4. Acknowledged performing arts: songs and stories

The three main acknowledged performing arts, the sung takhpakh and ïr (or sarïn), and the epic attïgh nïmakh, were, and are, prestigious activities. First, each has its own terminology denoting the art form, its practice, and the specialist performer. Second, the accompanying instruments as well as the vocal technique khay for storytelling, each have stories of origin. Third, the specialists often receive "the gift". Finally, all three, takhpakh, ïr, and nïmakh, have a spirit-owner (ee) that may bestow the specialist with good words, good melodies, and good khay respectively, allowing him or her to perform successfully. The skilful performance of one of these three art forms gives a person high status. Storytellers who performed nïmakh with musical support had the highest status, followed by the takhpakh and ïr singers. Any member of society could perform takhpakh and ïr, the more skilful ones possibly becoming specialists. Nïmakh, however, was to be told only by specialists, who, following Asinovskaya (1997: 326), had magical power attributed to them. Alongside these highly regarded types of storytelling and singing, more ordinary, lower status ones existed, some of which I include in this overview.

The first set of acknowledged performing arts consists of songs, both takhpakh and ïr or sarïn. Apart from these prestigious song types, some less prestigious kinds of singing existed, about which little is known. These included the paay paay cradle song and the aydïm or ayanïm (from ayt-, to say), a poem-less song, on a text like "aydïm aydïm aydïm tiderbîn," (I said, said, said, will say). The prestigious sung types had their own specific verbs to denote the practice, which the less prestigious types seem to have lacked. For the practice of singing also a general verb was used, that connects singing to merry-making (kögle-: to make a tune, to make merry), as goes for playing (oyna-), mentioned earlier.

Singing in general was allowed in and around the house and, as long as it happened in a group, also outside the villages, in the frequently crossed open steppes. One could sing at day and at night. To sing outside the world inhabited by humans, particularly in the taiga, was - and still is - considered dangerous.

Singing, as the generic term suggests, was mostly done when people gathered and were joyous, as is the custom to this very day. Some kinds of song could be performed at any convenient gathering; other kinds were exclusively to be performed at particular ceremonies.

Different types of song existed, often with particular texts for the different occasions, such as everyday situations, festivities, contests, and highly ceremonial weddings. They could be performed alone, alternating between two persons or two groups, or in a choir. Their texts could be fixed or improvised on the spot. The contexts for singing most often mentioned in ethnographical sources are weddings and the "game". In the following, I present the different kinds of singing starting with ceremonial singing with a fixed text, as during weddings, followed by playful singing with a fixed text, as during harvest breaks, and singing with an improvised text at special contests.

Singing was especially important during weddings. For the different phases of the wedding, from the marriage proposal to the final festivities, a wide range of singing practices are mentioned, always in dialogue form. Several "words", like for instance, the marriage proposal, had to be sung (Katanov 1997 [1907]: 4-7; Kenel' 1955a: 23-24). As an informant of Kira van Deusen said in the 1990s: "Some things in life are too important for speech -- and then you must sing. For instance, before the Soviet period, when a man wanted to propose marriage, he would come with his family and friends to the girl's home and sing his proposal" (Van Deusen 2000: 6). After a period of consideration the girl's relatives would reply with a song.

Although the texts of such "words" were fixed, it was real question-and-answer. Other dialogues during the wedding ceremonies were sung alternating between the parties, like the dialogue song with a fixed text sung between bride and groom or between groups of girls and boys. This latter one, the "boys-and-girls' song" could also be sung by just a group of girls. A last kind of group dialogue song was the circle dance-song (oyïn), discussed earlier, that was performed by female and male participants. This way of alternating singing, singing dialogues with fixed texts, was clearly distinguished from alternating singing with improvised texts, takhpakh singing.

Wedding festivities and other gatherings, like the shared pastimes during the harvest, were occasions for playful togetherness. Although the context for singing could be ceremonial and serious, as during a wedding ceremony, singing practices often were and are playful and joyous, as is clear from the humorous texts, the joking gestures, and the accompanying laughter.

The concept of playing (see section 2.3) is relevant to the traditions of singing in dialogue form in two ways: some wedding dialogue song practices were called "playing", and takhpakh singing could take place as a "game" in the sense of a competition. Thus, the girls' group dialogue song, performed during weddings and during breaks at harvest, was called oyïn or oyïn ïrï; (Butanaev 1999: 72; Kenel' 1955a: 134-35). Also the animal song, a fictive dialogue between a human being and an animal about some of its features, was conceived of as a game (Asinovskaya 1997: 339). Besides such dialogue games on fixed texts, people sung improvised takhpakh in specially organised singing contests.

