Photo by Bauyrzhan Bismildin and assistant Alexander Leonov via Vlast.kz, used with permission.
This story by Aliya Bolatkhan (translated from Russian by Beatrice Learmouth) first appeared in vlast.kz on September 17, 2025. This edited version is being republished on Global Voices under a content partnership agreement.
Historian Aliya Bolatkhan describes how butter and kurt (a traditional dried cheese snack made from fermented sheep’s milk) are made in southern Kazakhstan. One hundred years ago, this was common practice, but it is now much rarer. In this article, we take you through a valley only accessible on horseback, where villagers preserve this forgotten practice.
The history of sheep’s milk in Kazakhstan
Up until the beginning of the 20th century, sheep’s milk was the base for all dairy products in Kazakhstan. In the late 17th century, horses and sheep dominated herds, while cows and camels accounted for just 1 percent of livestock. Even as late as 1922, an ethnographic survey found that cow’s milk represented only about 10 percent of a Kazakh family’s dairy consumption.
Cows were not seen as a valuable asset by nomadic people, as they required much more care than other animals, complicating long journeys. Plus, sheep’s milk is more nutritious than cow’s milk in terms of calories, fat, and protein.
Photo by Bauyrzhan Bismildin and assistant Alexander Leonov via vlast.kz, used with permission.
During the Russian colonization, cows became more commonplace due to closer ties with neighboring countries, resettlement policies, and shifting trade priorities. Gradually, the cow went from being the “worst type of livestock” (maldyn jamany siyr in Kazakh) to a prized possession siyr pul boldly in Kazakh).
In the Soviet era, this shift accelerated as emphasis was placed on industry, factory processing, and standardized raw material. Cow’s milk was more convenient for this system, while sheep were primarily raised for meat and wool. While Kazakhstan became famous for its production of wool and mutton by the 1960s, sheep’s milk, once the backbone of nomadic life, gradually faded into the background and out of people’s lives.
Personal reflections
Last summer, while working on an article about kurt, our team realized we had been oversimplifying our understanding of this product. Kurt is much more than just food; it embodies ideas about nourishment, the body, memory, and land.
I was most intrigued by the idea that sheep kurt was far more nutritious than cow kurt, and wanted to taste it for myself. Why, after living my whole life in Kazakhstan, had I never tried sheep kurt? Today, you can easily find kurt made with cow, camel and goat milk, but never sheep. Why do we hardly ever hear about sheep’s milk, when only a century ago it was the foundation of nomadic culture?
According to experts, in Kazakhstan, sheep’s milk is not produced on an industrial scale. Sheep are instead bred for their meat.
I set out to look for communities where sheep milking is still practiced. That search brought us to the home of two grandparents, Nesipkhan and Rozikul, who allowed us to see the process and taste the milk for ourselves.
Photo by Bauyrzhan Bismildin and assistant Alexander Leonov via vlast.kz, used with permission.
At first, we wanted to see the milking up in the mountains on the summer pasture, but the pasture is only accessible on horseback, and the climb takes as long as two hours. Instead, they suggested visiting the village, as the flock is brought down there at the end of the summer.
“That white one on the edge. Take her, her udder’s filling up,” says Rozikul.
Elzhas, the grandson, skillfully catches the sheep by the hind leg and holds it close to him. The animal struggles for a moment, then quickly calms down. It’s held firmly, but never harshly. Rozikul sits down beside it, bucket in hand, and with a faint, almost inaudible sound, milk trickles down into the metal bucket. This brief moment offers a glimpse of the pillars which encapsulate pastoral life, knowledge being passed from elder to younger, while humans and animals share the same space. It is difficult to translate these moments into words.
Photo by Bauyrzhan Bismildin and assistant Alexander Leonov via vlast.k, used with permission.
Lessons in mastery
Nesipkhan, a well-respected shepherd in the region, has been raising sheep since 1981. His family still follows the traditional seasonal pattern where sheep are taken up to the mountains to graze on the pasture in the summer, and back down to the desert in the winter.
“For thirty years, I had to fight wolves to protect the flock. But three years ago, they all disappeared,” Nesipkhan told us. This, he feels, is very metaphorical. It reflected his strong connection to his herd, a statement of authority and mastery earned over time.
Changing seasons
The milking season starts in early August, when the young lambs are separated from their mothers. Once they are separated, the milk does not stop immediately, so this is when farmers are able to milk the sheep. At first, this is every other day, then every two days, and gradually less often until, after three to four weeks, the milk dries up on its own. Doing it any other way would be “malga obal,” harmful to the animal, as people here say.
According to Rozikul, milking 250–300 sheep during this period can yield around 70kg of kurt and a couple of karyn mai, butter stored in a sheep’s stomach, each weighing roughly 5–6kg.
By the end of the lactation period, the amount of milk drops significantly. Sheep naturally produce the most milk during the first 60 days, then the yield steadily declines.
If Rozikul were to milk the sheep throughout the entire season, production levels would be far higher. However, that is not the aim of this practice. Milking is not “tradition for tradition’s sake,” but a sacred knowledge passed down through hands, gestures, and the everyday rhythm of pasture life. It is less about economic gain and more about participating in the natural cycle of caring for animals and sustaining the bond between humans and the herd.
Rozikul and Nesipkhan’s practice of herding and milking sheep seems like an exception today. A century ago, sheep’s milk was the basis of the dairy culture in Kazakhstan, but gradually this practice faded into the background.
