A kokpar play during a scrimmage. Photo by Albert Otkjaer, via Vlast.kz. Used with permission.
This post by Albert Otkjaer first appeared in Vlast.kz on September 18, 2025. This edited version is being republished on Global Voices under a content partnership agreement.
As the sun sets over a hippodrome on the outskirts of Almaty, 10 men on Karabair horses line up. At the referee’s call, they charge across the field toward a stuffed leather sack, roughly the size of a goat. Horses collide, while riders push and whip to gain position. The nomadic game of kokpar has begun.
Once popular across Central Asia, Kazakhstan’s kokpar is essentially similar to Afghanistan’s buzkashi or Kyrgyzstan’s kok-boru. This version, however, has been altered to fit modern standards: a smaller field, softer goals, and a dummy goat.
For Daniyar Daukey, who runs a local kokpar club, these changes are about gaining popularity, but all over the region similar measures are being taken to bring the game’s nomadic heritage in line with modern standards of ethics and safety.
A dangerous tradition
After a brief skirmish, a rider charges the goal with the 25-kilo dummy hanging from his side. He leaps off his horse into the donut-shaped goal, called “tai kazan” a risky but common move.
“The dynamic of the game has changed since Soviet times, it is more aggressive now,” said Ulan Bigozhin, an anthropologist at Nazarbayev University. He pointed to the fact that the game is played with bigger horses today, adding that kokpar is still a physical sport that requires a lot of strength.
That danger is evident in Kyrgyzstan, where a player died earlier this year after a horse crashed into him — the third such fatality in seven years. While deaths are rare, concussions, trampling, and high-speed collisions are commonplace.
Despite the frequent injuries, Bigozhin explained that especially the Kyrgyz have been hesitant to introduce safety rules.
“It was by keeping these dangerous aspects of the game, such as a tai kazan made of concrete, that the game gained popularity now,” he told Vlast.
A tai kazan made of hay and covered in a tap. Photo by Albert Otkjaer, via Vlast.kz. Used with permission.
Daukey also admits to the tai kazan’s dangers and replaced it with a softer version.
“Instead of the concrete goal that they use in Kyrgyzstan, which is dangerous for horses and players, we make our goals out of hay,” he explained. “In the Kazakh official version, they draw a circle on the field instead, and it’s easy to score. In our version, if you try to score in a goal made of hay you have to stop and put it up, so there is time for the defense to make a move.”
He also shortened the field to limit dangerous collisions, shrank teams to a three-a-side instead of four, and replaced the traditional goat carcass with a dummy. While some changes are controversial, the dummy goat has been widely accepted, even by Kyrgyz kok-boru players.
A legacy sport
The exact origins of kokpar are unknown, but versions of the game have been played for centuries across Central Asia. Sometimes involving hundreds of riders on each side, the sport was both competition and community ritual.
“If we look back to the 19th and early 20th century, kokpar, even during Soviet times, was probably less of a sport and more of a folk game,” Bigozhin explained.
Under Soviet rule, kokpar nearly disappeared. Collectivization limited the amount of private horses, and many nomads were resettled into towns and cities.
“If you have a horse you could train it for kokpar. But since most horses became property of the state, they were mostly used in the agricultural sector. It was still possible to play, but with the collective farms and many settling in the cities, the traditional game almost died out,” Bigozhin told Vlast.
While never officially forbidden, kokpar was forgotten by many, especially in northern Kazakhstan where Russian settlers had no cultural connection to it.
Daniyar Daukey overseeing the scrimmage. Photo by Albert Otkjaer, via Vlast.kz. Used with permission.
A revival of nomadic culture
The games, funded by local governments, have drawn participants from as far afield as the UAE and the US.
Social media has also fueled kokpar’s return. Daukey’s club posts highlights to more than 50,000 followers.
“We cannot live without social media. It’s a way for us to broadcast the game and make sure that the Kazakh people know how exciting it is,” he said.
At the same time, “ethno-villages” have sprung up across Kazakhstan giving visitors a glimpse of the lifestyle that used to be. “You can play kokpar, do horseback archery, drink tea from samovar, and eat plov in the outskirts of the city. When you come back, you share all of these videos and pictures,” Bigozhin said.
The game remains male-dominated. Players make a show of their strength and must raise funds for their sport within the local community of business elites.
“Some local businessmen might want to build their reputation and sponsor the game. This creates a system of patronage. You can be a masculine kokpar player but you still need money to sustain your passion,” Bigozhin said.
Read more: Kyrgyzstan’s national game, kok-boru, continues to attract new fans around the world
Global ambitions
For Daukey, the goal is not only to revive kokpar locally but to bring it to the international stage. The idea came in 2017, when foreign polo players visiting Almaty tried kokpar for the first time and praised its potential.
Two years later, Daukey and 10 teammates showcased the sport at a hunting festival in Fontainebleau, France, in front of 17,000 spectators. This was an opportunity to introduce the sport to a new group of potential players.
“Every sport needs amateurs, they are the main engine for developing the sport, because they have a different view on the game,” Daukey said.
The performance earned further invitations to equestrian shows abroad, but funding remains a hurdle. “We get invitations for the hunting festival in France every year, and we also get calls from the US, so basically, we need a good sponsor to get there with our horses,” Daukey explained.
Others have different ideas on how to re-popularize the sport, keeping it closer to the nomadic version played before and during the Soviet times.
Aidarbek Khodzhanazarov, the president of the Kokpar Federation and an MP, said he wants to popularize the sport again, also by launching a new kokpar league in the country.
Khodzhanazarov made some controversial comments last year, after the final at the Nomad Games between Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan was criticized by the Kyrgyz side.
“A few years ago, our Kazakh player was taken to intensive care after being held down by Kyrgyz players. We did not make a fuss. Because this is kokpar, not ballet. If you want to play, do not complain about being hit with a whip,” the MP said.
All the rhetoric about strength, courage, and audacity aside, Bigozhin warns that safety must come first. Daukey, confident in his safer format, is already thinking long-term: “In five years it should become popular in Kazakhstan and in 10 years it could spread to Kyrgyzstan, but to make it internationally you need 15 years,” he explained.
After laying the dummy in the tai kazan, a rider in a tight-fitting shirt and a light red fur hat trots to the edge of the field. He pulls out his phone, his face glowing in the screen’s light. A female voice answers on the other end. It’s time to celebrate the goal with your loved ones.
