To get a close look at the traditional lifestyle of the Tuvans, a people who have been nomadic throughout their history, I visited a nomadic oba (camp). In this particular oba, called “Kara Çıraa”, a large family lives in the yurts, and they keep various animals. A yurt is the general name for the large tents nomads use across Central Asia. These tents are round and portable, constructed by covering a collapsible wooden lattice with felt and hides. The roof consists of long, slender wooden poles resting on the lattice, and in the center, there is a circular air opening that can be opened when needed. The Tuvans adjust the walls depending on the season: in summer, they raise them to protect against rain, while in winter, they lower them to make the tent warmer and more durable.

Kara Çıraa

The “Kara Çıraa” oba is located about 50 km from the city center of Kyzyl. The family who lives here used to migrate elsewhere in summer and return in winter, but recently they decided to stay year-round to host visitors. There are no other settlements visible near the oba, which sits amid vast steppe and distant mountains. The family keeps sheep, goats, pigs, cows, dogs, and horses, sustaining themselves through animal husbandry and by welcoming visitors curious to see their yurts.

We set off from Kyzyl in a small group, driving to the oba. The Toyota we were in had the steering wheel on the right side. In Tuva, some cars are right-hand drive, some left-hand drive, and cars are extremely valuable. Renting a car is not an option; there’s simply no system for that. Within the city, there is public transportation and taxis, but for locations outside the city, you need to arrange a ride with someone who owns a car. Traffic moves normally on the right.

After driving across the endless steppe for a while, we turned onto a dirt road. At the end of the road, we arrived at the oba, where we were greeted by two young sisters, Agatha and Angelica, and their grandmother, Larissa. Stepping into their world was enchanting: sheep resting on the pasture, piglets chasing each other, two beautiful horses moving with noble grace, and smoke rising from the chimney of the bread oven. The two sisters immediately caught one of the running piglets and brought it to us. The little piglet quickly wriggled free and ran away, while their brother led a black horse to us, saying we could ride it whenever we wished. Meanwhile, the dogs, excited by the sight of new people, jumped up to play and demand attention.

As I was taking in the surroundings, Larissa called us to the yurt for breakfast. I glanced at the black horse again—our ride would come after breakfast.

The Tuvan Breakfast

Larissa had prepared the Tuvan breakfast on the small wooden table inside the yurt. As soon as we entered, the first thing she did was serve each of us a bowl of warm milk. For the Tuvans, this milk—called ak çem (white food)—is sacred. They believe milk protects a person from evil spirits and strengthens them. It is a tradition for the host to serve milk first to their guests. You will also often hear Tuvans wishing that someone’s path be “as pure as milk” when offering good wishes.

The milk was so delicious that Larissa refilled our bowls once more. While we sipped, she began explaining the regional foods on the table, all homemade. Tuva cuisine, shaped by pastoralism and nomadism, relies heavily on milk and meat products. Because winters are long and harsh, traditional agriculture is rare, so vegetables do not play a large role in their cuisine. Tuva food culture is particularly rich in dairy. On the table were many varieties of cheese, including bıştak (a type of white cheese), aarjı (curd cheese), and kurut (dried cheese). In addition to cheeses, there was a type of clotted cream called öreme. Larissa recommended mixing the öreme with roasted barley flour, or dalgan, and enjoying it that way—I followed her advice, and it was indeed delicious.

In a separate corner, there was a dessert called çökbek, made by boiling butter inside cow or sheep stomachs. A glass carafe held a beverage that looked like lemonade; they explained that this was sarı su (sarıg sug), a very healthy drink made from whey. Tuva cuisine also has dishes similar to ours. Mançı mün, a type of “dumpling soup,” is one example. Another dish called hujuur is essentially the same as çibörek, a savory pastry.

The Tuvans love drinking tea, though their tea is a bit different from what we’re used to. Their milk tea, called süttüg shay, is prepared by adding milk and salt to green tea. The idea of salt in tea may sound strange at first, but I found it surprisingly pleasant and flavorful. Served in small, handleless bowls, this milk tea is a delightful ritual after meals. Another important detail is that the tea is meant to be sipped with a soft slurping sound. The Tuvans believe this is the only way to fully appreciate the flavor. They find it amusing that in other cultures slurping is considered impolite, and if you try to sip quietly, they will promptly show you how to höpürdetmek—slurp properly and savor the tea.

After finishing breakfast and tea, it was time to explore the surroundings. Inside the yurt, many traditional items representing Tuva culture caught the eye. Larissa pointed to the tos karak spoons on an embroidered chest and explained that they are used in rituals. They were exactly like the ones I had seen during the shamanic ceremony I attended.