Thus, among other practices, the Khakas had the following important song forms: 1) sung words, ïr, and oyïn, during, e.g., wedding ceremonies, 2) oyïn ïrï, during, for instance, harvest breaks, and 3) takhpakh, especially important at contests. As sung words, the oyïn playing, and their performance contexts were addressed in the sections on dance and on words for spirits, the remaining part of this section on singing is dedicated to the ïr and takhpakh song types, to their distinctions and performance contexts.

A takhpakh song consists of minimally four paired improvised text lines sung to an existing melody. Takhpakh songs were set to a melody that was sung all over a village, with only slight variations between one singer and the next. Other villages would have other takhpakh melodies. To this day, although some takhpakh melodies have spread through the region, one can tell a singer's origin from the local melody. With regard to the text, both the structure of the poem and its contents follow strict rules. Thus, for instance, specific patterns of alliteration and parallelism in contents, that link elements from human life with elements from the surrounding world, are a requirement. Topics for takhpakh are as varied as life. For instance, in 1996, while we were seated to a sumptuous dinner, my hostess sang takhpakh about her guest from a far-away country, as well as about the pickles on the table.

Takhpakh singing was and is very popular. Formerly singers competed in specially organised improvised takhpakh contests that took place as part of gatherings or as separate events, and could last an entire day and extend through the night. Such contests were called aytïs ('to speak together') and "connote verbal combat, usually a contest in the form of a dialogue between two or more poets or poet-singers" (Kunanbaeva 2002: 953).

Like elsewhere in nomadic Central Asia, contests in general were, and are, important in Khakas society. Today, horse races, wrestling, archery, and boulder lifting are popular.(13) And although organised aytïs contests have not taken place for a long time, the competitive element in takhpakh singing is still highly valued. This might be due, first, to the importance of expressing words in general (see section 2.4), and, second, to the importance for a performer to prove himself and gain a position in society. In the contest, takhpakh singers could show of their skills in improvising texts. Apart from poetic mastery, this also required ingenuity, wit, musical baggage, and, if the singer accompanied himself, mastery of a musical instrument. Only singers with a ready witty repartee, who could answer without delay, would be called a takhpakhchï (Butanaev 1999: 139). Thus Aleksandr Samozhikov valued a female takhpakhchï for her ability to react immediately and for her "demand for an immediate answer" (Samozhikov, interview, 2001).

Today, people sing mostly using fixed texts set to regionally known melodies. Sometimes, however, mostly elderly people in Khakas villages sing improvised takhpakh during gatherings. The following excerpt is an example of urban takhpakh singing by a company of young people. The takhpakh Irkemay (My beloved) is sung in turn by different performers who improvise texts in which they challenge one another. Clearly visible is the common singing movement, the slight swinging of the upper body from side to side, as well as a gesture specific to takhpakh, the challenging and designating of the next singer. With facial expression and a shoulder movement, the singer reinforces her or his witty point, and invites a quick reaction: an arm gesture indicates the next singer. Between the improvised stanzas the group sings a refrain.

Video Example 4:

The takhpakh Irkemay, sung at a birthday party; 31 seconds. Recorded by the author in Abakan, 9 March 2002. 175 KB, filetype: wmv; duration 0:31

Ïr and sarïn songs were distinguished from the takhpakh song by their fixed, non-improvised text. Musicians and researchers disagree about the distinction between ïr and sarïn. The general scholarly point of view is that the sarïn has more stanzas and a more elaborate melody than the ïr (and takhpakh) songs. A few scholars consider the main difference to be dialectical, the term sarïn originating with the neighbouring Shor people. Musicians pointed out to me that in practice sarïn and ïr were formerly interchangeable, but came to denote different things when composed songs appeared. In traditional song texts, the terms are synonymous. As the composer's "folk song" developed in the 1950s (see section 5.1), the term sarïn was more and more used for this new song type.(14) This modern sarïn is longer and has a larger range and a more elaborate melody. Its text form and contents are freer "since the sarïn is written by a [trained] poet, who does not know how to alliterate" (Charkov, personal communication, 2004). Until evidence proves different, I follow this distinction made by the musicians-informants: that is, I use ïr for the older type and sarïn for the modern song type with fixed text.

