Reviving the Games of the Steppe
As the final arrow of the World Nomad Games is fired in Kazakhstan’s capital, we explore a nation balancing its nomadic roots with a fast-evolving future
Words & Photographs George Kipouros
Dust swirled as teams of horses thundered across the steppe, their riders engaged in a fierce contest of strength and skill. Around them, the air crackled with more than just adrenaline; it was the sense of something ancient being brought back to life.
I was watching a game of kokpar, a sport that stems from the nomadic tradition of Central Asia, in which riders gallop at full tilt while battling for control of a dummy goat carcass. It’s rugby meets polo; a true test of endurance; and, as I discovered, not for the faint-hearted.
Tension filled the air as the teams from Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan faced off. The thunder of hooves echoed as the former raced the carcass over the scoring line time and again for a home win, to the roar of the crowd.
“The horse was domesticated here on the Kazakh steppe more than 5,000 years ago,” said Yelmira, my local guide, hinting with a tinge of pride that the preternatural skill of the players had been a long time in the making.
A kokpar match – one of the oldest nomadic games in Kazakhstan – takes place beneath the 130m-high minarets of the Astana Grand Mosque
A kokpar match – one of the oldest nomadic games in Kazakhstan – takes place beneath the 130m-high minarets of the Astana Grand Mosque
Above us, an arrow display sliced through the sky, tracing arcs reminiscent of the paths once travelled by the nomads who ruled these lands. This was the start Kazakhstan had hoped for, as it welcomed athletes and spectators to capital Astana this past September for the World Nomad Games, a sporting event unlike any other.
The Games are a celebration of ancient traditions, where sports such as zhamby atu (horseback archery), bürküt salu (eagle hunting) and er enish (horseback wrestling) take centre stage. It’s a reminder of the shared heritage that once united the nomadic peoples of the Great Steppe, and its fifth edition saw some 2,500 athletes from 89 countries gather for the “Nomad Olympics”.
For me, the Games were an opportunity to discover seldom-visited Kazakhstan – the world’s ninth-largest country – and to explore the legacy of its nomads against a backdrop of rapid modern development.
“The Games revive lost traditions, helping our people to reconnect with their roots”
The night before, I had attended the opening ceremony of the Games, which featured a patriotic tribute to Kazakh history – from the ancient Scythians to the rise of the Kazakh Khanate along the Silk Road. Yelmira filled in the gaps with stories of the country’s modern history, including its Soviet era and Stalin’s policy of land collectivisation in the 1930s, which forced the nomads into collective farms, eventually leading to famine and the collapse of nomadic life in Kazakhstan.
“These games revive lost traditions, helping our people, especially the youth, to reconnect with their roots,” Yelmira explained.
To further help their cause, the organisers set up an ‘Ethno-village’, a festival-like area made up of dozens of showcase yurts – the portable dwellings used by nomadic cultures across Central Asia. Locals from all corners of Kazakhstan had gathered, many in traditional costume, each showcasing their region’s sights, tastes and crafts. It was my first contact with the country’s surprisingly rich tapestry of cultures, languages and faiths.
Horseback archery is one of the more dramatic competitions at the World Nomad Games
Horseback archery is one of the more dramatic competitions at the World Nomad Games
“The nomads of the steppe were not just herders and warriors; they were the bridge between East and West, connecting civilisations,” explained Yelmira. This role, as a cultural and geographical crossroads, is something Kazakhstan aspires to embrace today, as a country that spans both Europe and Central Asia.
“I like to compare Kazakhs to (US) Americans: we’re all Kazakhs, but we come from many Tribes. It wasn’t until the 14th century that Kazakhs united under one identity and the term ‘Kazakh’ truly gained its meaning,” Yelmira shared.
“Even today, when Kazakhs meet, we ask: ‘Which Tribe are you from?’”
