Friday, June 29: Bandersnatches
BANDERSNATCH IN THE RAIN
by Steven Steinbock
Time for another break from my rundown of favorite mystery anthologies. I’ll be back next week with two more mystery collections to critique. But for now, some thoughts on short-shorts. (No, not hot-pants). Short stories that are really short, also known as “flash fiction.†Stories that run a thousand words or less. As a kid I read a lot of Donald Sobol’s books. In addition to the “Encyclopedia Brown†series, he did several “Two-Minute Mystery†collections. Around that time I discovered the brief tales of Saki (H.H. Munro).
Short-shorts of the mystery and detective persuasion are usually puzzle tales with the key clue hidden in plain sight within the short narrative. But in – and beyond – the realm of crime fiction there is another kind of short-short: what I like to think of as vignettes with punch-lines. These aren’t jokes, per se, but they pack a punch. Some are subtle, and others shift your paradigm so fast you have to change your pants.
My favorite short-short is not a mystery at all. At least not the kind of mystery with crimes and detectives. It’s an old, possibly even ancient Sufi tale featuring the wise fool, Nasrudin.
Originating somewhere around Turkey, Afghanistan, or Persia, Nasrudin is a character featured in hundreds of itty-bitty stories that are as much jokes as they are lessons. This simple-minded, empty-headed, donkey-riding fool cuts through the dung-heap of intellect to get to the very heart of the matter, whatever the matter happens to be. He’s part jester, part idiot, part trickster, and all oxymoron.
Last week I celebrated my third retirement from teaching. Back in 1991, I retired the first time when we moved to Maine and I got a contract to write a book. My own kids came along around the time of the first book, and I was a stay-at-home dad for almost a decade. Then a need in the community came up and I got talked into taking it. After two years I retired again. The second and third books came out around then. (The books, by the way, aren’t mysteries. They’re not even fiction. But that’s another story). My next teaching position came along when the small private parochial school my younger son was attending needed a Hebrew teacher. Maine doesn’t have a whole lot of qualified Hebrew teachers, so after a bit of arm twisting, I took the job. My writing suffered. But more significantly, my brain began to hurt from the kvetching of the kids. (Kids don’t have to attend a Jewish school to kvetch. But at a Jewish school you usually don’t have to explain the word “kvetchâ€). They don’t like homework. They don’t like listening. They can’t be bothered helping or sharing with their classmates. Most of all, they don’t like being bored, and nearly everything that can’t be played on a game-console is boring.
Whenever I get an earful of complaints, I stop what I’m doing and ask the culprit, “And what are you contributing to the problem of keeping dry?â€
That response usually stops them in their tracks, either because they’ve heard the story before, or they’re baffled by my non sequitur. It’s like when one of my own kids is sitting just ten feet from the refrigerator complaining that he’s thirsty. “God gave you legs,†I tell him. “Now get off your butt and get your own milk!†Why kvetch when the solution is within your own powers?
Here’s the story:
The Mulla Nasrudin was invited to the hunting lodge of a wealthy landowner. When they set out to hunt, the host climbed on his grand Arabian stallion, gave horses to the other members of the hunting party, but left Nasrudin to lag behind on an old lame horse. Soon, the wealthy man’s horse had outpaced Nasrudin’s and they lost sight of each other. It began to rain. Nasrudin climbed off his nag, took off all his clothes, tucked his garments safely under the saddle, and climbed back onto the horse. When he arrived back at the hunting lodge, the rain had just stopped, so he put his clothes back on and entered. The host and the other guests were soaked to the skin. Stunned at how Nasrudin stayed dry, the men all asked why their fast horses couldn’t dodge the rain.
“It must be the horse you gave me,†explained Nasrudin.
The following day, the devious host gave his own stallion to Nasrudin to ride, and took the old nag for himself. Again the skies opened up and a downpour began. Again, Nasrudin stripped off his clothes, stuffed them under the saddle, and rode on until lunchtime when he returned to the lodge, dry and happy.
The host was shivering from the dampness and cold, even more wet than he’d been the day before. Furious, he shouted at Nasrudin, “YOU made me ride this terrible horse, and not LOOK at me. My robes, my hair, and my cold. It’s all YOU’RE fault.â€
Nasrudin surveyed the situation and responded, “And what are you contributing to the problem of keeping dry?â€
That’s the story. I’ve finished my column. It’s stopped raining. Now I can put my clothes back on.
I loved that story! And it is so true…so many people just don’t think ahead. Personally, I’ve seen a lot of “Sesame Street” and one segment (it’s been a while and I am paraphrasing big-time here) was the king wanted a picnic, so he told everyone to go home and bring something back for the picnic. They scurried off and soon everyone returned holding watermelons. The king says, “We can’t eat just watermelon! We’ll need
fried chicken.” So everyone scurried off and soon they all returned with chicken. “This won’t work,” the king said. At this time, a lowly subject suggests the king plan his picnic. “Aha!”says the king. He now directs each person to bring a different item for the picnic. Soon they all have everything for a complete meal. So, in our family, we are always asking, “Did you plan your picnic?” Thanks for sharing, Steven. I will definitely remember that story.
Oh, I love Nasrudin. I even wrote a song about the story in which he falls into an open grave and assumes he must be dead.
One argument is that the model for Nasrudin was a wise man who taught by appearing foolish. (Not so unique;there are elements of that in St. Francis, Judaism’s Reb Zisha, and of course, Socrates claimed he knew nothing.)
A friend of mine spent a few years in Afghanistan. He said at least once a day someone told him a Nasrudin story, always to make a point, and most of the stories were so far from Western thought that he couldn’t tell when the punchline arrived.
Anansi the Spider is another cousin of Nasrudin. While Nasrudin is a Muslim character, he isn’t Arabian. In Arab cultures as well as in Sephardic Jewish communities, you find a character called Joha (with emphasis on the “ha” – take that any way you like).
I’ve heard Nasrudin pronounced two different ways:
naz-ROO-dÉ™n and naz-roo-DEEN. I’m not sure which is more authentic, but I’m banking on the second.
He’s also known as Nasreddin Hodja. (I assume “Hodja” means “the pilgrim” i.e. one who has visited Mecca.
Thanks for everyone’s comments.
Rob, I have to hear your song about Nasrudin in the grave!
Steve, send your home address to lopresti@nas.com and when I get back from vacation I will send you a recording.
The Library of Congress chose Nasreddin Hoca as the official subject heading but provides See references (library jargon meaning if you type X you are told to go to Y instead) for Nasreddin Hodja, Nasrettin Hoca, Nasrudin Hodza, Mulla Nasrudin, etc. Because the guy was known from Aghanistan to Egypt his name went through many variations.
Of course his relatives also include the Wise Men of Chelm (in Jewish tradition) and the Wise Men of Gotham (in England). Here in Bellingham the Jewish community sometimes refers to our town as BellinghChelm.
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