Family’s YouTube Quest and Scholar’s Lifelong Crusade Guard Works of Turkmenistan’s National Poet, Magtymguly Pyragy
A Houston family and Arizona scholar unite across generations to preserve the soul of Turkmen culture.
The Atakov family, from left, Tirkishmyrat, Oguzhan, Nurana, Ogün Gözel Atakova, Enejan, and Nurana, along with Umit, not pictured, have embarked on a mission to preserve Turkmen culture and literature with their YouTube Channel, Milli Miras, meaning national heritage. The channel currently boasts more than 1,000 videos dedicated to Turkmen poetry, proverbs and folktales, including Turkmenistan’s national poet, 18th-century Magtymguly Pyragy.
In the living room of their suburban North Houston home, the Atakov family record another video for their YouTube channel, Milli Miras (“national heritage”). Twelve-year-old Janan recites a Turkmen nursery rhyme, translated into English by her older sister, Enejan. Nearby, their brother Ümit edits footage, while father Tirkishmyrat rehearses lines by Magtymguly Pyragy—the 18th-century poet whose words anchor their mission. Their videos, blending animation, poetry, and language lessons, have become an unexpected cultural lifeline for Turkmen families worldwide.
Far away in Phoenix, Arizona, 86-year-old scholar Yusuf Azmun examines centuries-old manuscripts, quietly working to safeguard the authenticity of the same poet’s legacy. Together, these two generations—one digital, one scholarly—embody the global Turkmen community’s quiet resilience.
As Turkmenistan navigates its post-Soviet identity and diaspora families adapt to new homelands, Magtymguly’s poetry—blending Islamic ethics, Sufi wisdom, and calls for unity—emerges as a cultural keystone. Their shared mission: ensuring future generations inherit the language and values of their ancestors.
Who Was Magtymguly Pyragy?
Born in 1724 in modern-day Golestan, Iran, near today’s Turkmenistan border, Magtymguly Pyragy is celebrated as the father of Turkmen literature. A Sufi mystic, he broke with convention by writing in vernacular Turkmen, democratizing poetry for everyday people.
“He tried to bring Turkmenistan together,” Azmun says. “He hated to see the tribes fighting each other.”
After his death in 1807, Magtymguly’s poems were passed down orally and by handwritten copies, surviving tsarist rule and Soviet efforts to reinterpret his legacy. Today, Turkmenistan celebrates him annually on June 27.
A Family’s Digital Classroom
Atakov and his wife, Ogün Gözel Atakova, began their project in 2010 but revived it during the COVID-19 lockdowns. “When we first came to the U.S., we tried to find Turkmen movies and videos for our kids,” Atakova recalls. “There wasn’t much online.”
Enejan, 16, remembers the channel’s early days. “When I was younger, we couldn’t find videos in our own language,” she says. “So, we decided to make them ourselves.”
Today, the channel holds over 1,000 videos. Atakova animates; Atakov recites Magtymguly and other poets; their children teach the alphabet, translate, edit, and record. The channel draws on the family’s deep literary heritage: Atakov’s father, a teacher, filled their Turkmenistan home with poetry; Atakova’s grandfather, a seismologist, amassed a library of Turkmen, Russian, German, and English classics.
“Even though I respect many poets,” says Atakova, “I’ve never seen a poet at [Magtymguly’s] level.”
A Scholar’s Lifelong Crusade
Azmun’s passion began in Iran, where his family preserved Turkmen culture despite geopolitical divides. Now based in Arizona, he works to distinguish Magtymguly’s authentic works from later distortions.
“Very few manuscripts survive from his time,” Azmun says. “The earliest ones, written in Arabic script, were reliable. But the Soviets burned many Arabic-language texts.”
Yusuf Azmun, pictured, has dedicated a career of 60 years, uncovering for newer generations Magtymguly Pyragy and his poetry. In 1995, he published a collection of the poet-singer’s works in Songs From the Steppes of Central Asia.
In the late Soviet period, however, authorities repurposed Magtymguly’s image for propaganda. “They realized he was a philosopher, and they didn’t want to hurt him,” Azmun explains.
The Atakovs also notice misattributions and embellishments. Yet Atakova understands why: “If they hadn’t done it, the Soviets could have erased him completely. Adding to his poems kept his name alive for future generations.”
Magtymguly’s appeal transcends politics and time. “He wrote for everyone—herders, mothers, children,” says Atakov. Their videos pair Magtymguly’s poems with sweeping graphic shots of Turkmenistan, which is popular with both elders and youth.
Azmun notes Magtymguly’s enduring popularity today. His 1990s English collection, Songs From the Steppes of Central Asia, introduced Magtymguly to global audiences. “Like Dante, Magtymguly wrote in the people’s language, not the classical one,” he says.
Navigating Cultural Currents
The family and Azmun carefully avoid politics. Turkmenistan’s government has claimed Magtymguly as a national symbol, erecting statues and holding annual festivals. Creators like the Atakovs focus on promoting culture over ideology. “We want to protect our heritage and language,” says Atakov. “Our videos help people discover older works and bring them to life for this generation.”
Azmun, once honored in Turkmenistan, now works independently. His manuscript on the “real” Magtymguly awaits publication after 60 years of research.
The Atakovs face their own challenge: YouTube’s algorithm does not recognize Turkmen language. Still, their impact quietly grows. “It has a huge effect on Turkmen culture,” says Atakov. “People are learning values and moral awareness through the poems.”
As dusk settles over Texas, Janan practices a poem for the next Milli Miras video, her voice carrying across continents. From Kyiv to Istanbul, viewers tune in to the family’s quiet cultural revolution. In Arizona, Azmun adjusts his lamp over a worn manuscript. Two guardians, separated by distance and age, united in a shared truth: words outlive empires, and the legacy of a people survives in those who keep telling its story.