. This initiative was immediately approved by the authorities.

This year, an online event called “Er esimi – el esinde” (Kazakh for: “The name of the hero in the nation’s memory”) was held. Kazakhstanis can share information about their ancestors who died in the Great Patriotic War and their heroic deeds on a specially created internet platform.

“Admittedly, the traditional form of the rally has always been fraught with certain risks for public safety,” said Murat Abdushkurov, chairman of the Almaty public association “Union of Veterans of the Afghanistan War”, at a press conference. In addition, street blockades in the centre of Almaty would cause inconvenience to residents.

A day of mourning and remembrance

Asem Zhapisheva, journalist and activist in the opposition movement “Oyan, Qazaqstan!” (Kazakh for: “Kazakhstan, wake up!”) is content with the government’s decision to scrap the parade for the fifth year in a row. “This is a very good decision, because the cult of militarism does not lead to anything good. Kazakhstan, with its multivectoral foreign policy, has no reason to show its teeth to the world, especially since we don’t have a big army either,” Zhapisheva said. “Victory Day should be celebrated as a day of mourning, a day of remembrance. War is not only about the dead soldiers, but also about the people who lost their loved ones and the people who lost their health on the labour front.”

Regarding the “Immortal Regiment”, the journalist commented that the Russian state had monopolised a seemingly good, private initiative and made it part of its propaganda machine in an endless war with the “West”. The “Batyrlarǵa taǵzym” action was also not unproblematic in that sense.

“Even when public associations act as organisers, it is still a state mandate, a lack of imagination. Our officials are constantly copying Russian decisions, from laws to public rallies. I believe that we should be independent of Russia. If it wasn’t copied by the Russian colleagues, I wouldn’t have any complaints,” Japisheva said.

For more news and analysis from Central Asia, follow us on Twitter, Facebook, Telegram, Linkedin or Instagram.

Written by Aizere Mailaisarova
From Almaty for Novastan.org

Translated by Anna Wilhelmi

Edited by Julian Postulart

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In Central Asia, the beginning of spring is traditionally marked by Nowruz, also known as ‘Persian New Year.’ Typical holiday celebrations include horse games, family visits, and large feasts. But Nowruz is not only fun and games. As political leaders seek to break with their countries’ colonial past, Nowruz remains a popular tool in the quest for regional identity.

A faint smell of grass in the air, blue skies yet barren trees. In the outskirts of Bishkek, hundreds of supporters cheer as twenty-some men on horseback compete over a goat carcass. The date is March 21, and it is the first day of spring, an occasion that is marked by a region-wide holiday known as Nowruz. But not all Nowruz celebrations are as spectacular as the traditional polo-like horse game Kok Boru played at the Bishkek hippodrome.

The lead up to Nowruz is possibly just as important as the holiday itself. Regional differences aside, most people in Central Asia start preparing for Nowruz with a spring cleaning of their homes. Others repay their debts or reconcile with enemies to start the new year with a clean slate. On Nowruz itself, the day of the spring equinox, people dress up and spend time with family, friends or neighbours. Food and drinks are especially important and, in most countries, a centuries-old tradition prescribes that ‘sumalak’ is made. This incredibly sweet dessert is made from sprouted wheat.

The Zoroastrian roots of Nowruz

But enough with the customs and traditions – Nowruz is not only fun and games. This holiday has a political element to it as well. In the past, different rulers and colonisers have tried to suppress Nowruz. To explore the modern-day politics of Nowruz, it is essential to delve deeper into its history. Nowruz is also called ‘Persian New Year,’ a name that reveals this holiday’s Iranian roots. Although the exact origin story of Nowruz remains shrouded in mystery, most historians agree that Zoroastrianism was the driving force behind it.

Zoroastrianism is the world’s oldest monotheistic religion and is based on the teachings of Zoroaster, an Iranian prophet. Central to this religion is the battle between Good and Evil, often framed in terms of light and darkness. In this regard, it is clear to see why Nowruz is so important to Zoroastrians, as the arrival of spring generally brings warmer weather and longer days. The Zoroastrian roots of Nowruz also explain the holiday’s popularity in Central Asia. Many experts claim that Zoroaster, the religion’s founder, was a native speaker of Avestan. This Persian dialect was predominant in an area stretching from eastern Iran to Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. In short, Zoroastrianism, with all its customs and traditions, has ancient roots in Central Asia and might even have originated there.

A quintessential Central Asian holiday

Yet, contemporary Nowruz celebrations in Central Asia are not the same as they were thousands of years ago. They have been shaped by the unique geography of the region, as well as the peoples that came to inhabit Central Asia as the result of migration, invasion and (forced) assimilation. Historically, Nowruz has been associated with Greater Iran. Since antiquity, cities like Samarkand and Bukhara had been important centres of Persian culture and language. Until this day, a majority of the people living in these two cities still speak the Tajik dialect of the Persian language. But with the Muslim conquest of Central Asia and the influx of Turkic and Mongol tribes from the north, this Persian cultural dominance started to wane.

Read more on Novastan: Four Central Asian cultural practices newly inscribed on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage List

With new rulers came new cultural influences. Some of these conquerors initially tried to suppress local customs and traditions like Nowruz. But neither Muslim leaders nor Turco-Mongol warlords such as Timur succeeded in abolishing ‘Persian New Year’. Instead, they embarked on a more successful approach of co-adaptation by integrating some of their own folklore into already existing cultural practices. That is why today, Nowruz in Central Asia is characterised by both nomadic traditions, such as Kok Boru, and Persian influences like the drinking of sumalak.

Colonisation and suppression

When the Russian imperial armies came to colonise Central Asia in the late 19th century, however, things changed. In modern-day Uzbekistan, the Russians had left the Emir of Bukhara as a local figurehead. To save face and strengthen his political legitimacy, the annual Nowruz celebrations were an excellent opportunity to show off. The emir even invited circus artists from European Russia to perform. But among the local population, popularity of Nowruz decreased. When the Soviets took over and annexed Central Asia after the Russian civil war, this trend continued. In the cities, Soviet engineers and urban planners redesigned public space, destroying centuries-old neighbourhoods in the process. This severely affected the social fabric of towns and cities throughout the region, hampering holiday preparations.

Read more on Novastan: “Hymns of Blood” – Tajik short stories from Perestroika

Moreover, during Soviet times, Nowruz was banned for years as it was seen as a religious holiday. Only after Soviet orientalists and ethnologists reframed it as pre-Islamic, celebrations were allowed once again. Especially since the collapse of the USSR, the popularity of Nowruz has increased spectacularly.

Nowruz as a political tool

Historically, Nowruz in Central Asia has always been subject to the political whims of local rulers. In the present day, this is no different. Nowruz encapsulates Central Asian histories, cultures, and geography. Hence, holidays like these can be instrumentalised by politicians and others who seek to break with the legacy of the Soviet-colonial past in a quest for regional and national identity. During the rule of late president Islam Karimov in Uzbekistan, for example, some government officials favoured Nowruz over Gregorian New Year. They even “issued instructions to stop holding end-of-year parties.” Holidays other than Nowruz were deemed “contrary to Uzbek culture.” Only after Karimov died and his successor President Shavkat Mirziyoyev took over in 2016, bans and constraints on celebrating Western-style New Year were relaxed.

Read more on Novastan: Central Asia and Russia: an ever-changing relationship

In Kazakhstan too, political leadership has rediscovered Nowruz as a way to strengthen legitimacy. In a move reminiscent of the Emir of Bukhara, current president Kassym-Jomart Tokayev has proposed several reforms with regard to Nowruz. These reforms include extending the national holiday to a whopping ten days instead of the usual four, as well as a proposal to deepen Nowruz’s spiritual and moral meaning. In 2022, Tokayev was re-elected president amid hopes and promises of political and societal reform. Some analysts argue that his plans are an attempt to break with the legacy of Tokayev’s predecessor, Nursultan Nazarbayev. But the low turnout of the recent parliamentary elections in Kazakhstan, just before Nowruz, illustrate that initial enthusiasm about reforms has somewhat subsided.

