A Kazakh Upbringing Drenched in Folklore and Superstition
Daily Insights: Unveiling Kazakh Traditions: Invoking Fortune and Welcoming the Invisible in Daily Routines
Hey there! Let's dive into the heart of Kazakh culture, where I, Aida Haidar, was raised, surrounded by a blend of Russian influences and deeply ingrained Kazakh traditions. This is a world where everyday life intertwined with mystical beliefs and a deep respect for the tangible and intangible world.
Growing up, I experienced a fascinating interplay of superstitions and practical wisdom. My first encounter with this was in our small 'Khrushchyovka' apartment in Kokshetau, where we borrowed kitchenware from neighbors. My mother would secretly place treats in the returned dishes, believing in a tradition called "yrys." This word means prosperity or abundance, and she feared an empty dish might risk our own good fortune. As a child, it felt like part of a game, but as I grew older, it became a practice I carried with me into adulthood.
Welcome to the world of "yrymdau," a Kazakh tradition of interpreting omens, recognizing signs, and exchanging small tokens for good luck. It's not about strict rituals but an intuitive way of navigating life, an unspoken understanding that the seen and unseen worlds must be kept in balance. While I'm no expert, this is my interpretation of yrymdau.
For instance, I start significant tasks on Wednesday because, like many Kazakhs, I grew up believing it to be a lucky day. In tough financial times, I donate to charity or find a means to help someone in need, believing this aligns me with fortune and goodwill - what many might see as the law of balance - giving before receiving. This is my interpretation of yrymdau, an extension of tradition, a silent hope I pass on through my actions.
Names also hold significance in this culture. I was named after Aida Vedischeva, a famous singer, whose name I believe played a role in shaping me. It ignited a deep appreciation for the arts in me, and I often ponder if this was an extension of yrymdau, a whispered hope passed down through a name.
Kazakhs, it seems, have long held the belief that fortune is not something stumbled upon but something invites. Our ancestors believed that if someone achieved success, a part of their luck could be shared. At large celebrations, people would share food and even ask for items from the fortunate individual, hoping this gesture would allow fortune to favor them as well. Yrymdau was never just about taking - it was about effort, too. Luck might knock on your door, but you had to be willing to welcome it in and do the work yourself.
In essence, yrymdau was a way for Kazakhs to navigate an unpredictable world and find a measure of control in the vast and often harsh landscapes of the steppe. Life here was never easy - endless raids, brutal winters, an unforgiving climate. Survival demanded more than just resilience; it required an acute awareness of the world's signs. I believe this is why Kazakhs approach life with deep respect, not just for nature but for the unseen forces that guide our paths.
More than anything, I am convinced that yrymdau is an act of optimism. It is the belief that luck, happiness, and abundance are not just accidents but things that can be nurtured and encouraged. Only those who paid attention to the sky, the wind, and the movement of animals could survive in the steppe. This attentiveness, this belief in signs, has been carried through generations.
In their book, "Qazaq Yrymdary" (Kazakh Beliefs), authors Akhmetzhan Kaibaruly and Bolat Bopaiuly write, "Only those Kazakh beliefs that have been thoroughly filtered through centuries of nomadic life have survived. They are deeply ingrained in the nation's consciousness and leave no room for doubt." The book lists around 500 superstitions, including practical wisdom like: "If a dog follows a rider leaving the village, it should not be chased away. This is a sign of a safe journey, as a dog is loyal to its owner and wishes them no harm."
And everyday customs, such as: "A teapot should be placed evenly on the fire so that boiling liquid does not spill onto the stove. If tea overflows, the burning water salts are believed to bring misfortune to the daughter of the house. A cauldron should not be positioned tilted toward the entrance. If it slides and topples over, it is a bad omen."
In all of these, I see a deep reverence for the natural flow of life. There is wisdom in recognizing signs, believing that fortune can be encouraged, and knowing that even small gestures - a sweet in a borrowed dish, a Wednesday morning start - can tip the scales ever so slightly in your favor. Yrymdau is not just about superstition; it is about hope, resilience, and the quiet ways we try to shape our destinies.
- In the land of Kazakh culture, where fashion, beauty, and home décor intertwine with tradition, I share stories about my upbringing steeped in folklore and superstition.
- My childhood was a blend of practical wisdom and mystical beliefs, including the tradition of "yrys" - placing treats in borrowed dishes for a local custom of prosperity and abundance.
- On Wednesdays, I start significant tasks, following a superstition common among Kazakhs, believing it brings luck and goodwill - a silent hope passed on through tradition and actions.
- In Kazakh culture, names hold significance, and I was named after a famous singer, Aida Vedischeva, whose name shaped me and ignited a deep appreciation for the arts - an extension of yrymdau, a whispered hope passed down through a name.
