Here are two of his poems. The translations are unrhyming but otherwise accurate. Where I have felt the need to make stylistic choices, I have done so.

From Alip Tékin, Ibrahim. Memtili Ependi Shéirliri [The Poems of Memtili Ependi]. Ürümchi: Shinjang Xelq Neshriyati, 1998, p. 1:

[2]^ Tewpiq (تەۋپىق) comes from the Arabic tawfīq, a Muslim theological term referring to God’s grace or guidance. In Uyghur, it is often rendered as the “correct road” toghra yol. Memtili took this as his pseudonym, apparently from an early age.

Memtili composed this poem at the age of about 19, around the time of the departure of his teacher and mentor, the Ottoman educator and Pan-Turkist Ahmed Kemal.

From the same source, pp. 13-14:

[4]^ Thus, the speaker, to his Senem/senem, is just an improvised meshrep dance, but also represents, perhaps, the social power of the meshrep gathering.

[5]^ Ghérib is the tragic lover of Senem.

Memtili most likely wrote this poem in Istanbul, where he had arrived some years before. During his work and education there, he joined a group of young Turkestani exiles, some of whom returned with him to Kashgar in 1934 in hopes of building a new Turkic state. The poem suggests that he, as the speaker, has just learned about the uprising that led to the formation of the Turkic Islamic Republic of East Turkestan (1933-1934).

Oghlaq Tartishish, a traditional Central Asian sport which could roughly be rendered into English as “Goat Tussle,” or “Contending over a Goat” and better known by its Persian name, buzkashi, is something you’ll inevitably hear or read about in any foray into the peculiarities of Uyghur culture. During my time in Xinjiang I heard about Oghlaq Tartishish frequently though I never had the chance to see an actual game in action. Recently I realized that the idea of riding around on a horse and fighting with other mounted warriors over a raggedy sheep carcass was cool enough by itself and I had neglected to look into the how the actual game works. Reading the following short article, taken from a May 2007 Uyghur newspaper, proved to be very enlightening. As usual, the original Uyghur text will pop up when the text is moused over.

A Look at the Past and Present of the Goat Tussle and Horse Racing

The goat tussle and horse racing are two of the popular traditional sports among the Uyghurs, Kazakhs, Kirghiz, Tajiks, and other peoples of our autonomous region and over a long and continuous historical development have grown into a major player in the two cultural structures of the people.¹

Goat tussle matches and horse racing are usually reserved for winter, spring, Nowruz, weddings, festivals, special or auspicious occasions, and happy get-togethers. In earlier times, local elders of a particular area would gather together famous goat tussle experts and to raise the stakes of the horse games would use a calf in the place of a young goat.

Goat tussle matches are usually conducted as follows:

Before the match begins, the young goat or calf set aside for the game is slaughtered. Its head and hooves are removed and then it is disemboweled. After the goat or calf is readied, it is thrown onto the field of play that has been especially prepared for the match, and then mounted riders, divided into two groups, A and B, descend onto the field with their horses and begin to vie for the goat’s corpse lying on the ground. Whoever arrives first claims the goat as his spoils, taking it from the ground, darting off after securing the goat under his leg with the members of the opposing team hot in pursuit. Members of the goat-possessor’s team also follow suit, and without breaking ranks spend all their efforts on preventing the goat from being taken from the carrier as the members of the opposing team struggle hard to wrest it from them. The scene then takes on the appearance of a frenetic battlefield. Viewers of the match infuse the playing field with energy through their lively shouts and cheers. Among the goat tussling athletes, some are responsible for blocking the path of the player with the goat, while the stronger members of a team are responsible for defending the goat-carrying player as they all race towards the goal, and when the carrier arrives, he throws the goat into a designated container or structure. The goat’s corpse becomes the trophy for the team that attains victory.

Either large-scale or small-scale goat tussle matches and horse races can be held depending on the circumstances of a particular locale. Public organizations or wealthy individuals interested in promoting public sporting take on the task of supplying funds themselves and gather together goat tussle players and horse racers within their own neighborhoods or in nearby ones, hosting these unique games in the spirit of friendship and unity. A dedicated referee is hired to manage the regulations, scheduling, and hosting of the games. At the end of the events, the winning players are presented gifts. The winning horse of the races is adorned with a red cloth, and praise is given to the abilities of the horsemen and their steeds.

