Photo shows Nurdong Simayi checks a musical instrument. (Photo by Shiliuyun-Xinjiang Daily/ Song Haibo)

Nurdong's home doubles as a miniature museum of musical craftsmanship. Recognized as an autonomous-region-level inheritor of intangible cultural heritage for instrument making, he works amid blocks of wood, planes, saws, and chisels lay scattered across the floor, while the walls display a vibrant collection of handcrafted instruments including Tamburs, Dutars, Rawaps, and more. At that moment, he was shaping the soundbox of a Dutar from mulberry wood, his weathered hands moving with practiced ease.

"I grew up watching my father make instruments. Even on weekends and holidays from school, I hurried home to help make instruments," Nurdong shared. Decades later, he still finds joy in the craft. "Instrument-making demands patience. Some might call it dull or even risky, but to me, it's deeply rewarding." Early on, the stubborn hardness of mulberry wood meant each chisel strike had to be precise, one slip left a lasting scar on his hand. Yet Nurdong persevered, honing his skills until he became the village's finest luthier.

Photo shows Nurdong Simayi strings a Dutar. (Photo by Shiliuyun-Xinjiang Daily/ Song Haibo)

"I can craft over twenty different instruments, namely Tambur, Dutar, Rawap, Guitar, Dombra, erhu," Nurdong said with pride. Each instrument demands meticulous workmanship. The Tanbur alone requires carefully selected materials, a hand-carved soundbox, and delicate ornamentation. "The soundbox makes all the difference," he explained, "It must be hollowed from one solid piece of mulberry wood." The master craftsman runs his fingers along the wood's surface. "See how smooth the grain is? The density stays even throughout. That's why it carves well and rarely cracks." He believes instrument making requires barehanded precision. "You must feel every ripple in the wood, just like musicians feel their strings. Gloves would dull your touch." His leathery palms, rough from decades of work, testify to this philosophy.

Among Nurdong's many apprentices is 36-year-old Amat Ahat, who has apprenticed for over a decade. "My master showed me the soul of this craft," Amat reflected. "Once I understood that, I knew this was my life's work." More than a hundred young artisans like him have come from neighboring regions to learn this traditional craft. Nurdong patiently guides them through each step from choosing wood to shaping soundboxes to tuning strings. Though Amat now runs his own workshop and handles tools with impressive skill, certain challenges still send him back to his master. When struggling with stubborn strings or temperamental aged wood, he'll carry his unfinished instruments across the village, kneeling beside Nurdong to learn once more.

Photo shows a child watches Nurdong Simayi make musical instruments. (Photo by Shiliuyun-Xinjiang Daily/ Song Haibo)

Jiayi Village is home to many skilled craftsmen like Nurdong, with over a third of families specializing in handcrafted musical instruments. With government support in recent years, the village has adopted an innovative "tourism + cooperative + households" approach. The local instrument-making cooperative now maintains consistent quality standards, holds registered trademarks, and has developed broader distribution networks. These efforts help share their beautiful music with wider audiences while boosting the community's prosperity.

"I've devoted my life to this craft," Nurdong reflected. "Seeing the delight on visitors' and musicians' faces when they play our instruments, whether they're from Xinjiang or beyond, that's all the reward I need. Nothing compares to that joy."

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