With deep historical roots in Central Asia, however, Nowruz is likely to remain a popular tool for identity politics as national leaders seek to navigate the future by cherry-picking from the region’s pre-colonial past.

Written by Julian Postulart

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The post Beyond fun and games – the politics of Nowruz appeared first on Novastan English.

A dancing mountain goat, a flowering garden of embroidery, a trickster’s tales, a silken thread spun from a worm’s cocoon – these are the diverse array of Central Asian cultural practices recently recognised by UNESCO as part of humanity’s intangible cultural heritage. Novastan takes a look at these four vibrant traditions, as well as considering where the List has its limits in truly celebrating the cultural diversity of Central Asia. Every year, a UNESCO committee inscribes cultural practices from around the globe into a List designed to showcase and safeguard traditions seen as universally significant. Intangible cultural heritage, according to UNESCO’s 2003 Convention, encompasses the practices, expressions, knowledge, and spaces which play an important part in a community’s cultural identity.

UNESCO’s List has long featured a rich variety of cultural practices from across the Central Asian countries, including Nowruz (New Year) celebrations, Tajik Chakan embroidery, and Turkmen carpet making. Among the eclectic group of traditions newly featured on the List this year – from Cuban rum mastery to the French baguette – are four cultural practices from Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan.

Orteke

A new entry on the list for Kazakhstan, Orteke is an indigenous performing art which brings a wooden puppet of a tauteke, or mountain goat, to life as it dances along to music. The tauteke puppet is attached to the surface of a drum by a metal rod, extending to a cord connected to the fingers of a musician playing a traditional two-stringed instrument, the dombyra.

As the player strums the strings, the tauteke puppet becomes animated, appearing to gallop along to the lively rhythms of the dombyra. However, true mastery of Orteke involves not only dictating the energetic pace of the tauteke’s dance, but also making the puppet move with grace – a feat some experts can achieve with as many as four puppets at a time. As playful as it is fascinating, Orteke appeals to adults and children alike and remains a core element of Kazakh folk heritage and intergenerational communication, maintained by the traditional Ustaz-Shakird (master-apprentice) teaching system and supported by educational institutions and competitions.

Turkmen-style needlework art

Described in Turkmen state news as capable of transforming anything into “flowering gardens and meadows” with merely a needle and thread, Turkmen-style needlework art is an elaborate type of embroidery popular across Turkmenistan and some regions of Iran. It is a defining feature of national dress for people of all genders and ages, used for occasions including weddings and Nowruz celebrations, as well as everyday items.

To begin the needlework, three thin silk threads are twisted together to form one shinier, sturdier thread. The needleworker then pierces the fabric with a thin needle and creates a series of loops with the silk, forming a distinctive pattern by holding the last loop with the thumb of the other hand before sewing the next. With colourful designs often showcasing needleworkers’ regional identities, the art form continues to be passed down within families and communities through generations of women needleworkers, while also remaining important in cultural and educational institutions.

Telling Tradition of Nasreddin Hodja/Molla Nesreddin/Molla Ependi/Apendi/Afendi Kozhanasyr

Centred around the telling of witty anecdotes associated with the wiseman and trickster Nasreddin, this variously named oral folklore tradition spans a vast region encompassing all Central Asian countries, as well as Turkey and Azerbaijan. The anecdotes are known for their shrewd commentaries on social norms and daily life, characterised by their punchy combination of wisdom, witticism, and surprise. In one anecdote, a shopkeeper angrily confronts Nasreddin for failing to pay his debt of 75 piastres. Nasreddin incredulously replies: “Now, now, you must know that I intend to pay you 35 piastres tomorrow, and next month another 35. That means I owe you only five piastres. Are you not ashamed of yourself for accosting me so loudly in public for a debt of only five piastres?” Read more on Novastan: “I want our theatre to be the new face of Tajik theatre”: Khurshed Mustafoev on the future of Dushanbe’s Russian theatre The anecdotes are drawn upon in daily conversation in communities across Central Asia, used for their instructive and entertaining qualities to strengthen arguments or enliven explanations.

Sericulture and traditional production of silk for weaving

Silk culture – encompassing an entire process from sericulture to the end silk products – is a major tradition of Central Asia, spanning centuries and giving the Silk Road its name. Inscribed in the UNESCO List as a practice of Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan (alongside Afghanistan, Azerbaijan, Iran, and Turkey), sericulture and traditional production of silk for weaving comprises multiple stages of the process for creating colourful fabrics and carpets. Farmers grow mulberry trees and feed the leaves to silkworms, from which the worms form cocoons of silken fibres. The fibres are reeled from the cocoons and spun into silk thread, before being cleaned, dyed, and woven into bright fabrics commonly seen at weddings and family occasions. Read more on Novastan: Tajikistan: Nine new sites on tentative World Heritage list Sericulture and silk production is still largely carried out by villagers and small private farms, also benefitting from government support in Turkmenistan and specialist teaching and research at higher education institutions in Uzbekistan.

Where UNESCO falls short: Uyghur culture

As is clear from this diverse group of Central Asian traditions, the UNESCO List raises awareness and mobilises much-needed support for diverse, often endangered, cultural practices. However, the List has faced criticism as a tool for obscuring the very cultural diversity that UNESCO purportedly seeks to celebrate. The inscription of Uyghur traditions in the List as practises of China is a case in point. Among the repressive actions by the Chinese government against Uyghurs is the destruction of the community’s culture – from banning the Uyghur language in schools to destroying religious sites. Attempts to erase Uyghur heritage have been reinforced by the UNESCO List’s inclusion of two Uyghur traditions – Meshrep, a rich event combining song, dance, and entertainment, and the Muqam song and dance tradition – via nominations by China. What has followed is the co-opting of the traditions by the Chinese government. As ethnomusicologist Rachel Harris explains, grassroots gatherings are banned in favour of “sanitised, commodified and secularised” renditions of the practises devoid of key religious and community aspects.

The UNESCO List showcases many Central Asian traditions in all their splendour. However, the manner of involvement allowed from China currently means that support for Uyghur cultural heritage is overshadowed by silence on its erasure.

Written by Emma Bain

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CENTRAL ASIAN CINEMA. Manastchy introduces us to the beauty and poetry of one of the maim Kyrgyz storytellers, Sayakbay Karalayev, and the mythical epic of Manas. This short film is one of the first works of Bolotbek Shamshiyev, one of the greatest Kyrgyz directors.

“Central Asian Cinema” is a series of collaborative articles written by different members of the Novastan team to share their favourite cinematographic moments about Central Asia. Each article describes a film produced or shot in Central Asia, available online.

The short film Manastchy (1965) is the graduation project of Kyrgyz director Bolotbek Shamshiyev (1941-2019), then a fresh graduate of the Gerasimov Institute of Cinematography in Moscow. The documentary is about Sayakbay Karalayev, probably the most famous “manastshi” in Kyrgyzstan.

Manastshis are the narrators of the Kyrgyz popular oral epic of Manas, the Kyrgyz hero. The film contains some unique recordings of this quasi-mystical poetry. At a time when Manas has become the fundamental symbol of the Kyrgyz culture, the movie does not lose its actuality.

For his work, Bolotbek Shamshiyev received the main prize at the International Short Film Festival in Oberhausen and subsequently became one of the most important directors of the so-called “golden era” of Kyrgyz cinema. The film is available on YouTube with English subtitles.