In 1949, a massive goat tussle game that used a calf instead of a goat was held in Yopurgha County [Mandarin: 岳普湖县, Yuepuhu Xian] between players from Yéngisheher [疏勒县, Shule Xian], Peyziwat [伽师县, Jiashi Xian], Maralbéshi [巴楚县, Bachu Xian] and other locals. During the game, a famous goat tussler named Nur Sidiq wowed the audience by flawlessly tossing the calf’s body right into a wooden hoop serving as the goal.

One day, I’m going to watch one of these games, hopefully one of those giant scale ones that last days and range over vast grasslands. Still, even though this article cleared a few things up for me, I’m not entirely sure how a beheaded, disemboweled goat carcass rendered raggedy and dirty by men and horses yanking and clawing at it can be presented with the same pride and glory of an Olympic medal or a giant, golden trophy – but hey! That’s just me.

I’ve translated a short article published today on Radio Free Asia’s Uyghur service. Bilingual education is one of the most controversial policies of the Xinjiang regional government, and is frequently accused of being disproportionately conducted in Mandarin, of co-opting a freer system where Uyghurs had the individual choice to send their children to exclusively Uyghur or Mandarin schools, of creating new educator standards that drive Uyghur teachers with poor Mandarin skills into unemployment, and of putting the education of Uyghur kids into the hands of Han educators unsympathetic to Uyghur culture. While many of these criticisms are valid and documented, I also think that the bilingual education policy is also extremely difficult to criticize, particularly since the concern with providing Uyghurs with the linguistic skills to be competitive on the job market is indeed a valid one and can be seen all over the world, as in, for example, the United States where providing immigrant children with English-speaking skills is paramount. Education in Xinjiang is a rich topic that spotlights issues of indigenous rights, cultural involvement in education, the relationship between language and nationalism, and “domestic” globalization. Here’s a short article where RFA reporter Irade, a Uyghur, weighs in on the topic.

Chinese authorities in the Uyghur region are presently undertaking firm measures to expand “bilingual” education starting with children in kindergarten. According to information from today’s Xinjiang newspaper, Shule County [Hanzi: 疏勒县; Uyghur: Qeshqer Yéngisheher Nahiyisi] has set the target for children’s enrollment in “bilingual kindergartens” to 100%.

According to the article, Shule County has managed to build 105 bilingual kindergartens, which together have a total of 14,166 children. The first “bilingual kindergarten” in Shule County was built in March of 2006, and under a policy mandating the construction of a standard bilingual kindergarten, in just 4 years “bilingual kindergartens” have spread to every single village in the county, including the most remote and distant ones.

The central Chinese government has allocated dedicated funding for the expansion of bilingual education in the Uyghur region up until the year 2012 as part of the 11th 5 year plan. The policy was originally aimed at educational training at the kindergarten, elementary, and middle school level, and emphasized working to broaden the areas designated for construction projects.

The so-called “bilingual” education policy, based on forcing Uyghur children to speak Chinese, has aroused intense discontent among Uyghur intellectuals both within and outside the Uyghur homeland. Critics draw attention to the potential of “bilingual” education to threaten the normal development and healthy thinking of immature children and accuse bilingual education of being a planned and deliberate assimilation policy.

As usual, the original Uyghur will pop up on hovering over the text, written in ULY. While I think the article I’ve translated is definitely worth sharing, it doesn’t necessarily reflect accurately my own opinions on the subject.

And so without furhter ado, I present to you the iconic, instant-meme well scene from the movie 300, with the immortal line, “THIS! IS! SPARTA!”… in Uyghur.

Hilarity ensues. Sadly, for some unfathomable reason, the Uyghur dubbers chose not to literally translate “This is Sparta!” into Uyghur – though if you want to go around Xinjiang kicking people into wells, OpkeHessip informs me the best translation would be “BU! DÉGEN! SPARTA!” Or replace Sparta with the name of the city you’re in to be more geographically relevant.

We see that after Leonidas draws his sword, at about 10 seconds, the emissary, in shock, responds “Sen sarang boldimu? Sarang bopsen!” or roughly, “Are you insane? You’ve gone mad!” Then, an awkward fifty seconds later, Leonidas responds to this accusation with,“Toghra. Men sarang boldum, men sarang boldum!” , or “That’s right. I have gone mad, I have gone mad!” where in the English version he delivers his memorable “Sparta” line. Not as unintentionally funny as the original, but that is more than made up for by the fact that IT’S IN UYGHUR! Woo.