Kurmangazy’s kiui “SaryArka” Noon had not yet come but the hot steppe June sun had already warmed the air and heated the roadside stones. In the vigilant silence of the steppe there could be heard monotonous unhurried footsteps of the horse. Gnawing at the bit and warily pricking the ears it was as if listening to his rider, and the rider remained quiet and only from time to time he looked back as if checking if he had dropped something amiss. Wide-shouldered, with the big forehead, with big features of the face and a big beard parted in two the rider was clad in spite of the heat, in kupi (upper clothing like armiak) with camel wool lining, leather trousers and a big fur cap. Behind his back he had a gun and in front upon the saddle - the dombra inside the felt sack. He was heading to Saryarka and by noon he had reached a small green lawn. Jumping on the ground and tenderly shaking the horse upon the white forehead with the wide palm the traveller freed him and let him graze. Immovable in deep thought the man was looking into the slightly blue distance. As if in a dream he took with his hand the dombra by the very base of the neck, touched with the index finger a string and removing the dombra on to the left hand, quickly and with assurance ran the fingers upon the strings. Over the steppe there rushed in waves the sounds of the dombra. Thus was being born the kiui of the great Kazakh composer-instrumentalist             Kurmangazy «Saryarka». Persecuted by the czarist regime he was forced to run away from his native places and now he was saying farewell to them with his inspiring song. The kiui «Saryarka» not only expresses the nostalgia of exile from his native land but creates a wide panorama of the people’s life, the best, the heroic inherent in people’s character. Born through the sensitive son’s heart Kurmangazy’s kiui «Saryarka» was the wrathful voice of the people itself, the voice of the steppe wide and limitless. Boundless and great is the Kazakh steppe. Whoever has not passed by it, whoever has not gone through its limitless space! There was enough room for all: Korkyt has gone carrying behind the back his kobyz, Asan - the sad (semi-legendary hero, who sought for the people the Promised Land without need and oppression), who touched with grievous weeping, greedy Karabai (the rich feudal bai from the folk legend «Kozy-Korpesh and Bayan-Sulu» who prized above human happiness his countless herds), who moved his herds, Koblandy (the hero of a folk epos people’s protector from the alien Djungar invaders) at the head of his valiant warriors. They have all been here and they will forever live in people’s songs and legends. And you - now nameless and homeless - will remain forever living in people’s memory. Let your path be lonely now - the wind will tell your progeny about you. Such is the motif of «Saryarka». The evening was approaching. Bridling the horse, tightening the belly-bend and tying the dombra on to the pommel the rider easily got into the saddle and moved on. This time he didn’t look back. His lean horse in a temper, biting the bit and tightening the reins, was quickly accelerating the pace as if trampling the ground under itself. Only the dust billowed after them.