Read more on Novastan: The Wounded Angel: a dramatic and profound portrait of 1990s rural Kazakhstan

Share your Central Asian films: You want to react to this article, add something about this film (a link with or without subtitles), or share with Novastan and its readers another Central Asian film? Send us your review of the film (in a similar format to this article) to info@novastan.org. Thank you all!

Novastan Editorial Team

Translated for English by Shalom Gnassounou

Edited by Anna Wilhelmi

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CENTRAL ASIAN CINEMA. Jamila (1969) is the most famous film adaptation of Chingiz Aytmatov’s novel of the same name. The love story between Jamila and the injured ex-soldier Daniyar has become not only world literature, but also a classic of Central Asian cinema.“Central Asian Cinema” is a series of collaborative articles written by different members of the Novastan team to share their favourite cinematographic moments about Central Asia. Each article describes a film produced or shot in Central Asia, available online. Called by French writer Louis Aragon the “world’s most beautiful love story,”Jamila is probably the best-known work of Central Asian literature. The novel made Kyrgyz writer Chingiz Aitmatov famous overnight. In 1969, it was followed by Irina Poplavskaya’s film Jamila, the most successful film adaptation of Chingiz Aitmatov’s novel, in which the author himself is heard as narrator.

A love story during the Second World War

The film takes place in Kyrgyzstan during the Second World War: together with his sister-in-law Jamila, 15-year-old Seit must take the harvest to the train station every day because the men are at war. Jamila, the wife of Seit’s older brother Sadyk, joined the family only a few months earlier as the result of a bride kidnapping. The injured soldier Daniyar, who accompanies the pair on their trips to the train station, is initially mocked – until Jamila recognises the richness of Daniyar’s heart and falls in love with him. Together they flee the aul, the village.

Natalya Arinbasarova, who played Jamila in the film, probably influenced the image of Chingiz Aitmatov’s heroine we have today like no one else. A beautifully reproduced love story paired with magnificent landscape shots makes Poplavskaya’s Jamila a must-see. Read more on Novastan: The Wounded Angel: a dramatic and profound portrait of 1990s rural Kazakhstan Jamila is available (in Russian, with English subtitles) on YouTube. Share your Central Asian films: You want to react to this article, add something about this film (a link with or without subtitles), or share with Novastan and its readers another Central Asian film? Send us your review of the film (in a similar format to this article) to info@novastan.org. Thank you all!

Novastan Editorial Team

Translated for English by Lawrence Brown

Edited by Anna Wilhelmi 

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The post Jamila – the “world’s most beautiful love story” on film appeared first on Novastan English.

With her most recent documentary, Rhythms of Lost Time, Anisa Sabiri proposes a journey across the most remote regions of Tajikistan, home to the last vestiges of an ancient culture. In an exclusive interview, Novastan had the opportunity to discuss the film with its young Tajikistani director. This article was originally published on Novastan’s French website on 28 September 2021.“Someone said that traditions are like a thread of life carried across time, a link to our ancestors, a sort of code of communication between generations past and future.” With this opening sentence, the theme of the film is set. The 45-minute film was directed by Anisa Sabiri, a young director from Tajikistan. Like an ethnographic work, it captures life’s moments in the most remote areas of Tajikistan, “an unknown country with the fading embers of an ancient culture at its core.” The film was completed while the director was studying in London.

The short film is presented in the second Film Festival of the Calvert Journal in an online stream from 18 to 31 October 2021. The festival seeks to explore current issues relating to Europe, the East, and post-Soviet countries through the eyes of independent filmmakers.

In Search of Ancestral Traditions

Tajikistan is rich and complex in culture, with traditional practices going back to the Zoroastrian era. While some practices remain relatively untouched, others have adapted to some extent to the changing requirements of Soviet, Islamic, and capitalist influences. In the film, which emphasizes musical traditions, local experts and inhabitants of the most remote regions of the country talk about their customs. Music is present in all parts of life, from weddings and fire ceremonies to funerals. The life of these ancient people appears to have always been set to musical rhythms, and this documentary allows us to hear what that might have sounded like. https://vimeo.com/embed-redirect/326313281?embedded=true&source=video_title&owner=79782110 In response to a question from Novastan, Anisa Sabiri explains that this film arose out her own experiences. Before becoming a filmmaker, the young director worked as a tour guide for seven years, during which time she visited remote regions of Tajikistan and established links with local people. In this way, she witnessed unique customs and was moved by the deep philosophy of the culture. As a city dweller, Anisa Sabiri is not accustomed to isolated villages, but she fell under the spell of the strong rhythms of this culture, as if they were calling to her. She began to collect and explore ethnographic documents in order to better understand the context and meaning of these practices. Saddened by the danger posed to these traditions, she had the idea to start documenting them, long before picking up her camera.

Unique Practices and an Ethnographic Approach

Shooting took place in 2018 in regions that retained most of the ancient traditions, such as Zarafshan, Fergana Valley, and Badakhshan. In light of the mountainous geography of the area, the journey was not easy, but it was important for the director to “show that the traditional practices persisted, even in Sughd Region,” as Anisa Sabiri explained to Novastan. “Sadly, traditions have disappeared in this region because it is less isolated, and the influences of other cultures and globalization are strong there. So, it’s not that culture differs from one region to another, but rather the way each region reacts to new influences. And as traditional culture is faced with numerous threats, people are reluctant to perform certain traditions,” she lamented. To acquire access to funeral ceremonies in Badakhshan required her to forge trusting relationships with elders in the communities being filmed. “In some cases the success of the shoots depended on the support of the authorities, on communication with the local population, and on personal relationships I had made thanks to my cultural activist predecessors, writer, and tour guide. But, of course, there is always the next step of connecting with individuals and gaining their trust.” The director had to be sincere in her respect for local people and convey her passion for the preservation of their way of life.

On a journey into forgotten traditions, the director and her team transport viewers to the summits of Tajikistan’s mountains to discover maddo: ritual music played when inhabitants of Badakhshan bury their relatives. Here, villagers dance and sing during funerals, not only during weddings. One highlight of the film shows Panjakent in the western part of the country. Anisa Sabiri describes a very challenging moment to film: “What was most difficult was that the two camera operators were men and we had to film the part of the ceremony restricted to women. But the family allowed us to film, and at first we kept our distance. Later, I think everyone forgot we were there.” The situation probably would have gone differently in more conservative regions of Tajikistan, Anisa Sabiri added. Unique in its genre, this transcendent funeral music is particularly fascinating to British musician Leo Abrahams, who heard a recording of it several years ago. Struck by its unusual beauty, he traveled to Tajikistan to witness the enchanting musical experience for himself.

A Precious Heritage Constrained by a Restrictive Law

This film intends to send a clear message to the world: these traditions are now more threatened than ever. The film’s participants, musicians, and historians agree: “We have lost almost everything; we have lost 90% of our entire heritage,” confirms Gulomcho Safarov, one of the film’s protagonists. While the USSR also played its part in the disappearance of such traditions, today globalization and political–religious pressures are causing the last vestiges of this traditional culture to vanish. Since the end of the civil war in 1997, the local population has had to navigate between the rise of authoritarianism and cultural conservatism.

It’s been almost 15 years since Tajikistan’s population has been allowed to weep during funerals or organize a vigil for the deceased, never mind sing or dance. Since 2007, the Tajikistani government has decided what people can and can’t do during key life events and celebrations. The law concerning the regulation of traditions and rituals controls all popular rituals. Even though traditional funeral rites had become less and less common before the law’s adoption, it has played a significant role in their disappearance.