This Tribal diversity is echoed in Kazakhstan’s religious identity. Officially, roughly 70% of the country’s 20 million people identify as Muslim, while 20% are Christian. However, Yelmira highlighted that religion in Kazakhstan is often more cultural than strictly practised. “I am Muslim, but in my family only my uncle is a practising Muslim,” she told me.
I found this blend of secularism and religious tradition reflected throughout the country, where mosques stand alongside Orthodox churches, and traces of nomadic animism remain embedded in everyday life.
The new capital
After a couple of days spent immersing myself in the Games, I was eager to explore the host city, Astana. This largely purpose-built metropolis was named the capital in 1997, back when it was still known as Akmola; it was rechristened Astana (meaning ‘capital city’ in Kazakh) the following year. To me, its gleaming skyscrapers and futuristic architecture felt almost out of place against the vast, empty plains that stretched endlessly around it.
Yelmira and I started our exploration along the Millennium Line, a symbolic geographical axis running through the heart of the city, connecting its eastern and western districts. She explained that this axis symbolises Kazakhstan’s unique position as a cultural crossroads.
Each floor of the Museum of Future Energy is dedicated to a different alternative power
Each floor of the Museum of Future Energy is dedicated to a different alternative power
“Astana isn’t just a city; it represents Kazakhstan’s role as a bridge between cultures,” she said.
As we wandered, I couldn’t help but reflect on how the city’s futuristic structures embodied this fusion of influences. We made our way to the Khan Shatyr, a massive, tent-like building designed by Sir Norman Foster. Yelmira pointed out that this is the world’s largest tent, housing a shopping mall, entertainment venues and even a beach created with sand imported from the Maldives.
“It’s surreal, isn’t it?” she laughed. “Inside, it’s a tropical paradise; outside, the cold winds of the steppe continue to blow.”
“I think it feels rather Dubai-esque,” I mused, still grappling with the contrast.
“But all our new monumental buildings are inspired by our traditions,” Yelmira countered. “There’s nomadic and Kazakh symbolism in all of them. The tent of Khan Shatyr represents our kiyiz ui (yurt).”
Astana’s Khan Satyr tent, which houses a shopping complex and entertainment centre, tops 150m when measured to the tip of its spire
Astana’s Khan Satyr tent, which houses a shopping complex and entertainment centre, tops 150m when measured to the tip of its spire
To underscore her point, we visited the city’s iconic Bayterek Tower, known to locals as the ‘Lollipop Tower’. This structure, topped with a glistening globe, symbolises the Tree of Life, the traditional Kazakh emblem of prosperity and peace, on which Samruk, the holy bird of happiness, was said to have laid her golden egg. It was another vision of Astana’s architectural duality: an effort by modern starchitects to create a unique identity for the country’s capital.
We finished our visit at the Museum of Future Energy, housed in a striking spherical building. The museum’s interactive exhibits explore renewable energy sources like wind, solar and water. Noticeably absent was any mention of the oil and gas industries that have driven Kazakhstan’s economic rise since its independence in 1991.
I left Astana curious as to what became of Kazakhstan’s former capital, the city that it felt the need to leave behind to write itself a whole new story.
The birthplace of apples
If Astana is the heart of Kazakhstan’s political and economic power, Almaty – its capital between 1929 and 1997 – is its cultural soul. Nestled against the dramatic Ile Alatau Mountains, it feels worlds apart from the flat, endless steppe of the northern regions.
The air away from Almaty’s traffic-clogged streets was fragrant with the scent of blooming apple trees. I soon found out why, as my guide, Dina, led me to the pedestrianised shopping street Zhybek Zholy.
“It means ‘Silk Road’, because this area was part of the ancient trading network for centuries,” she explained as we strolled.
The traditional wooden architecture of Almaty
The traditional wooden architecture of Almaty
I observed just how many of the street stalls were brimming with apples. “The fruit originally comes from this region,” Dina told me, noting that the name ‘Almaty’ likely derives from the Kazakh word for apple. “This area is considered the birthplace of the apple, and thanks to trade routes like the Silk Road, it spread across the world!” She handed me a sweet, aromatic Aport apple, a local variety.
