ASTANA — Kazakhstan marks the 90th anniversary of poet Zhumeken Nazhimedenov on Nov. 28, honoring the writer whose verse shaped generations and whose lyrics formed the foundation of the national anthem. Commemorations across the country and enduring memoirs from his family reflect why his life, character and creativity continue to resonate four decades after his passing.
42-year-old Zhumeken Nazhimedenov. Photo credit: zhumeken.kz
A life grounded in poetry and purpose
Nazhimedenov was born on Nov. 28, 1935, in the Ashak area of the Koshalak sands in today’s Atyrau Region. After finishing school in 1954, he taught Kazakh language and literature, then worked as an assistant combine operator in Karagandy. Two years later, he entered the Kurmangazy Conservatory’s folk instruments department, beginning a path that would shape both his literary and musical identity.
Over the next two decades, he became a central figure in Kazakhstan’s cultural landscape. He worked as an editor at the Zhazushy (Writer) publishing house, led the literature and arts section of Leninshil Zhas (Lenin’s Youth) newspaper, and served as a literary consultant at the Union of Writers. In 1973, he completed advanced literary courses at the Gorky Literary Institute in Moscow.
His first poem appeared in Leninshil Zhas in 1955. His debut collection, “Niva,” followed in 1961, and his long-poem collection titled “No, One Must Not Forget!” earned him the Lenin Komsomol Prize in 1967. By the time of his death in 1983, he had published nearly 20 volumes of poetry and prose, and another 15 were released posthumously.
Nazhimedenov’s most widely known contribution came in 1956, when composer Shamshi Kaldayakov set his poem “Menin Qazaqstanym” (My Kazakhstan) to music. The song became a beloved patriotic hymn long before it was adopted as the foundation for Kazakhstan’s state anthem in 2006.
Family remembers a “quiet, exact, deeply principled man”
In her memoir “About My Father,” Nazhimedenov’s daughter Aiken Nazhimedenova described him as a creator whose work immediately captured readers and earned the respect of artistic and intellectual circles. She recalled a father who combined discipline with warmth.
“He raised five children, was a devoted son, a loving husband and a faithful friend,” she wrote.
Their home was filled with books, musical instruments, and encouragement to study, sing, or join scientific circles.
“Father was always strict about us speaking our native language at home,” she added, explaining that he set different expectations depending on each child’s abilities.
Nazhimedenova said he avoided lecturing or punishment as “his stern look was enough.” Friends remembered him as a reserved, concise and selective man who shared creative ideas only with close peers such as Abish Kekilbayev, Askar Suleimenov and Temirkhan Medetbekov.
“He was in measure a democrat, a humanist, a diplomat when needed, but mostly a philosopher, a cosmopolitan, brave, fair, and a modest patriot,” said Nazhimedenova.
According to her, Nazhimedenov’s devotion to people and his homeland is evident in every one of his works, even the earliest. That sentiment is reflected in his 1961 poem “Tugan Zher Turaly” (About Native Land), where he wrote:
“…Oh, wonder, new flowers bloom upon the ancient earth,
Forever struggling for the spirit of this steppe.
And one who walks the plains to breathe and love those flowers
Resembles a mother gently guiding her child.
Each time I look upon this land, my heart expands –
How could I not call this vast expanse my native home?…” (author’s loose translation).
Nazhimedenova said she felt this same sense of devotion most strongly in his song “Menin Qazaqstanym.”
“I understood the song ‘Menin Qazaqstanym,’ which later became the anthem, in my own way from early childhood,” she said, recalling interpreting it as a metaphor for sacrifice and devotion to one’s land.
“For a tulip to bloom in the steppe, it must first go under the ground, meaning it must die, give its life to adorn its native land and bring joy to its people. How deeply one must love their land to be ready to bloom as a flower for it,” she said.
The anthem’s repeated line, menin elim, which translates as my homeland, filled her with pride and a desire to repeat the cherished phrase.
“And if a Kazakh of the steppe, a nomad, herder or hunter, could grow wheat by watering the soil with hard labor and finding joy in the harvest, then he can do anything – descend into a mine, rise into space, conquer the whole world. That is his strength,” said Nazhimedenova.