One Perspective on Tajikistan’s History

Anisa Sabiri was born in Tajikistan’s capital of Dushanbe in 1991, the same year an independent Tajikistan was created after the break-up of the USSR. This gives her a unique vision and approach to the history of her native country, motivating her to capture these endangered traditions that might not be transmitted to the next generation. As a young award-winning author, cultural activist, and photographer, she could not simply remain indifferent to history. The film’s premiere was held in the Tajikistani capital last May, according to Tajik media outlet Asia-Plus. The location was selected by the director due to the film’s main intention: to highlight traditional culture to the local population. The screening’s result was striking, with many viewers saying they had “the impression of having journeyed to another country,” and “they didn’t know these traditions existed,” according to the director.

Her previous film, The Crying of Tanbur, is about the civil war that formed the identities of Tajikistanis born since perestroika, or after 1991. In it she introduces the sound of a ritual musical instrument, the tanbur, “which weeps for the traumas of the new generation.” More widely, the work of Anisa Sabiri aims to better grasp Tajikistani identities, and in Rhythms of Lost Time she goes farther back into the past. The director hopes “to explore the progress the Tajikistani people have made up until now to continue the traditions.” For her, “traditions are the mind and body’s means of expressing identity. As we see in the film, our people have had to endure numerous cultural wars, and every one of them has affected our identity.” Speaking on her future projects, Anisa Sabiri would like to continue to make use of the 30 hours of video and audio collected for Rhythms of Lost Time. She is also working on a feature film set during the last days of the dissolution of the Soviet Union which follows the story of a young woman from a village who tries to liberate herself in the city, but encounters hardships because of her origins and the era’s chaos. Anisa Sabiri remains drawn to questions of identity, conflict, and borders: “I find this theme fascinating, close to my heart, and very timely. Given that I am a Tajik post-Soviet child, raised in a completely Russianized family, I myself also feel this inner-conflict.”

Anisa Sabiri hopes that Rhythms of Lost Time will increase awareness in Tajikistani people and help to create a new model which integrates lost practices into the modern world. One thing is certain: in Tajikistan music and dance have accompanied people in their joy and sorrow throughout centuries. Until a theatrical release in Tajikistan, this documentary is making the rounds in international film festivals such as the Film Festival of the Calvert Journal. It seems, however, that the most meaningful recognition awaits the filmmaker at home, where her fellow Tajikistanis will see the film.

Zoé De Nadaï Writer for Novastan

Translated from French by Judy Harter

Edited by Fiona Katherine Smith

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The post Looking for Rhythms of Lost Time, in Tajikistan appeared first on Novastan English.

In the far east of Turkey, not far from Lake Van, lies a small town called Ulupamir. Here 4,000 ethnic Kyrgyz maintain their cultural traditions and strive to preserve their connection to the Kyrgyz language.

This article is a translation of Как живут ванские кыргызыby which was originally published on Kloop.kg in November 2016. All photos were taken by Atilla Guven and are used with permission.

In 1978, the April (Saur) Revolution brought a Soviet-backed government to power in Afghanistan. This precursor to the Soviet-Afghan war prompted large numbers of the Pamir Kyrgyz community to leave their villages in Afghanistan’s Wakhan region and seek resettlement abroad.

The Pamir Kyrgyz first fled to Pakistan, but they were unaccustomed to the harsh, hot climate and soon sought to be resettled elsewhere. After an unsuccessful attempt to obtain American visas and move to Alaska, efforts by community leader Rahmankul Khan to find resettlement in another country paid off. In 1983, the Pamir Kyrgyz were accepted by Turkey and were provided with land in Van Province. The village of Ulupamir was founded soon after, and with it, the Van Kyrgyz community.

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Ulupamir resident Atilla Guven spoke to Kloop about the daily life of the Van Kyrgyz community while on a visit to Kyrgyzstan. The story hereafter is as told by Atilla Guven.

Around 4,000 Pamir Kyrgyz live in Turkey nowadays, approximately 3,000 of them in the Van region and 1,000 in Turkey’s bigger cities. There are 550 families in Ulupamir. The most elderly resident is 90 years old. The number of women and men is equal.

Learning to speak Kyrgyz is the most important issue for us. When Askar Akaev was the president of Kyrgyzstan there was an agreement that teachers from Kyrgyzstan would come to Turkey and teach us the Kyrgyz language. My brothers and sisters learned Kyrgyz in such a way. They were also taught Kyrgyz history and culture, and they in turn transferred that knowledge to their children. After Akaev stepped down as president, the agreement was terminated. Almost nobody speaks Kyrgyz now.

Some people think that they speak Kyrgyz, but they do not notice how similar Kyrgyz and Turkish are. They speak in Turkish but assure us that they are speaking Kyrgyz. People in the village now only learn Turkish. We hope that the Kyrgyz government will renew the previous agreement and help us preserve our language.

Read more on Novastan: More Russian passports, fewer labour migrants: Central Asian migration to Russia in 2020

In our village, we have one school with about 20 teachers. There is a hospital and a drugstore on the outskirts of town. Every resident has private transport to get to the hospital quickly in the case somebody gets sick.

I notice that many people compare us with the Pamir Kyrgyz and think that we also live in difficult conditions. The reality is the opposite. We live in good conditions; we are economically developed and we have state support.

There is no conflict between us and the Kurds. We seek to live quietly and peacefully. They, in turn, adhere to this principle.

We express our appreciation for state support by working as border guards and consequently maintaining stability in the village. As a rule, border guards live in one place for 10-15 years and earn 350-400 dollars per month in wages. A lot of people do not want to join the military; therefore, they move to big cities.

At the moment in Yozgat (a city in central Turkey) houses are being built specifically for the Van Kyrgyz. The houses will be leased for 10 years and about 100 families are now on the waiting list for housing. This is good news for us because we cannot afford to buy a flat in Istanbul or Ankara. The waiting list for housing includes not just people from Ulupamir but also the ethnic Kyrgyz who moved to Istanbul or Ankara.

The construction of houses for the ethnic Kyrgyz is an initiative of the Yozgat mayor. There are some plans to build a Kyrgyz cultural center, where monuments to Manas and Chinghiz Aitmatov will be erected.

When we arrived in Turkey, nobody was interested in us except for the mayor of Yozgat. He was the first who came to meet us. He mentioned during his visit that the Van Kyrgyz are close relatives of the Turks and that they must live in good conditions. If one compares the standard of living in Ulupamir with villages in Kyrgyzstan, the standard in Ulupamir will be higher. Turkey supports us constantly.

Read more on Novastan: Kyrgyzstan struggling to meet electricity demand this winter

Residents of Ulupamir are involved in cattle breeding and agriculture. Young people study, broaden their horizons. Those who do not study go to Istanbul or Ankara to earn money. They work seven or eight months and come back to the village when it is time to sow crops. Once the sowing is complete, they return to the cities. They generally work in leather manufacturing factories or factories that produce tea.

The young people who study in Istanbul or Ankara find love there and get married. Ten years ago, people in Ulupamir practiced their customs: nobody married strangers. I want to marry a Kyrgyz girl from Kyrgyzstan. I want my son to be Kyrgyz.

If one compares our traditions with Kyrgyz ones they will notice a lot of differences. In Kyrgyzstan, at the start of a meal, a sheep’s head is offered to the youngest person at the table, but in our village it is offered to the oldest one. We try to preserve traditions. We still play national games like Kok-Boru and Ordo Atysh.

There is a game where girls and boys divide into two teams and throw flour at each other. This game embodies purity and spiritual rapprochement. Guys and girls get to know each other through this game. Thus, fun contributes to the creation of new families and unites the residents.