As we explored the city centre, its Soviet-style Brutalist buildings were punctuated by the colourful charm of Almaty’s wooden architecture: a blend of local tradition and the Russian influence of the late-19th and early-20th centuries.
“This wooden architecture is not just part of the city’s past,” Dina explained. “It’s a symbol of its resilience. The wooden structures are flexible; they sway with the earth, making them ideal for a city like Almaty, which is prone to earthquakes.”
"This wooden architecture is not just part of the city’s past... it's a symbol of its resilience"
She led me to Ascension Cathedral in the central park, one of the finest wooden structures from that era. Inaugurated in 1907, when the city was still under Russian Tsarist rule, it was reputedly constructed without a single metal nail and remains one of the tallest wooden buildings in the world. This multi-coloured Russian Orthodox cathedral resembled something from a fairy tale, with its gold-tipped spires and intricate detailing gleaming in the sunlight. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in Moscow’s Kremlin or beside St Petersburg’s Hermitage Palace.
Just a few minutes away, the Central Mosque, completed in 1999, testified to the religious diversity of a country where Islam, Christianity and remnants of the animist beliefs of the nomads still coexist.
“Almaty has always been a melting pot, especially during Soviet times, when intellectuals and dissidents from across the USSR were exiled here,” Dina said. This influx of people shaped Almaty’s cosmopolitan atmosphere, a vibe still felt today.
The city’s cathedral was reputedly built without using a single metal nail in a design created to weather the earthquakes that afflict the region
The city’s cathedral was reputedly built without using a single metal nail in a design created to weather the earthquakes that afflict the region
Almaty’s multiculturalism is best savoured through its culinary scene, spanning more than 2,000 restaurants and a diverse range of flavours. From traditional Kazakh nomad dishes to Russian classics, Uyghur specialties, Tatar staples and Korean delicacies, the city’s food reflects the blend of cultures that call Almaty home. Yet, despite this diversity, one thing remains constant: the centrality of meat in local cooking.
Beshbarmak, the national dish, is a perfect example of the country’s meat fixation. Made from boiled horse served over thin slices of dough, it highlights how horse meat, in particular, is woven into the fabric of Kazakh culinary tradition. It’s found in everything from burgers to stuffed noodles, making it a unique – and sometimes challenging – aspect of dining here for those unaccustomed to the sight.
Landscapes from around the world
It wasn’t long before the wilderness I’d seen in the distance lured me away from the city. Barely an hour from Almaty, the urban landscape gave way to the vast Yellow Steppe; however, my true destination lay further, as Dina and I ascended into the Tien Shan Mountains.
Here lay the entrance to Kolsay Lakes National Park, where the terrain transitions into the perfect alpine scene of towering peaks, dense pine forests and steep valleys. We soon arrived at Lower Kolsay Lake, and I felt as if I was gazing at a mini version of Canada’s Lake Louise, except with the added bonus of near solitude.
The diverse beauty of Kazakhstan's hinterlands is astounding
The diverse beauty of Kazakhstan's hinterlands is astounding
The lake stretched out like a mirror, its surface undisturbed, reflecting the towering, spruce-covered mountains standing sentinel along its shores. This is just one of the three main lakes in the area, but it is the only one that is easily accessed. The second requires a few hours’ hike, while the third is a challenge reserved only for experienced mountaineers.
The next day, we ventured to a completely different landscape, despite it being just an hour away. Charyn Canyon is often dubbed ‘Kazakhstan’s Grand Canyon’ and stands in stark contrast to the alpine forests of Kolsay. Here I was met with towering red cliffs and a gorge that plunges to around 300m at its lowest point and spans more than 150km. The canyon’s jagged faces, weathered by time, looked like fortresses crafted by giants.