As soon as somebody performs a takhpakh made by someone else, it becomes ïr (Maynagashev, personal communication, 2001). The musicians thus distinguish the two song types by the attribution of the text. Since one sings someone else's creation, the ïr is given a title, in contrast to the takhpakh. Before starting, the singer always tells where she or he heard the song, whose it was, and refers to its contents and the specific circumstances of its creation. The same process of attribution occurs in animal songs, where the singer-creator is supposed to be the animal. It therefore is always called an ïr song, since the human performer recalls the original words of the animal. Thus, for instance Paghajakh ïrï ("Song of the frog") is named after the (fictive) creator of the song, the frog. Laments are also always attributed and located, and are in this sense treated as a "song". When a person other than the creator-performer performs a "real" lament again, the original context and performer are always mentioned. Similarly, a formalised lament inserted in an epic was always attributed to the fictive creator-performer, e.g. the wife or mother of the fallen hero. The epic itself, however, is never attributed to a performer, either real or fictive, since the story belongs to the main actor, the hero.

Thus, an ïr, as a recalled takhpakh, has a fixed text and melody. But, of course, as time goes on, both melody and text begin to diverge from the original one. As Charkov said: "everybody hears the takhpakh in a different way, which at the end causes different texts" (Charkov, personal communication, 2004). After a time, variants of a song may retain only a far-distant resemblance. A good example is the song Ek, chonnïng pay irîn (Hey, rich man of our people) by the Aylanïs ensemble (see 5.3, video example 9), which Kenel' registered as Ek, chonïm poyarin (Hey, my people [followed by a nonsense word]; Kenel' 1955a: 59). Kuchenov (personal communication, 2004) rejects both text variants, maintaining that the oldest variant was Ek, chanïm pay irîn (Hey, free man; lit. soul of a rich man) and recounted the wars against the Russians at the turn to the 18th century.

Today, especially in the Khakas villages in the North of Khakassia, takhpakh and ïr are sung at any appropriate occasion. In other rural areas, as well as in the urban centres, when Khakas people sing "their" songs, they most often sing modern sarïn or chastushka (a Russian short play or dance song with improvised text) with a Khakas or Russian text. Among young musicians the takhpakh is reviving, as one can see in video example 4. Although in the older times singing seems to have been purely vocal, as many older song melodies do not fit the tuning system of Khakas instruments, it has become a custom to accompany takhpakh, ïr, and sarïn with a Khakas lute or zither, or with a Russian lute or accordion. In contrast to takhpakh singing, which is still a personal creative practice, the ïr and the modern sarïn are often sung in chorus, as is illustrated by the following excerpt in which women and men sing sarïn at a clan gathering, accompanied by a bayan accordion.

Video Example 5:

Sarïn singing. Recorded by the author in Chokh Chïl Aal (Troshkino), Shira District, 11 June 2001. 0.129 MB, filetype: wmv; duration 0:23

4.2 Storytelling

The second set of acknowledged performing arts is storytelling. Storytelling is most prestigious and is the only Khakas performing art that has been studied thoroughly, be it that more attention was paid to the text than to aspects of its performance.

Leaving aside the shorter types of stories, like the everyday chookh, performed when "they say: 'Chookhta, tell something!' and you think up something" (Samozhikov, interview, 2001), three main types existed: the kip chookh or "account", and the chazagh nïmakh and alïptïgh or attïgh nïmakh epics.

The kip chookh was the more common of the three. It could be told by anyone able to recount an event. Following Asinovskaya (1997: 330), in origin the kip chookh was a kind of legend, like the stories of origin of musical instruments. Later, a new kind of epic emerged, analogous to the existing heroic epic, but with a less prestigious hero and placed in the more recent past. This type of epic was also called kip chookh. While possibly true, this historical explanation does not sufficiently explain how the kip chookh epic is distinguished from other epics. Following my informants, the kip chookh is an account of something that "really happened". It is not a myth or legend, like the nïmakh (Charkov, personal communication, 2004). The primary distinction between kip chookh and nïmakh is thus one of truthfulness. Thus, when a kip chookh tells about war, this is a historic event with historical warriors who can be concretely localised and dated. The alïptïgh nïmakh, on the other hand, is about "the first people", as the word for hero (alïp) means "first person" as well (Kuchenov, personal communication, 2004).