If the Van Kyrgyz moved back to Kyrgyzstan, it would take a lot of time for them to get used to the different conditions, as economically our conditions are better in Turkey. We had a case where some Van Kyrgyz moved to Chong-Alay, became citizens of Kyrgyzstan, and lived there for ten years. But when their sons grew up, they returned to Van.

If members of our community manage to travel to Kyrgyzstan, they will definitely want to visit more than once. And those who cannot visit ask enthusiastically “how is it in Kyrgyzstan?” They ask if they would be accepted as Kyrgyz or if they would be called Turks. They want to know how they would be treated. Our elderly people want to visit Kyrgyzstan. They shed tears when they hear about it.

Written by Almir Almambetov for Kloop.kg
Photos by Atilla Guven

Translated from Russian by Aigeldi Eminova

Edited by Clare Hodgson

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The post From the high Pamirs to the shores of Lake Van: The tale of Turkey’s Kyrgyz community appeared first on Novastan English.

Tajikistan has submitted nine historical and cultural sites in the Zarafshan-Karakum corridor for inscription on UNESCO’s World Heritage list. Currently, two places in Tajikistan have received the full status.

This article was originally published on Novastan’s French website on 19 April 2021.

It’s another step towards international recognition of Tajikistan’s culture and history. On 13 April 2021, the Tajik ministry of culture published a list of sites newly included on a UNESCO tentative list, a first step towards inscription on the World Heritage List. The cultural and historical monuments were nominated by a committee of specialists from the Academy of Sciences of Tajikistan, the Ministry of Culture, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the National Commission for UNESCO in Tajikistan. They are all located in the Zarafshan – Karakum corridor, as UNESCO describes, dating the submission to 21 January.  

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The sites are located in the Sughd province, in the north of the country. They are the Khisorak settlement, the castle on Mount Mugh, the Kum settlement, the Gardani Khisor settlement, the Tali Khamtuda fortress, the mausoleum of Khoja Mukhammad Bashoro, the Toksankoriz irrigation system, the Sanjarshakh settlement and the town of the Ancient Penjikent. All of these are described in detail in the Tajik submission.

The inscription on this tentative list is the first step for these sites to become World Heritage sites if they meet one of the ten selection criteria. World Heritage status gives a landmark legal protection and international recognition. It enables a country to receive financial and material support for international bodies, but also helps advertise sites to tourists. So far, two places have been recognised in Tajikistan: the site of the pre-historic city of Sarazm,which celebrated its 5,500th anniversary in September 2020, was included in 2010 and the Tajik National Park in the Pamir Mountains in 2015.

Ambitions shared by Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan

The nomination is a recognition of Central Asia’s heritage. Indeed, the Zarafshan-Karakum corridor, bordered by the Zarafshan River and the Karakum Desert, encompasses three Central Asian states. Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan respectively have 15 and seven other sites in the area on the Tentative List.

In addition, the corridor is home to important excavation sites for archeologists. Their historical and cultural interest lies in the fact that the corridor was an integral part of the Silk Road, a historical network of trade routes spanning 6,500 kilometres between Europe and Asia.

For Mirzosharif Abdusalomov, national coordinator of material culture at UNESCO in Tajikistan, this potential recognition of the historical and cultural heritage of the Tajik people is far from insignificant. It could be a sign of “recognition by the international community of the Republic of Tajikistan as a country with its own culture and civilisation”, he said, as quoted by the Tajik media Asia-Plus.

Corentin Goupil
Novastan.org

Translated from French by Valentine Baldassari

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The post Tajikistan: Nine new sites on tentative World Heritage list appeared first on Novastan English.

In early 2021, Khurshed Mustafoev became artistic director of the Mayakovsky Theatre in Dushanbe. The actor, director and set designer has been working with the theatre company – the only Russian-language troupe in Tajikistan’s capital – for the past 20 years. He told Novastan about his plans for his new role.  

This article was originally published on Novastan’s French website on 8 March 2021.

It’s an important nomination for Tajikistan’s theatre scene. In early February 2021, Khurshed Mustafoev became the artistic director of the Mayakovsky Theatre in Dushanbe, the city’s only Russian-language theatre company. Since the demolition of its historic building in 2016, the company has been sharing premises with the Lokhuti Drama Theatre, also in Dushanbe.

Mustafoev has been part of the company since playing the title role in a 2001 production of Albert Camus’s Caligula. Since then, he has worked as an actor, director and set designer.

Novastan: Did you start your career as an actor, or were you both actor and director from the very beginning?

Khurshed Mustafoev: In 1995, after finishing school, I enrolled in the Tajik State Institute of Arts. I started working as an actor after getting my diploma. I started my career as a director a little later.

At first it was just an interest, I tried to realise my fantasies, then it became a real passion, and now it is a profession. Although I am not trained as a director.

Do you also design the sets for your productions?

I’ve always loved drawing. Before I started directing, I started trying my hand as an artist in productions. I would invent costumes and sets for shows. When I started directing my own productions, always made a point of doing the set design as well.

What are your goals for the Mayakovsky Theatre?

I have one goal: to find the type of theatre that is right for me. Although I have already formed my own style, which I am working on, I want to explore others, focus on one and take things farther in that direction, taking the theatre team with me. I want our theatre to be the new face of Tajik theatre!

The Mayakovsky Theatre’s latest productions are very modern, like its staging of Hamlet, for example.  This kind of staging is a new direction for Tajik theatre, do you think you will continue with this modern approach?

I love classical theater, but it is essential for me to work with it in a modern style. I like to mix classical and modern. And I think I will continue in this direction.

Your Hamlet toured in Russia. Do you think you will do other tours in Russian-speaking countries?

I think every creative person likes to go on tour. I want more countries to see our theatrical creations, I want them to get to know our country, our people, our culture. And I want to build relationships with artists from other countries. So we will tour with great pleasure. Of course, it doesn’t depend only on us. I hope we will be supported and travel more often. I would like to show our performances not only in Russian-speaking countries, but also in European and Asian countries, through tours or taking part in festivals.

Are you planning on alternating between productions in Russian and Persian?

I’ve done shows in several languages at once, with actors speaking two or three languages in the same production. Sometimes I have staged the same play in Russian and Persian at the same time. I like that. I think I will still stage shows in several languages. However, most productions will be in Russian, since the theatre is a Russian-language theatre. I like to create our eastern stories in Russian, it is both very poetic and unusual.

What authors and genres appeal to you most?

I like plays that touch me, the author is not important. The main thing is that the work is interesting. I really like it when I can project myself into plays, or feel a connection with them, then I am motivated to work on them.

You are currently putting on a play for children. What role will you give to children’s theatre?

It is not easy to direct shows for children. However, I love children and I often put on plays for them, with great care. Children cannot be fooled and they are difficult to convince.

I like colourful tales for children. In addition to theatre, I still work in schools, do theatre workshops with them, and it’s simply wonderful to work with children.

The Mayakovsky Theatre building was demolished in 2016. Will moving into new premises allow actors to work in better conditions?

In 2016, the building of our theatre and home was demolished and it was very painful for us. But we are working, continuing, creating and living. Soon we will have our new theatre, it is under construction. We are looking forward to the day when we will move in.

Which local or foreign cultural partners do you plan to work with?

We often work with the Bactria Cultural Centre and every year we stage plays by French authors during events related to French culture. And I really hope that our friendship and cooperation will go on for a long time. Of course, we would like to cooperate with many other organizations. I think they will also pay attention to us and we can work with them, develop our cooperation.

Interview by Amal Khanoum Gadjieva

Prepared by Christine Wystup

The post “I want our theatre to be the new face of Tajik theatre”: Khurshed Mustafoev on the future of Dushanbe’s Russian theatre appeared first on Novastan English.