The Valley of Castles, Charyn Canyon’s most famous feature, lived up to its name. Hiking along the canyon’s edge offered sweeping panoramas of rock formations sculpted by nature into turrets and towers, standing proudly against the endless steppe.
“I felt as if I was gazing at a mini version of Canada’s Lake Louise”
As the sun moved across the sky, the canyon’s vibrant colours came to life, shifting from fiery reds and oranges in the morning to deep purples and blues by afternoon. The silence here felt different from the serene quiet of Kolsay Lake; it was ancient, more profound, as though the rocks themselves whispered the stories of the nomads who once roamed these lands.
Before leaving the park, we visited nearby Moon Valley and Black Canyon. Though part of the same canyon system, these areas presented yet another dramatic shift in the landscape, one that is more reminiscent of Iceland’s Fjaðrárgljúfur, dominated by green hills and a powerful river cutting through the valley below.
My final stop was one of Kazakhstan’s most surreal natural wonders: Kaindy Lake. The journey there was an adventure in itself, as the unpaved road wound through the rugged foothills of the Tien Shan Mountains, each bend revealing new vistas of untouched wilderness. En route, we passed through several villages, where I was surprised to see yurts scattered amid the traditional houses. Dina explained that many young Kazakh families had begun embracing a partial return to the traditional ways of living, even if only for the summer.
Kaindy Lake, formed after an earthquake in 1911 triggered a landslide that dammed the valley, is one of the world’s most photogenic bodies of water. Its crystal-clear depths are surrounded by towering evergreens, but what makes it unique are the submerged trees, their skeletal trunks still protruding from the water like the spires of yurts reaching skyward. These ghostly remnants of a once-thriving forest stand as a haunting reminder of nature’s power, frozen in time.
Kaindy Lake's ghostly underwater forest
Kaindy Lake's ghostly underwater forest
As we began our journey back to Almaty, I remarked that Kaindy reminded me of a lake in the Austrian Alps. Dina, perhaps a little tired of my comparisons, corrected me with a smile: “But no other lake in the world has a submerged forest still visible like this.”
In truth, it’s hard not to draw comparisons here. So little of what I saw was familiar, and I was often left grabbing at similes to express my genuine astonishment at the diversity of people, faiths and geographies I had encountered during my brief week in the country.
As I took one last look at the Tien Shan Mountains fading into the distance, it became clear that Kazakhstan, with its vast and varied landscapes, had revealed only a fraction of itself. The World Nomad Games offered a glimpse into its traditions, but this was just one thread in the fabric of one of the largest countries in the world.
The sheer scale of Kazakhstan mirrors the depth of the history found here, where a nomadic past goes hand in hand with rapid growth. The spirit of the land endures, carried by the same winds that once guided its nomads. Yet, even today, their journeys still echo through the vast plains, inviting ever deeper exploration.
Need to know
When to go
Year round, but try to avoid the summer heat of July and August and the piercing cold that arrives from December to March.
Getting there & around
Air Astana has the only daily direct flights to Almaty from London Heathrow (with a short stop in Aktau), as well as an extensive internal network that includes Astana. Flights take 8 hours and 15 minutes. Kazakhstan is best explored with a guide and driver, as English is not yet widely spoken.
Carbon offset
A return flight from London to Almaty produces 696 kg of carbon per passenger. Wanderlust encourages you to offset your travel footprint through a reputable provider. Learn more here.
Where to stay
Almaty and Astana offer a plethora of good hotels; beyond these, local guesthouses may be your only options. For a full list, visit the country’s official travel website.
About the trip
The author travelled with Wild Frontiers, which offers a ten-day group tour across the Kazakh Steppe, that takes in Almaty, Astana, Charyn Canyon, Lake Kaindy and Turkestan. Includes accommodation and most meals, guided excursions and transfers.
Lower Kolsay
Lower Kolsay
Traditional archery
Traditional archery
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