Dr. Kristopher White dies in the US
KIMEP’s campus was left in profound silence after students, faculty and staff learned that one of its faculty members of more than 20 years died.
Dr. Kristopher White leaves a legacy as a mentor, colleague, and friend who will continue to resonate within the hearts of those he taught and worked alongside.
Known for his dedication, humor, and heartfelt care for others, his impact reached far beyond the classroom. His last name, fittingly, mirrored his essence — people say he was just as bright as his surname suggests. Tragically, he passed away while visiting his parents, a reminder of the deep connections he maintained with his loved ones. Details on his death were not available.
People collectively said he was not only an extraordinary professor but also a beloved figure — someone who lived for others and always made room for laughter and understanding in every moment.
His passing was met with deep sorrow across the KIMEP community, yet those who knew him best find comfort in the memories he left behind. White was the kind of person who made others feel seen, heard, and valued.
Nurlan Kemalkhan, a third-year student who had been under White’s mentorship, said conversations felt as natural as if we were sitting together, exchanging memories.
“He was always joking, making the most serious topics seem so light,” Kemelkhan said. “He never just read from a presentation. He made sure we understood every concept, even when we were struggling.”
White, who taught digital photography last semester before taking this spring semester off as a sabbatical, had a habit of using Kazakh phrases — alga, zhanym — bridging the gap between professor and student with humor and familiarity. Even his small gestures of care spoke volumes — he would bring in a special chair for his back problems, and despite his own discomfort, he was always focused on his students’ well-being.
Before their last class together, White had advised his students, “Take care of your health, guys.”
A simple remark that now carries an unexpected weight.
In a bittersweet final conversation, Kemalkhan said, “Rakhmet, Professor White, tek alga.” (Thank you, Professor White, only forward.)
For Meerim Izabekova, a graduate who studied under White years ago, speaking about him brought back memories of that time. Izabekova said White’s support was a lifeline during one of the hardest moments of her life.
“When my grandmother unexpectedly passed away during the pandemic, I was in shock,” she said. Despite the emotional turmoil, White’s thoughtful emails gave her comfort and helped her through the grieving process.
“He was one of the few who reached out with such genuine care, offering support when I needed it the most,” she said.
For some students, his photography class became an unexpected form of therapy.
“It was a distraction, something to focus on,” Izabekova said. She spent hours walking around her grandmother’s house, taking pictures of the smallest details — light streaming through windows, reflections, and everyday objects.
“I remember capturing the light in the garden, experimenting with everything I could,” she said. “It helped me cope,”
White’s encouragement to experiment creatively, without fear of failure, allowed her to find peace amidst the chaos.
Izabekova also said that his feedback wasn’t focused on grades but on the emotional connection to the work.
“He made it clear that the process was more important than the product, and that gave me the freedom to explore,” she said
“His compassion made a real difference in my life during a very difficult time,” she said.
Prof. Francis Amagoh, dean of public administration, and close colleague of White’s, said the two shared a long working relationship at KIMEP, and his admiration for White as a friend and scholar grew over time.
“I met Chris in 2005,” Amagoh said. “He arrived a year before I did, and from the very start, he was such a warm and welcoming presence. He showed me around the campus and even introduced me to parts of the city I hadn’t known. He was always looking out for others, especially for newcomers.”
But what stood out most was not just White’s generosity but the humor and lightness he brought to everything.
“Kris had this incredible ability to make complex ideas so accessible, and he did it with jokes, with stories,” Amagoh said. “His classes were always filled with laughter. Students loved him. They flocked to his lectures because he didn’t just teach them — he engaged them.”
When asked about their last conversation, Amagoh paused, and for a moment, there was a distant sadness in his eyes.
“The last time we spoke, I told him, ‘Kris, why don’t you come back in August? I’m keeping the seat of the chair warm for you.’ And he just smiled and said, ‘Oh, Francis, no problem. Just keep it warm. Keep it…’ That was it. Those were the last words he said to me.”
“They say very good people don’t last too long,” he said. “And that’s true for Kris. He was taken too soon.”
But despite the pain, Amagoh shared a small comfort.
“It’s probably better that he passed away well with his people. It would have been worse if he had passed away here, you understand? So, that’s probably the only silver lining to look at. Maybe, if we can call it a positive way to look at it.”
“The only thing I know is that he’s always laughing,” Amagoh said. “He’d always make this funny face when you say something.”
Rest in Peace, Professor White.