The tos karak is a nine-compartment spoon—its name literally meaning “nine eyes”—used in shamanic ceremonies and other rituals to sprinkle milk around. The number nine is sacred for the Tuvans. Each compartment represents the nine skies (tos deer), nine types of domestic animals (tos çuzun mal), and nine taigas (*1). However, these nine taigas don’t necessarily correspond to the same nine for everyone. While some may have specific taigas in mind, the number primarily symbolizes the hunter’s spiritual connection with all the taigas of the world.

The tos karak spoon is an integral part of the rituals performed by hunters. According to tradition, before heading out into the taiga, hunters dip their tos karak into milk and sprinkle it over the fire they light, extending in all four directions starting from the east. By doing this, they show respect to the spirit of the taiga, called çer eezi or the “owner of the place” in Tuva culture. In Tuva shamanism, it is believed that every place in nature—mountains, rivers, forests, or springs—has its own spirit or guardian. Rituals involve offering gifts to these spirits to honor them and gain their favor. Hunters believe that by performing these rituals and offering gifts before hunting, they will appease the taiga’s spirit and ensure a successful hunt.

At this point, it’s worth noting that Tuva culture is rich with stories and legends about these spirits. Musicologist Valentina Suzukey shared one with me during our conversations. According to the tale, a group of hunters ventured into the taiga at the first snowfall to begin the hunting season. One young hunter, a gifted flutist, played the shoor (*2) beautifully. Before setting out, the hunters offered gifts to the spirit of the taiga and then dispersed to hunt. When the hunt ended, all the hunters returned, except for the young flutist. After searching, they finally found him sitting beneath a large pine tree, playing his flute—but he was dead. The legend says that the taiga spirit was a woman who had fallen in love with the young hunter and taken him for herself. Suzukey added that stories like this abound in Tuva folklore, providing endless material for films and storytelling.

Returning to the yurt, another striking detail was a string of sheep ears attached to the wooden lattice of the yurt, next to the embroidered chest. Noticing my wide-eyed curiosity, Larissa immediately explained their story. The tips of the sheep’s ears were cut to prevent the family’s animals from mixing with those of others while grazing.

Meanwhile, the two little sisters had taken out some small game pieces from a box and begun playing a game on the floor. Upon closer inspection, I realized the pieces were animal bones. The game, called Kacık, was a type of racing game. Each bone represented a different animal, and specific moves determined which player finished first. I’m sure the children had many other creative games to enjoy their time in the oba. This alone is a fascinating and fun area worth studying and exploring.

In another corner of the yurt, traditional clothing was hung. Larissa took a long dress from a hanger and helped me put it on. In a short while, I almost looked like a Tuvan myself! Tuvan clothing incorporates elements inspired by and connected to nature. For example, the upturned tips of their boots are designed not to harm the grasses and plants they step on. The brightly colored silk dresses, adorned with motifs, are cinched with belts whose thickness indicates the wearer’s status. Their long, pointed hats represent the peaks of mountains.

After exploring the items in the yurt, we began to chat. When I mentioned that I was a musician and had come to study their music, Larissa immediately called a musician friend to visit us. About half an hour later, Aybek arrived at the oba with his igil and doşpuluur (*3). Aybek, a music teacher in the city, explained that he made his own instruments and then played several pieces for us.

Meanwhile, life around the yurt continued at its calm pace. The sheep had moved to the other side of the area to graze, the piglets were still chasing each other, and the cows wandered between the yurts. Nearby, the men who had slaughtered an animal were dividing its meat by the truck. The dogs had received their share and happily gnawed on their bones, while on the other side, the girls’ older brother had put them on his horse for a little ride. Since our arrival, the sun had traveled across the cloudless sky, stretching the shadows. Young raptors circled overhead, and the distant mountains shifted in color as the light changed. Apart from the sounds of animals, children, and the wind, there was a peaceful silence. This… was how a day passed in a nomadic yurt on the Central Asian steppe.

When it was time to leave, Larissa saw us off one by one, placing a few packages of cheese in our hands. The little sisters ran over to hug us, and their older brother came with the black horse, wishing us a good journey. We got into the car and headed back to Kyzyl along the dirt road.

On the way back, the endless steppe flowed past on both sides of the road. Occasionally, we would spot a lone tree standing in the middle of the plain. One of our Tuvan friends, seeing the trees, said: “If you see a solitary tree standing in the middle of the steppe, know that it is the spirit of a person…”

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1. Taiga: Of Altai origin, it refers to a forest-covered mountain. It is also the name given to the vegetation boundary that forms south of the tundra in the Northern Hemisphere.

   
   

2. Şoor: A traditional Tuvan flute made by hollowing out a willow or black pine branch. Its shape resembles a ney. It is used both in traditional music ensembles and by shamans.

   
   

3. Doşpuluur: A three-stringed instrument played by plucking the strings with fingers, similar to a guitar. The fretless instrument has a body made entirely of wood or wood stretched with leather.

   
   

I will provide detailed information about another traditional instrument, the igil, in my next post.