CENTRAL ASIAN CINEMA. The film The Wounded Angel (2016) follows four adolescent boys in a rural village in mid-1990s Kazakhstan, each trying to come to terms with the lack of opportunities and injustices around them, leading to patterns of self-destructive behaviour.

“Central Asian Cinema” is a series of collaborative articles written by different members of the Novastan team to share their favourite cinematographic moments about Central Asia. Each article describes a film produced or shot in Central Asia which is available to watch online.

The Wounded Angel (2016) is a sparse, quiet film set in Kazakhstan in the years after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, when the country was spiralling into a deep economic crisis. This is the setting in which director Emir Baigazin weaves this slow-burn narrative about young men who are victims of the wider issues dominating their upbringing.

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The film is beautifully shot, making heavy use of lingering shots in darkened, empty rooms or the sepia-toned vastness of the Kazakh Steppe. The undeniably attractive visual aspect of The Wounded Angel does not overshadow the strange plot turns, drawn out through deliberately limited dialogue, and the emotional scenes contrasted to impressively stoic reactions.

The strength of Baigazin’s piece is what it illustrates about Kazakhstan’s post-Soviet identity. Through the four young protagonists, we see clearly the limitations of their home life, and can share their deep-seated desire to break free of the monotonous hopelessness of their village. Each story has overlap on this theme, but brings about a new dimension of Kazakhstani culture following the collapse of the USSR, including the exploration of petty crimes, the stigma of being an ex-prisoner, the practice of making money from selling scrap metal, and the pressures of obtaining education. Each plot carefully crafts the generational and cyclical nature of the poor choices made, often in haste or as a cry for help.

Read more: Igla: plunge into the underworld of Kazakhstan’s perestroika with the legendary Viktor Tsoi

Each vignette is thought-provoking in its own way, providing loose moral lessons with no fixed resolution for the protagonists. Through its use of close-ups and extended scenes, The Wounded Angel feels especially realistic, acting as a glimpse into a place which seems reflective of the real conditions of any rural setting in Central Asia at this time. Ultimately it is a film about graft, hardship and the often harsh reality of confronting one’s own dreams. Though difficult to watch at times and slow to develop, even grinding to an almost complete stop at times, The Wounded Angel is a truly profound addition to Kazakhstani cinema, and showcases human tragedy at this point of historical stagnation.

The Wounded Angel is available on MUBI with English subtitles.

Tommy Hodgson
Novastan.org

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The post The Wounded Angel: a dramatic and profound portrait of 1990s rural Kazakhstan appeared first on Novastan English.

CENTRAL ASIAN CINEMA. The rock-n-roll film Igla (The Needle in English) is a denunciation of the drug problem that plagued Soviet Central Asia in the late 1980s. But above all, it’s worth seeing for Soviet rock legend Viktor Tsoi, who dominates the film in the lead role, punctuating it with his music and his revolutionary spirit. It’s one of the most influential films of its time.

“Central Asian Cinema” is a series of collaborative articles written by different members of the Novastan team to share their favourite cinematographic moments about Central Asia. Each article describes a film produced or shot in Central Asia, which is available to watch online.

Igla (1988) is a cult classic in the former Soviet Union, as much for its soundtrack and star – the icon Viktor Tsoi, singer and front man of the group Kino – as for the film itself. Although strange at times, the feature film is an accurate representation of the intense artistic movements of the late 1980s in which Viktor Tsoi and his peers played an important role. The film mainly takes place in the city of Almaty (the then-capital of the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic), with some scenes shot on the shores of the Aral Sea, where boats already lay abandoned in the desert sand as a result of the ecological crisis that dried up the sea.

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The film centers around the problem of drug addiction which, at the time of the Soviet war in Afghanistan, wreaked havoc throughout the USSR. The problem was particularly serious in Central Asia, which was at the front line of both the war and of Afghan opium production. Igla is a film that bears witness to the social and political questions of the time. It’s not just a Soviet cult classic but a part of Central Asian cultural and artistic history.

The film is available on YouTube in Russian with English subtitles.

Translated from French by Alice Coveney

Edited by Clare Hodgson

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The post Igla: plunge into the underworld of Kazakhstan’s perestroika with the legendary Viktor Tsoi appeared first on Novastan English.

After a controversial comedy show on YouTube, Kyrgyzstan’s culture minister discussed stronger state control of musicians. Artists and parts of civil society reacted with indignation and criticised the lack of support for culture in the country.

This article was originally published on Novastan’s German website on 16 January 2021.

A group of comedians pokes fun at a guest. This format, known in stand-up circles as “roast”, has also become popular in Russian-speaking countries in recent years. A particularly successful example is the Internet show “Chto bylo dal’she” (“What happened next?”) whose videos have millions of viewers on YouTube. A recent attempt to introduce the format in Kyrgyzstan, however, ended in scandal.

After just two episodes, the show “V pi#du zvezdu” (which can be roughly translated as “F#ck the star”), hosted by the Kyrgyz pop singer Kural Chokoev, caused a stir on social media. The first guests were the former The Voice Russia finalist Kairat Primberdiev and the singer Kairat Kyrgyz. Some viewers saw in the show’s profanity and off-colour jokes a sign of “social degradation” and called for a boycott of its sponsors.

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In response to these critics, Chokoev decided to end the project and delete the recordings from his YouTube channel. “Your opinion is very important to me. If our videos and our content have hurt someone, of course we apologize,” he said in a video published on Instagram. Primberdiev also recorded an apology.

The government wants harsher laws

The scandal also reached the minister of culture, Nurjigit Kadyrbekov, who expressed his indignation at the show. “Unfortunately, the laws don’t provide any leverage against independent singers. But we will hopefully find a way to get them to act morally,” he announced on 9 January on the Ministry of Culture’s Facebook page. He also evoked measures against Chokoev and Primberdiev, including broadcast and concert bans for the two singers. As the online media Kloop.kg notes, these would be the first bans of this kind in the history of independent Kyrgyzstan.

Kadyrbekov also spoke out in favor of a fundamentally stronger state control of musicians: “It would not be bad to license singers for their work,” the minister said. “Otherwise, the ministry will keep being blamed for all the nonsense of whistlers and singers.”

Action followed. On 12 January, the Ministry of Culture said in a statement that it had revoked a cultural award granted to Chokoev in 2011 and suggested the presidential administration should take back the title of “honoured artist of the Kyrgyz Republic” given to Primberdiev in 2017. In addition, neither artist will be invited to any state-organized cultural events in the near future.  

Strong criticism from civil society

The minister’s words were met with strong criticism from civil society. In a public statement, the Committee for Civil Control, a non-governmental organisation, demanded Kadyrbekov’s resignation. “His words … are ominous, outrageous and unprecedented in terms of unlawfulness and unconstitutionality in the entire history of sovereign Kyrgyzstan,” the statement said, at the same time noting that Kyrgyzstan is bound by the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. “This threat is not only directed against the singers, but against each and every one of us.”

“Censorship is like poison gas: a powerful weapon that can injure you as soon as the wind changes its direction,” said lawyer Saniya Toktogazieva on Facebook. Everyone, she explains, can express their dissatisfaction with certain forms of expression, but such criticism must always consist in “more words, not silencing others”.

Media personalities and cultural workes also expressed their views, as reported by the online media Kaktus: “The show, of course, sucks. But if the Ministry of Culture even tries to withdraw Kairat and Kural’s awards, I will voluntarily return all my awards to the minister,” said the television presenter Erkin Ryskulbekov.

