Issyk Kurgan

Listen for a moment. Wind moves through dry grass, and somewhere a bird calls from the poplars. Under your feet the ground rises gently, a soft green swell against the blue wall of mountains to the south. It looks like an ordinary hill. It is not. This rounded mound was raised by human hands more than two thousand years ago, and it held one of the most remarkable discoveries ever made on the Eurasian steppe.

You are standing at Issyk Kurgan, near the town of Esik, east of Almaty. A kurgan is a burial mound, a grave covered by a great heap of earth and stone. Mounds like this one are scattered across the foothills here, and this area is part of a much larger ancient cemetery. Look around and you may notice other low swellings in the land. Each one marks a person who mattered to the people who buried them.

The people behind these mounds are known as the Saka. They were nomadic horse-riding tribes of the Iron Age, related in culture to the Scythians, who lived further west across the steppe. The Saka moved with their herds between summer pastures in the mountains and winter grounds in the valleys. They left no cities. What they left instead was this: earth, gold, and a way of honouring the dead that still shapes how Kazakhstan sees itself today.

The story of the excavation begins in 1969. Local construction work brought attention to the mound, and a team of archaeologists led by Kemal Akishev began to dig. The central burial chamber, they found, had been robbed long ago, probably in antiquity. Grave robbers knew these mounds well. For a while, it looked like the familiar story of an emptied tomb. But the robbers had missed something.

To the side of the main chamber lay a second burial, built of timber logs. It had stayed untouched for more than two thousand years. Inside was a skeleton dressed in a costume covered with thousands of small pieces of gold. Plaques, beads, and tiny figures had once been sewn onto clothing, boots, and a belt. When the fabric rotted away, the gold stayed exactly where it had been placed. Archaeologists could therefore rebuild the outfit almost piece by piece.

This figure became known as the Golden Man. Here is the first thing many visitors miss: the mound itself is the real place of discovery. Most people know the Golden Man from museum displays in Almaty or Astana, or from the statue at the top of the Independence Monument in Almaty's central square. That statue stands high above the city. But the story started here, in this quiet field, under this unremarkable hill.

The most striking part of the costume is the headdress. It was tall and pointed, rising far above the head, and decorated with gold arrows, mountain plants, and animal figures. Winged horses, mountain goats, and snow leopards appear in the gold work. This is the so-called animal style of steppe art, where animals twist, leap, and curl into compact shapes. For the Saka, these creatures likely carried meaning about power, protection, and the link between earth and sky.

Scholars date the burial roughly to the fourth or third century before the common era, although the exact date is still discussed. The person in the tomb was young, probably a teenager or someone in their late teens. And here is the second surprise. Not everyone agrees that the Golden Man was a man at all. Some researchers argue that the remains and the grave goods could belong to a young woman, perhaps a warrior or a priestess. The bones were poorly preserved, so the debate remains open.

Another object from the tomb deepens the mystery. Among the grave goods was a small silver bowl with a short inscription scratched into it. It is a line of characters in a script that nobody has convincingly deciphered. Some scholars have proposed readings, but none is generally accepted. So in this grave lies one of the earliest examples of writing found in this part of Central Asia, and we still cannot read what it says.

Now look again at the mound in front of you. Its shape was not an accident. Builders piled up layers of earth and stone over the wooden chamber, creating a hill that would stand out across the open plain. For nomads, who travelled long distances, such mounds were landmarks. They told passing riders that an important family held this land. Even today, the profile of the kurgan is easy to see from a distance against the flat valley floor.

Near the burial ground there is a museum devoted to the site and to Saka culture. Inside, you can see reconstructions of the costume and objects that help you picture what lay beneath the earth. Seeing the gold after standing beside the mound gives it a different weight. The objects stop being treasure in a glass case. They become the belongings of one young person, carefully dressed for a long journey.

After the discovery, the Golden Man grew into a national symbol. When Kazakhstan became independent in the 1990s, this figure from the steppe past offered a powerful image of deep roots on this land. You will find the Golden Man on monuments, in schoolbooks, and on souvenirs. Locals often speak of it with real pride. Few archaeological finds have travelled so far from the excavation trench into everyday national life.

Before you leave, take a slow walk around the base of the mound. Notice the grass, the small stones in the soil, and the line of the Zailiysky Alatau mountains rising to the south. Think of the riders who once crossed this valley and saw this hill on the horizon. The gold has gone to the museums. But the mound remains, quiet and patient, holding its shape in the wind... just as it has for more than two thousand years.