The Kaiui—also known as fui or be’u in different regions—is a traditional bamboo flute of Timor-Leste, cherished for its gentle, evocative sound that once echoed across rice fields, hilltops, and quiet village evenings. Long associated with solitude, emotional expression, and storytelling, the Kaiui is more than just a musical instrument—it is a vessel of memory and connection.\n\nTraditionally crafted from au-fafulu, a specific type of bamboo, the Kaiui features seven tone holes and is often about the length of a forearm. A key part of its design is the use of a corn cob or similar material to block part of the internal chamber, modifying the flow of air and shaping the distinctive tone. The player blows across the top opening while controlling the pitch with their fingers, producing melodies that are haunting, meditative, and subtly expressive.\n\nFor generations, the Kaiui was used by boys tending livestock in the fields, especially in the early mornings or during midday rest. It was played to pass the time, soothe animals, or simply to ease loneliness. Others used it to express feelings of longing—especially in matters of love, separation, or remembrance. In many communities, the flute is considered a deeply personal instrument, capable of giving voice to emotions that are otherwise difficult to speak.\n\nThe art of playing Kaiui is learned informally, typically by observing and mimicking older siblings, parents, or elders. There is no standard notation; the music lives through imitation, memory, and improvisation. Songs vary from region to region and even from player to player, with some tunes tied to seasonal rhythms or traditional events like sau-batar (harvest ceremonies) or rites of passage.\n\nThe Kaiui also plays a role in certain rituals and ceremonies, where its sound is believed to create a space of calm, welcome ancestral spirits, or accompany reflective moments. Its simple construction and natural materials reflect a worldview grounded in harmony with the environment—a flute made entirely from what the land provides, played under the open sky.\n\nToday, however, the practice of making and playing the Kaiui is increasingly rare. As younger generations turn to electronic music and imported instruments, the quiet music of the bamboo flute is fading from everyday life. In some communities, it survives primarily as a cultural demonstration during festivals or heritage programs.\n\nEfforts to preserve the Kaiui are now underway through workshops, school projects, and intergenerational exchanges. In these spaces, the flute is not only played but celebrated—as a living symbol of Timor-Leste’s musical heritage and a gentle reminder of how sound, memory, and identity are woven together in the simplest of forms.

In the quiet Kazakh village of Zhosaly, the threads of tradition, resilience, and love are being woven together—one knot at a time. At the heart of this story is Bakytgul Raimbaeva, a mother whose personal struggle with her daughter’s illness led to the creation of something extraordinary: “Ansagan,” a school of traditional Kazakh folk crafts for children with disabilities.\n\nWhat began in 2007 with just four girls—including her daughter Ansagan, who had been diagnosed with a painful and incurable skin condition—has grown into a life-changing creative community of more than 130 students. Children who once felt isolated and hopeless now find joy, purpose, and healing through the ancient art of carpet weaving, korpe-making, and felting. Here, they learn to create with their hands, share laughter, and rediscover strength they never knew they had.\n\nGuided by the belief that every thread carries emotion and intention, Bakytgul teaches not just a craft but a philosophy: weave only with positive thoughts, and your creation will carry healing energy. With carpets made using traditional Kazakh methods and designs—like ornék looms, tekemet rugs, and sacred motifs—this grassroots school revives and preserves centuries-old techniques once passed from grandmother to granddaughter.\n\nAmong the pupils are teenagers like Kuralai and Inkar, who have mastered complex weaving skills and find pride in their cultural roots. But at the heart of it all remains the story of a mother's devotion. Miraculously, two years after the school was born, Bakytgul witnessed the impossible—her daughter Ansagan stood up and walked again.\n\nToday, “Ansagan” is more than a workshop—it's a sanctuary of cultural revival, inclusion, and hope. Supported by the village and driven by a passionate mission, Bakytgul continues to teach, inspire, and heal through craft, proving that folk art is not just a legacy of the past, but a force for transformation in the present.