Little support for the arts in Kyrgyzstan

In fact, there has so far been little state intervention in Kyrgyzstan’s independent cultural scene. Beyond the funding of public institutions such as the Philharmonic, the Ministry of Culture actually plays almost no role, neither through restrictive measures nor through financial or material support. The exception is an article in the penal code on “inciting interethnic, racist, religious or interregional hostility” the authorities often use to take action against cultural content. For example, the blogger Elmirbek Sydymanov was arrested in 2017 for inciting interregional hostility after he said in an Instagram video that Kyrgyzstan’s southern regions were “not developed”.

In this way, Kyrgyzstan differs greatly from its Central Asian neighbours, who interfere more actively in cultural life. For example, Kazakhstan launched the Ruhany Jańyrý (“Spiritual Renewal”) program in 2017 to promote contemporary Kazakh culture. In Uzbekistan there has been a licensing system for pop musicians since the early 2000s, coordinated by the state agency O’zbekkontsert (“O’zbeknavo” before 2017).

With the state’s inaction in terms of cultural funding in mind, the reaction of Kyrgyzstan’s minister of culture seems inappropriate to some, to put it mildly. “Who paid for Kairat Primberdiev’s international trips when he praised our country? The Ministry of Culture? Of course not. Who invests in the work of our artists? The Ministry of Culture? NO,” commented the journalist Meerim Osmonova on Instagram.

“I’ve already had enough of the populists who come to power and make decisions for their own sake,” she added, probably in reference to the fact Kadyrbekov did not become minister of culture until October, when Sadyr Japarov became prime minister (he has since then been elected president). “Is mat [obscene or vulgar language in Russian] the biggest problem in our country? Perhaps the Ministry of Culture should deal with Sadyr’s fans, who use mat every other word, rather than our artists? “

 A “cultural revolution” in the making

The current legal situation in Kyrgyzstan provides for freedom of expression as a fundamental right and prohibits censorship of any kind. But that could change with the upcoming constitutional reform. The first draft of the new constitution foresaw a ban on content that “harms the morality and culture of the people of Kyrgyzstan“. After a referendum where voters chose to switch to a presidential rather than parliamentary form of government, constitutional reform is now planned for spring.

Read more on Novastan: Kyrgyzstan elects Sadyr Japarov and opts for presidential government

At the same time, the past few months have brought increasing politicisation in the country’s pop music. The Kyrgyz superstar Mirbek Atabekov, for example, was a prominent participant in protests last October where he spoke out in favour of a change in the political class alongside young activists. In the summer, Primberdiev also declared that he would no longer take part in political election campaigns: “I am ashamed of the fact that I used to perform at campaign concerts. I apologize to the Kyrgyz people.”   

According to Chokoev’s recent declaration, he also viewed “W pi#du zvezdu” as a socio-political act. “The main aim of the project was a desperate attempt to draw the attention of state bodies to the development of culture in our country,” he writes, pointing out that even the national epic, the Epic of Manas, is promoted by civil society and individual artists. Instead of a constructive discussion about the problem, the Ministry of Culture acted “by default” through penalties.

“I have a lot to say, a lot of suggestions and dreams! It cannot go on like this. I declare a CULTURAL REVOLUTION!” said Chokoev. “How often have I taken part in international competitions on my own and waved the flag for my Kyrgyz people alone! This project was a step that I had to take.”  

Read more on Novastan: Central Asian rap in 10 tracks

On 18 January, the State Awards Commission refused the Ministry of Culture’s application to revoke Primberdiev’s title of honoured artist of the Kyrgyz Republic, as Kloop.kg reports. There is “no legal basis for depriving the singer Kairat Primberdiev of his title” because he has not broken any law.

On the same day, Kadyrbekov invited the two singers to a meeting, the Ministry of Culture announced. In addition to the show, they discussed projects to promote Kyrgyz culture abroad “in a friendly atmosphere”.

Florian Coppenrath
Founder of Novastan Deutsch

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The post Kyrgyzstan: threat of censorship looms after controversial comedy show appeared first on Novastan English.

Hip hop, which appeared in America in the 1970s, has long since become a worldwide phenomenon adapting and evolving in each new environment. Central Asia is no exception, as a quick overview of rap music from the region reveals.

This article was originally published on Novastan’s German website in 2018.

According to Spotify, hip hop is the most popular music genre in the world. Although most of Central Asia is not yet covered by the Swedish streaming service, it does have very active and increasingly professional rap scenes. Some of these even enjoy great commercial success.

This is especially true for Kazakhstan, home to the largest music industry in the region. Kyrgyz rap has equally found its way to the forefront of local pop culture. In Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Turkmenistan, state control over the cultural sector is stronger, pushing local rap scenes either into conformity or to the margins.

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Central Asia’s widespread multilingualism is reflected in its rap. Russian-speaking artists still have the largest audience, yet most Central Asian rappers favour their national languages. But Central Asia’s rap scenes also differ in terms of their themes and social setting.

As an entry point, here are ten remarkable songs from all five Central Asian countries.

1.     Skriptonit – Style (Kazakhstan/Russia, 2015)

“One brother to my left, one to my right, I don’t call this “koresh” [Russian slang for a close friend] – because I’m from Pavlodar, if you remember”

With his atmospheric flow and lyrics from the world of a small town in northern Kazakhstan, Skriptonit – a stage name for the 27-year-old Ádil Jálelov – has long been one of the most popular rappers in Russia. But he likes to call his music “Kazakhstan rap”: “I am lucky that I come from Kazakhstan. I had little to do with Russian rappers and I don’t echo them,” he said in an interview with Russian journalist Ksenia Sobchak.

Skriptonit’s texts revolve around his experiences as a child and teenager in Kazakhstan’s Northern Pavlodar region. In Styl’, from his first album Dom s normalnimi yavleniyamy (“House of Normal Appearances”, an allusion to the Russian title of the US film A haunted House), he offers a portrait of his neighbourhood, “stinking of grass mixed with Hugo [Hugo Boss perfume]”.

Skriptonit achieved his breakthrough in 2013 with VBVVCTND (short for “Choice without options, all you gave us”). The words “look into the television, there you are like Alice in Wonderland” could be the song’s slogan. By signing a contract with the Russian label Gazgolder and moving to Moscow, he managed to jump down the rabbit hole.

2.     Baller – Armandar oryndalady (Kazakhstan, 2017)

“Dreams come true, if the goal is clear, if you have patience and faith”

If Skriptonit represents North Kazakh rap, Baller stands for the Southern side, or Shymside, as he would say himself. The 24-year-old artist comes from Shymkent, dubbed the “Texas of Kazakhstan” by Texas Monthly. His career began in 2008 when he became a member of the Shymkent label 11-Block. Unsurprisingly, one of his early pieces is dedicated to his hometown.

Baller raps mostly in Kazakh but also plays with Russian and English vocabulary in his lyrics, using the code-switching that is already common in rap. Today, he is one of the most popular rappers in Kazakhstan and even won the prize for best hip hop project at the Eurasian Music Awards 2017. Dreams come true, as he titled this song.

3.     Zamanbap – Ene Til (Kyrgyzstan, 2015)

“This piece belongs to me, to my mother, to all who understand it, to you…”

Two years ago, the Bishkek group Zamanbap (“Modern” in Kyrgyz) landed a minor hit with Ene til (“Mother tongue”), an ode to the Kyrgyz language. The three rappers Begish, Bayastan and Casper merge traditional Kyrgyz motifs with hip hop and a text calling for the appreciation of the Kyrgyz language.

Zamanbap’s musicians have all been in business for a good ten years and are now at the forefront of the rising Kyrgyz-language rap scene. Together with their Russian-speaking colleagues from Troeraznikh (“three different ones”), they recorded the theme song of the popular comedy series Jarayt City.

