This story by Anastasia Pestova originally appeared on Global Voices on November 28, 2025.
Bashkiria is one of those regions of Russia where the past remains palpably alive. It lingers in the vast steppe landscape, in the melodic intonations of the language, in the way people greet one another, in traditions that have never been relegated to museum shelves. The Indigenous people of the area, the Bashkirs, have for centuries preserved a unique system of clan-based associations, each with its own land, origin legends, and ancestral tamgas — symbols that can still be found in crafts, on flags, and in heraldry.
A Turkic people, the Bashkirs make up the Indigenous population of Bashkortostan — one of the largest ethnic groups in Russia, numbering around 1.6 million. Today, Bashkir identity is experiencing a renewed surge of interest, especially among youth. Some learn the language through online courses, others return to their home villages for the holidays, and some head to ritaiym gatherings in Ufa to hear the kurai (a traditional wind instrument), taste kumis, and feel once again that tradition is not a forgotten chapter of history but a living presence.
A new season of Samauryly Ritaiym — the samovar dances — has kicked off in the capital of Bashkortostan. What began five years ago as an informal gathering of barely a dozen young people on Ufa’s riverfront, sharing tea and music, has since grown into vibrant events that draw more than 2,000 participants. Why have these parties become so compelling to young people, and what makes them a place where people of different ethnic backgrounds come together?
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Along the Agidel River embankment in Ufa, the soft, resonant notes of the kurai float through the misty air. A large samovar stands beside an improvised stage, while volunteers clear a space for a bonfire. Young women in traditional Bashkir dresses spread a tablecloth, arrange plates of chak-chak, and set bottles of kumis on the table. Some of the young men wear fur-trimmed Bashkir hats with fox tails; others have brought flags of the Republic of Bashkortostan. Despite the light drizzle, people follow the sound of music and within minutes, hundreds of young people have gathered.
Tea gatherings around a samovar are a long-standing tradition in Bashkir villages, but scenes like this were once unheard of in the republic’s cities. On June 17, 2020, no more than 15 people showed up for the very first samovar dances along Ufa’s riverfront. “Hosting a tea gathering in an urban setting felt both authentic and full of potential,” recalls Rustam Abdrazakov, one of the initiators of the samovar discos. “I invited my friends and everyone loved it. We lit the samovar, sang songs, danced. Before long, we started meeting more often, and each time the crowd grew larger and larger.”
Samovar gatherings take place on Wednesday evenings every other week. Abdrazakov believes these dance-filled meetups are essential for young people from Bashkir villages who move to Ufa for university and gradually switching to speaking Russian, having grown self-conscious about their native language. Besides, he adds, these events are an excellent way to make friends: “During ritaiym, young people spend three to four hours speaking freely in their native language. Over the past five years, about 12 or 13 couples have formed this way; they now come with their children. Urban Bashkir youth who barely speak the language start to show interest again — in the language, in the culture, in the music.”
If the first samovar gatherings in Ufa attracted fewer than 50 people, today they draw up to 1,000; sometimes even more. Dance groups, bloggers, and musicians are invited to these tea parties, where residents drink tea, sample beshbarmak, read poetry, and sing both traditional and contemporary songs in the Bashkir language.
Alina Zagidullina, who hails from Ufa, first learned about ritaiym on social media after leaving Russia in 2022. Once she returned, she began attending the gatherings. “I regretted not paying attention to Bashkir culture earlier. Then I came back — and fell in love! I was struck by the fact that people sing not only folk songs but also pick up tracks by contemporary artists. The core value here is, of course, preserving culture and language, because most of the participants are young and they will pass all this on to their children,” she explains.
Another regular at the samovar parties, Idel Gumerov appreciates the fact that young people have fun without alcohol — and that everything is free. For him, these tea gatherings have become a pleasant pastime that brightens the work week.
Today, samovar gatherings are held even in remote towns across Bashkiria, and videos from Ufa’s riverfront rack up thousands of views. Yet, it remains unclear whether these parties receive any government support. The organizers insist the events are funded entirely by donations and dismiss questions about official backing as “provocative.” The regional Ministry of Culture also maintains that it has nothing to do with the samovar discos.
“That’s exactly why everyone comes here, regardless of age or nationality,” surmised Tansulpan Burakaeva, founder of a Bashkir-language study club. “The moment the state takes over this initiative, it will be immediately used for propaganda.”
To Burakaeva, these dance-filled tea gatherings are a form of nostalgia and a revival of an old tradition: “In Bashkir villages, kiske uyn, or külägä, or ritaiym was a traditional event where young people met each other, where everyone could unwind after a long working day — and during wartime or other moments of tragedy, people released their pain through dancing, through typyrlau (stomping dances). That’s why today’s ritaiym, revived by a group of activists, has become so popular.”
Not everyone, however, is thrilled about the energetic dancing in the city. Under posts mentioning Samauyrly Ritaiym in the media, some commenters call the festivities inappropriate in light of ongoing events following Russia's invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Others counter that “living in a constant atmosphere of war is unbearable — people need some way to take their minds off things.”
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