‘Not about physical strength, but spiritual endurance’: A sense of history at the World Nomad Games

There is much to appreciate in the peaceful nature of the port of Gemlik in western Turkey, especially after some time taking in the myriad sights and sounds of the World Nomad Games about 40 miles further east on the banks of Lake Iznik.

The Nomad Games have been held every two years since 2014 (with a break in 2020 due to Covid-19), based around traditional sports practiced across Central Asia and celebrating the culture of Turkic populations. What makes them special? Sultan Raev, a Kyrgyz author and secretary general of TURKSOY, a cultural organisation uniting countries with Turkic populations, describes them pithily: “They are not about physical strength. They are about spiritual endurance.”

The previous day, Arslan Koichiev from the Organisation of Turkic States had been my company heading to the Games. We drove for two hours through the Turkish countryside, row upon row of olive shrubs rolling upwards into the hills. As we headed up the track leading up to the Games you could sense the hum of anticipation building, with the sound of drums in the distance reverberating against the car.

Stepping out of the vehicle I was hit by a mix of scents, earthy and musky and sweet all at once and then a splash of colour. The pinks, greens and oranges of the yurts were beautiful, reflecting ancestral patterns.

The Games are thunderous, uniting travellers over four days of cultural festivities. They were founded in 2014 by Askhat Akibaev, who wanted to create an event that told the hidden story of the Kyrgyz. The idea grew to encompass a wider range of peoples, reimagined as a global celebration akin to the Olympics. They were held in their birthplace of Kyrgyzstan for the first three iterations and resumed last week in Turkey. In 2024, they will move to Kazakhstan.

A new host country means a new Nomad Games: the experiences offered in Iznik were different to those in those in Kyrgyzstan’s Cholpon-Ata. Here, the Games are more sprawling, although not without a sense of community.

Children laughed as they chased each other round Kyrgyz yurts while their parents and grandparents shared stories (and cigarettes) over a glass of kumis, fermented mare’s milk not dissimilar to kefir. Uzbeks and Kazakhs gathered around woodcraft workshops to learn from each other’s skills.