The kip chookh legend could be told by anyone able to tell a story, but for the kip chookh epic and the chazagh and attïgh nïmakh greater skills were needed, as its text was not allowed to be changed too much. The chazagh nïmakh was always performed as a recitation without musical instrument and without the khay vocal technique, while the attïgh nïmakh, the longest and most prestigious type of epic, required both an accompanying instrument and the khay technique. The epic kip chookh, probably following the distinction made between these two nïmakh types, could be performed with or without khay and a musical instrument (Samozhikov, interview, 2001). Some storytellers could perform the same epic with instruments or without (Samozhikov, interview, 2001); that is, they could perform the same epic in the attïgh and in the chazagh way. As my informants assured me, all stories, also the ones without instrumental accompaniment, were told without gestures, a trait common to most Central Asian Turkic epics, with the exception of the Yakut and Kyrgyz ones.

The performance of both chazagh and attïgh nïmakh was restricted. My informants recounted that they could only be told at night, in the cold season, and by a specialist, the nïmakhchï. They were told (nïmakh ïs- or nïmakhta-) mostly inside the house. Telling epics was especially important at death-wakes and before hunting. In the distant past not even recollected by my oldest informants, epics would be told in the woods during the night prior to the hunt, to please the "owner" of the wood so that the catch would be plentiful. More recently, at death-wakes inside the house before the funeral, a storyteller with chatkhan or khomïs was needed. Most informants recounted a pragmatic reason for this: it would keep awake the people who had to be awake for a few nights running. In addition some musicians - especially the younger ones - gave metaphysical reasons. Thus Charkov explained it was a way to "keep the deceased nearby for a few more days" (Charkov, in interview with Maerkov, 2001) and Samozhikov, supported by many others, stressed that storytelling was necessary to "escort the soul away from this world" (Samozhikov, interview, 2001). If no storyteller with an instrument were available, a chazagh storyteller would do, and if no storyteller was available at all, someone would tell humorous stories (Kuchenov, personal communication, 2004). The survivors' laughter removed the deceased's anxiety and assured him or her that they kept on with their lives, which eased his or her departure from this world.

As in all stories, in the long epics the words were essential, but in the case of attïgh nïmakh (and the epic kip chookh) the story could become a musical art. The distinction informants made between chazagh and attïgh nïmakh was based on the absence or presence of khay plus an accompanying instrument. This distinction is clear from the terminology. A heroic story was either told "on horse" or "on foot". The chazagh nïmakh (lit. "epic on foot", also called chalang nïmakh or "ordinary epic") was performed without khay or instrumental support. In a story told "on foot" and "without a horse", the main character would be restricted, since "if an epic on foot was told, the hero was not put on the horse" (Butanaev 1999: 69). In other words, such a hero would not go to war. If the hero of a nïmakh was to go fighting, the story needed support from khay and an instrument. It had to be "with a horse" or "on horse" (attïgh). Consequently, the attïgh nïmakh was also called chaalïgh nïmakh or "epic with war" (Kenel' 1955a: 15; Butanaev 1999: 67). Thus, the mode of performance and the contents were closely related. The same dichotomy, on foot versus on horse, is found in shamanic practices. A chazagh kham was a shaman "with neither horse nor coat, thus without equipment", while an attïgh kham was "owning a horse, thus "shamanising" with a drum" (Butanaev 1999: 176). The latter was "big", an ulugh kham (Asinovskaya 1997: 323).

An attïgh nïmakh (and epic kip chookh) consisted of a whole complex of elements. The story was told with speech-like recitation and khay recitation in alternation. Instrumental play on a string instrument went along with the khay-recited parts. Besides this, the instrument was played solo to both start the epic and provide for instrumental interludes (oyïn). Finally, the story was occasionally interspersed with songs and formalised laments. Of the main skills acquired of an attïgh nïmakh performer - to re-imagine and versify the story, to recite it with speech and khay, to support it with instrument playing, and to sing and lament - my informants invariantly stated that the quality of the story and that of khay were most important. The audience valued a good performance in the first place for the quality of the told story: was it truthful, complete, and rich in imagination at the same time? Next came the quality of the khay: was it "thick", rich in timbre; and was it well articulated, allowing the audience to follow the story easily?