A love story woven into a legacy
Nazhimedenov’s wife, Nasip Mustakhkyzy, shared memories of their early years in her memoir titled “Algashqy Khat, Algashqy Makhabbat” (First Letter, First Love).
She recalled that they studied at the same ten-year school, lived in the same dormitory, and saw each other almost every day.
Zhumeken Nazhimedenov and his wife Nazhimedenov’s wife, Nasip Mustakhkyzy. Photo credit: zhumeken.kz
She described his violin performances at school concerts, especially his rendition of the famous Latif Khamidi’s “Bulbul” song, after which the audience never let him leave the stage. He appeared to her as quiet, self-contained, fair-skinned with wavy black hair, and “always walking with his fists lightly clenched, as if holding his thoughts inside.”
“Every time we saw each other, I found myself terribly shy. Although I had grown up freely, almost like a boy, coming to this school made me realize for the first time that I was, in fact, an ordinary, shy girl. (…) Seven months after we first saw each other, on March 27, Zhumeken handed me his first letter,” said Mustakhkyzy.
Their relationship grew through handwritten letters exchanged secretly with the help of friends. She recalled a summer day when she and a friend rode horses to the village, dreaming that they might run into Nazhimedenov and his friend.
“We hoped they would appear. We knew they usually came down from the hills two or three days early to collect their school supplies. As we rounded the next kiosk, still daydreaming, the two of them suddenly appeared in front of us. There were many moments like this in our lives, almost like scenes from a fairy tale,” she said.
In his 1961 piece “Zhar Makhabbaty” (“Love of My Beloved”), Nazhimedenov wrote about a young devotion set against the quiet vastness of the Kazakh steppe:
“…In that moment, a quiet trial rose before me –
My joy then was tangled with a sigh.
The open steppe, our native plain, felt nothing,
Yet it lifted and carried the pounding of our twin hearts.Those heartbeats sent us searching for our dreams,
Those heartbeats carried us through summer, through autumn.
Under a pale moon veiled in silver dew,
Those heartbeats left their footprints on our homeland…” (author’s loose translation).
Colleagues remember precision and depth
Writer Matkarim Akimzhanov described Nazhimedenov as a distinctive figure with quiet strength. In his memoir “The Left-Handed Virtuoso,” Akimzhanov recalled a man who had never complained even on the hardest days.
From left to right: Mukagali Makatayev, Keneszhan Shalkarov, Gafu Kayirbekov, Zhakan Syzdykov, Zhumeken Nazhimedenov, Kydyr Myrzaliyev. Photo taken in 1964 by S.Pernebai. Photo credit: zhumeken.kz
“It always seemed that he had many sides and depths we could not fully grasp. One of those qualities was his spiritual strength. Even on the most difficult days of his life, he never showed weakness, never complained or blamed others, and never disturbed the peace of his family. He was a truly noble man who could endure anything with dignity,” writes Akimzhanov.
Akimzhanov also highlighted Nazhimedenov’s mastery of the dombyra.
“He was not just a player but a professional kuishi [master of traditional dombyra music]. I have never seen anyone draw such pure sound, adding his heart to the two strings,” he said.
He recalled the 1960s, when Nazhimedenov, upset with a supervisor, abruptly resigned and disappeared for months. Only later did friends learn he had spent that time alone with his dombyra, creating what would become “The Book of Kui,” a work that, as Akimzhanov said, revealed him to the public as a true poet and talent.
Legacy across Kazakhstan
Today, streets in Astana, Almaty and Atyrau bear Nazhimedenov’s name. A nine-meter bronze monument to the poet was installed in Atyrau in 2015.
His life and work have inspired documentary films, scholarly studies and memoirs. In 2012, his children launched the zhumeken.kz website with his works, family and friends’ memoirs, and archival photographs documenting his legacy.
In 2010, he was posthumously awarded the State Prize of Kazakhstan for his “Menin Qazaqstanym” poetic collection.