Zamanbap’s music is not just about using the Kyrgyz language, as the group emphasises in interviews: “Our mentality is not based on smoking weed and drinking alcohol etc., we write our tracks very differently than in America and other countries. This is our Kyrgyz rap”, Bayastan said in an interview with the channel Mosgi na Vynos. It’s family-friendly, completely in the sense of finding a Kyrgyz identity.

4.     7gen – 1916 (Kyrgyzstan, 2015)

“Under one sky, one unity, one way, in front of one tunduk, North and South be one!”

Kyrgyz-speaking rapper 7gen (Jetigen) raps predominantly about Kyrgyzstan, too. The song 1916 revolves around the uprisings of the inhabitants of Russian Central Asia against their entry into the First World War. This event, known as “urkun” (exodus) in Kyrgyz, was violently suppressed and led thousands of Kyrgyz into exile in China or Afghanistan, among other places. 2016 marked the 100th anniversary of the event – an opportunity to call on the Kyrgyz to unite beyond regional divisions.

The young rapper and graduate of the Kyrgyz-Turkish Manas University is the seventh child in his family and was also born in the seventh month of the year, the source of his stage name. He works with the production company 45 TV, one of the two strongholds of hip hop in Kyrgyzstan with TopTash.

7gen’s lyrics offer a wealth of references to Kyrgyzstan’s self-image: “My fatherland, my country is Kyrgyzstan/ If I look up to the sky, the stars give me hope,” says the song Dayar Bol (“Be Ready”), which opens the album Kyrgyz bol (“Be Kyrgyz”) and addresses the social injustices and divisions of society.

5.     Shoxrux – Hayolimdasan (Uzbekistan, 2005)

“Every day, my love / Every night, my love, / You are always in my dreams, my love”

Shoxrux almost belongs to the senior generation of Central Asian rappers. He first gained notoriety in Uzbekistan in 2004 with a video clip that was distributed on television. The two albums Balandda (“In the heights”) and Bolaligim (“My Youth”) followed, before he took a break in 2007. The love song Hayolimdasan (“You are in my dreams”) is the 7th track on Balandda.

For the past few years, the now 31-year-old artist has been active again. Breaches of social taboos, often associated with rap, are hardly ever found in his songs. On his Instagram profile, Shoxrux first introduces himself as a member of the ruling “Liberal Democratic” party of Uzbekistan.

6.     Konsta – Blabla (Uzbekistan, 2017)

“I woke up early in a bar, and I understood there is no paradise here”

Konsta is stylistically more akin to contemporary US rap than to traditional Uzbek music. The young artist from Guliston began his musical career in 2009 as a student. He wrote his first track T.B.U.K.K. in Russian. Since then, he has refined his art between his stays in Moscow and Uzbekistan and writes most of his songs in Uzbek.

Konsta’s video BlaBla was released shortly before the end of 2017. Against the backdrop of the Azerbaijani capital Baku, it talks about his artistic career and the difficulties he has in making his way abroad. “If you want to make it here, you need good contacts. Whoever looks for work here does it again and again,” he says a little further in the lyrics. Possibly an allusion to the almost two million Uzbeks who earn their money in Russia.

7.     Master Ismail/ M.One – Assalom Alaykum (Tajikistan, 2017)

“I make Tajik rap like Tupac”

Master Ismail has been rapping since 1999 and is one of Tajikistan’s most famous rappers. He built his career between Tajikistan and Russia, where he spent two to six months every year. His songs are written partly in Russian and partly in Tajik.

At the beginning of the 2010s, Asia Plus counted Master Ismail among the regime-critical rappers in Tajikistan. In the Russian-language piece Goodbye Rahmon, for example, he focused on corruption and the poor economic situation that drives many young Tajiks abroad. Like many of his colleagues, however, pressure from the authorities led him to a U-turn. As a result, in his more recent works, he has polished the production but the lyrics have lost their political sharpness.

In Assalom Alaykum, with a greeting “to all at home and abroad,” Master Ismail introduces another patriotic song about his homeland, “watan” in Tajik, a word he repeats like a leitmotif. No matter how much he has travelled around, the rapper is always drawn back to Tajikistan, and more precisely to Dushanbe, the “best city in the world”, as he points out in Ponedelnik (“Monday” in Russian, an allusion to the meaning of ‘Dushanbe’ in Tajik).

8.     Bacha84 – Tok’i Todshiki (Tajikistan, 2012)

“Tok’i is the secret”

Bachtior Kosimov’s stage name Bacha84 is derived from his place of residence, the microdistrict no 84 in Dushanbe. The 29-year-old artist began his music career in 2002 with a piece he sang for KVN, a comedy competition dating back to Soviet times. As he told VIPZoneOnline in an interview, his mother, who worked for an international organisation, sparked his interest in rap.

Bacha is best known for his love songs. Pieces like In oschiki Todschiki (“This is Being in Love”) or Dili Dewona (“Crazy Heart”) were played in all of the country’s taxis in their day. In Tok’i Todshiki (“Tajik Tok’i”, referring to the tok’i, a traditional Tajik skullcap) he tells the listener how much he is attached to his tok’i, which he would not take off even if Jennifer Lopez asked him to. In addition to the obligatory patriotic pieces, Bacha84 touches on social themes, and a social café recently opened in Dushanbe bears the name of his piece Dar jak samin (on one world).

9.     Godek, Vagrant, Zumer & BlackShadow – Demir Tiken (Turkmenistan, 2012)

“I grew up very fast, time has taught me, I learnt courage and zeal”

Turkmenistan’s rap scene is without doubt the least known in Central Asia. Hip hop culture fits badly into the stereotypical image of an all-powerful totalitarian state. A “Khan” wrote on the now inactive citizen media NewEurasia a few years ago: “The outside world thinks we Turkmen live in constant fear of our government. Not quite, many of us don’t even realize that something is wrong. No, mostly we are just bored … The young generation really has nothing to do. That’s why they love hip hop.”

According to Khan, Turkmen hip hop can be traced back to 2000. But it wasn’t until Zumer that the scene really took off. The rapper, who studied at a Turkish university and spends a lot of time in Turkey, is considered the father of Turkmen rap. With his group Darkroom Posse, he represents the Turkmen West Side, or Balkan Side.

Zumer’s hometown Turkmenbashi is the subject of the song Demir Tiken (“Barbed Wire”), a thoughtful piece about youth on the streets of the “dark paradise”, as he calls the city. “My legs are caught in this barbed wire” – a metaphor for the lessons of the street.

10.     Ulykazy – Ekskurs (Turkmenistan, 2015)

“I don’t remember how many women I had, sometimes I meet one of them on the street, and life reminds me of the past”

Turkmen rap is developing not only in Turkmenbashi and Ashgabat but also abroad. This is especially true in Turkey, which is linguistically close and which Turkmen citizens can enter without a visa. There are also local rap communities and concerts in Turkmen in Russia.

In Eskurs, the rapper Ulykazy, who like Zumer is from Turkmenbashi and born in 1988, gives listeners an excursion through his love life. He recorded his clip abroad, too, in the Belarusian capital Minsk.

Bonus Track: Jokeasses – ZYN ZYN (Kazakhstan, 2017)

“White T-shirt, cool glasses…”

Zyn Zyn by Youtuber collective Jokeasses from Almaty (Kazakhstan) breaks records. The song attracted over 14 million views on YouTube in three months. Written in a mixture of Kazakh and Russian, interspersed with anglicisms and name-dropping from pop culture, (“Here and There, Tom & Jerry, Katy Perry, Jim Carrey”) it’s a colourful rap parody, and a real catchy tune…

Florian Coppenrath

Translated by Magnus Obermann

The post Central Asian rap in 10 tracks appeared first on Novastan English.