An Ancient Wedding Tale . . . Another Nasreddin Hodja Story

Nasreddin Hodja,  in his humble daily attire,  walked across the village to the wedding celebration.  The greeter at the entrance to the tent, looked at Nasreddin Hodja and would not allow Hodja to enter the wedding reception.  "You can't come in here looking like that!"

Nasreddin Hodja returned home and changed into his finest clothing.  Returning across the village to the wedding tent, Hodja was welcomed.  "Enter, enter, esteemed Nasreddin Hodja!" 

Nasreddin Hodja entered the wedding tent, was escorted to a table, and before him were placed the most elegant of wedding tasties.

With his right hand, Hodja opened the wide left sleeve of his wedding coat, and started pouring food down the sleeve.  

In horror, the guests surrounding him screamed, "Hodja, what are you doing?"

Nasreddin Hodja answered, "I'm feeding my coat.  It's clear that my coat was welcomed at this wedding celebration; not me!"


N.B. Grandpa Peter, born in Marash, would love to tell the tale!

You're right, too! - A favorite Nasreddin Hodja story

You're right! You're right! And you're right, too!  So Peter (an Armenian born in Marash, Western Armenia, in 1912, escaping the devastation of the Armenian genocide of 1915-1922, and living in the USA from the age of 9) would announce, laughing, as he listened to folks arguing about a heart wrenching topic.  (Marash Girl assumes that nothing could be as heart-wrenching or serious as what Peter had survived!)

It wasn't until years later that Marash Girl realized that her father Peter was playing the part of Nasreddin Hoja. . . And here's the story as told by her Turkish friend.

Two folks came to Nasreddin Hoja who was a Kadi (Judge) at the time.  They each presented their case.  Nasreddin Hoja tuned to the first and said, "You're right!"  After the second presented his case, Nasredding Hoja replied, "You're right!"  

"They can't both be right!" exclaimed an onlooker.

"And you're right too!" affirmed Nasreddin Hodja.

Marash Girl decided to go to the internet to see if she could find this ancient story, and she did: 

"Everyone is right!

Once when Nasreddin Hodja was serving as qadi, one of his neighbors came to him with a complaint against a fellow neighbor.
The Hodja listened to the charges carefully, then concluded, "Yes, dear neighbor, you are quite right."
Then the other neighbor came to him. The Hodja listened to his defense carefully, then concluded, "Yes, dear neighbor, you are quite right."
The Hodja's wife, having listened in on the entire proceeding, said to him, "Husband, both men cannot be right."
The Hodja answered, 'Yes, dear wife, you are quite right.'"

Deron found his note! (with a nod to Nasreddin Hodja)

Deron, as the proverbial best man,  always tells (at the weddings of his best friends) the traditional tale of Nasreddin Hodja playing the violin.  Today, Marash Girl retells that story in honor of Deron's good news!

Nasreddin Hodja often sat in the marketplace playing his violin. He would always play the same note on his violin, over and over again.  Every time folks passed him in the marketplace, they would find  Nasreddin Hodja, and yes, never would it vary; he would be playing his violin,  playing the same note over and over again.  Finally, a passerby stopped and said to the Hodja, "Hodja, every time I come to the marketplace, you are playing your violin, but unlike the other  "chalgujus",  you always play the same note, over and over again.  Why is that?"  The Hodja looked up at the passerby, paused, and answered, "I have found my note; the others are still looking for theirs!"

Congratulations, Deron, on having found your note, and such a lovely note at that!

Kurt Warner, Tim Tebow, Tom Krattenmaker: A Lesson from Nasreddin Hodja

In his introduction to Onward Christian Athletes: Turning Ballparks into Pulpits & Players into Preachers,  (Rowman & Littlfield Publishers, Inc., 2010) author Tom Krattenmaker notes that sports figure Kurt Warner of the Arizona Cardinals and other Christian athletes (read Tebow here) who give glory to the Lord whenever their team wins,  "have not a word to say about their Lord" when their team loses, "suggesting that the religious obligation to proclaim Jesus belongs only to the victors." Krattenmaker's observation brought to mind an old Nasreddin Hodja story.

Nasreddin Hodja is walking along the road without his donkey, singing God's praises.  A passerby asks him why he is singing God's praises.  Nasreddin Hodja answers, "I am singing God's praises because my donkey is lost."  The passerby, confused, asks, "If you have lost your donkey, why are you singing God's praises?"  Nasreddin Hodja looks at the passerby, wondering how the man could ask such a question.  "I am singing God's praises because if I were riding on my donkey, I, too, would be lost."

Athletes of today just may have a lesson to learn from Hodja Nasreddin.