Instrument playing occupied a secondary place and was not valued too much by the audience. At the same time, it was very helpful, as "for the audience, to tell a story without instrument is boring" (Ulturgashev, interview, 2001). The instrumental play was judged by the amount of motives the storyteller had at his disposal. For the storyteller himself the instrument was essential. For two reasons it was impossible to tell an attïgh nïmakh without either the khomïs lute or the chatkhan zither. First, the melodies played on it facilitated recalling the words and telling the story. Second, the instrument could bring the teller to the realm of the hero. Although one would expect that the world of the epic would be entered with a special use of the voice (khay) that sets it apart from the everyday world (e.g. Reichl 2001: 75-76), the musicians do not mention this aspect of the performance. Instead, they underline the importance of their instrument as a carrier to the other world. It is difficult to overstate the importance of this last notion, which still lives among musicians. Samozhikov, for instance, told me that his stepfather, while teaching him the skills of playing, told him:

The chatkhan is like a horse for the khayjï. Nobody sees it, but it sits on the chatkhan. When he tells ïmakh, then it is present. [The teller] does not see anything while telling; he is as in a trance. Without it, it is very hard (Samozhikov, interview, 2001).

And Elbek Kalkin, an Altaian storyteller whom Mark van Tongeren and I visited in 2000, explained the support of his topshur lute as follows:

The topshur must help me; we should be together. He takes me with him. He is like a fine horse... Music can take you to the other side. You should feel like I do, we should become one and go to another world (van Tongeren 2004: 261).

Since the attïgh nïmakh was the most prestigious of all performing arts, the specialist performing it had a high status. Such a khayjï or khayjï-nïmakhchï might have been "called" by the spirit of the hero to become a storyteller. He mastered an extensive repertoire of epics, a very special vocal technique, and a musical instrument. Both male and female informants asserted that the stories "on horse" were to be performed by men only. Women were forbidden to do khay as this would cause infertility and misfortune to family and herd. However, occasionally women did perform alïptïgh nïmakh. They then would replace the khay with khay-imitation, and, in case they did not master an instrument, replace the motives by a drone (Samozhikov, interview, 2001).(15)

The male storyteller, with the two extra skills of doing khay and playing an instrument, just like the male kham with a drum, could "travel" to more realms and had a greater impact than his female colleagues did. Only male storytellers could send the hero to war. To do so, the storytellers could be supported by the spirit (ee or tös) of his instrument and by spirits (eeler) connected to the art form. The "owners" of the epic and of khay (nïmakh eezî and khay eezî) would give him the skills of storytelling and doing khay, and supported him when performing. A storyteller who clearly had the support of eeler was given the honourable title of eelîg khayjï.

Such an eelîg khayjï was Semyon Kadïshev (1885-1977), one of the last two famous Khakas storytellers. Kadïshev's performances have become the standard, partly due to the local Soviet administration that promoted him because, besides being a great master, he was presentable and pliable. Kadïshev had a large repertoire of about thirty epics, each lasting for several hours. His versions of stories were faithful - though mediocre in imaginary - and, as his khay was rich and accurate, each word was intelligible. Musicians valued him especially for his instrumental motives, which were telling and manifold.

The following excerpt comes from an attïgh nïmakh Kadïshev performed in the last year of his life. It is the very beginning of the epic, where the storyteller recalls the creation of the world, which begins with the earth and its metals, followed by snowy mountains and waters. As is the custom, Kadïshev sets off playing the first chatkhan motive instrumentally once. He then starts telling the story with khay and declamatory speech in alternation. After each breath he launches his khay again with a vocalising "e-hey".

Until one generation ago, storytellers would perform with chatkhan, in private houses and in sovkhoses. Some old storytellers assured me they still performed during death-wakes, but I did not witness an occasion when this was done. In fact, during my fieldwork, I never experienced nïmakh storytelling in context at all. At present-day wakes there is no storyteller, but sometimes a chatkhan player who also masters khay is invited. As in former times, the function of playing chatkhan is to keep the people awake and, in a cosmological sense, to help the soul leave the world. I was once able to attend a wake at which a young musician, Sergey Charkov, was invited to perform. Unfortunately, no audio-visual example of current chatkhan playing in this context can be shown, since it is strictly forbidden to record at wakes. Someone whose picture appears on a film or photograph taken during the wake is thought to die soon, a conviction which is extended to audio recordings as well.