NASREDDIN HODJA AND THE POT THAT GAVE BIRTH

Antique Armenian Lined Copper Gazan (ղազան)

In this season of festivities, Marash Girl always needs

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large gazans (ղազան), pots large enough to make boulghour pilaf, lentil pilaf, chick pea salad, and tortellini salad for 100.  Ruminating on this fact brought to mind a favorite story of Marash Girl's Marashtsi relatives, a story oft-told in Turkish by her father Peter.  Here goes in English.

One day, Nasreddin Hodja borrowed a large pot from his neighbor.  After a week, he returned the pot to his neighbor with a tiny pot inside.  

The neighbor, surprised, held up the small pot and asked, "What's this? 
 

"Oh," replied Hodja, "the pot had a baby." 

The neighbor, delighted that Hodja was crazy enough to believe that a pot could have a  baby, carried the large pot and the baby pot home with him.  

A week later, Hodja borrowed the large pot again. The neighbor was happy to lend Hodja the pot. . . But this time, Hodja did not return the pot.  

The neighbor went to Hodja's house looking for his large pot: "Where's my pot?" he asked, annoyed.

"The pot died," intoned Hodja.

"Died?" shouted the neighbor. . . "How can a pot die?"  

"If a pot can have a baby, a pot can die!" chuckled Hodja.

Nasreddin Hodja at the Bath House (Hoca at the Hamam)

My favorite Nasreddin Hodja story was told to me by my father who was an Armenian born in Kumbet, Marash, Ottoman Empire. The story goes like this.

Popular image of Nasreddin Hodja riding backwards on his donkey

One day, Nasreddin Hodja went to the bath house (hamam); after his bath and his lunch, he went to stretch out and nap on one of the cots.  As he looked around the room at the other men stretched out after their bath (sans clothing), he noticed that everyone in the room looked the same -- black hair, black beard, etc., etc.  What shall I do? Nasreddin asked himself.  If I fall asleep, when I wake up, how will I know which one is me?  I have an idea, he said.  I'll tie this little eggplant to my big toe.  That way, waking up, when I look around and see the eggplant tied to my toe, I'll know that that's me.  Comforted by this thought, Hodja proceeded to tie the eggplant to his big toe, and stretching out, he fell asleep.  While he was sleeping, his friends decided to play a joke on him.  Careful not to awaken Hodja, they untied the eggplant from Hodja's toe, and tied the eggplant onto the big toe of the fellow stretched out on the next cot. 

When Hodja woke up, he looked around for the eggplant, and seeing it on the toe of the man stretched out on the cot next to him, he pointed to the man  and said, "Now, I know that that's me, but then who am I?"

N.B. Although when my father told this story, Nasreddin Hodja tied the eggplant onto his big toe, I suspect the original story may have had Hodja tying the eggplant elsewhere on his anatomy.

Nasreddin Hodja Rides Out the Tornado on top of Wilbraham Mountain

 Albeit on the back of a donkey, and sitting backwards, Nasreddin Hodja rides out the tornado, and here's the photo to prove it!  Hiding under the timbers of the no longer cabin, there he was, waving happily and sharing his wisdom.  I couldn't hear what he was saying, but perhaps you can!  Please share in the comments below Nasreddin Hodja's tale, the one he's telling after surviving this tornado.

Nasreddin Hodja Heads for the Cemetery!

Image courtesy of  http://www.banet.free-online.co.uk

One day, Nasreddin Hodja arrives home to find his neighbors all upset.

Hodja, your house has been robbed, and the robber went that way!

Hodja starts running in the opposite direction.

Hodja, we told you that the robber went that way.  Why are you running in the opposite direction?

Hodja answers, I'm running to the cemetery.  I know for certain that the robber will end up there some day!

Me or My Donkey: A call for your favorite Nasreddin Hodja stories!

Image courtesy of http://www.banet.free-online.co.uk

Marash Girl's granddaughter has become enamored with the stories of Nasreddin Hodja.  Hours were spent sharing these stories on the Outer Banks of North Carolina -- certainly a long way from Anatolia . . .  

Her favorite follows.

When Hodja's neighbor asks to borrow Hodja's donkey, Hodja answers, "Sorry, somebody else has already borrowed my donkey." At that very moment the donkey hee-haws and the neighbor hears and says, "Eh, What do you mean? I can even hear the donkey hee-hawing!" "Well," answers Hodja, "who do you believe, me or my donkey?"

Please record your favorite Nasreddin Hodja story in the comments below!

Nasreddin Hodja: Madzoon մածուն (Yogurt) in a Disappearing Lake?

Miniature of Nasreddin Hodja, 17th Century, Topkapi Palace Museum Library Cat. No. 2142. Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

I was telling a friend about my madzoon adventure when he related the following Nasreddin Hodja story (which I remember my father telling me a very long time ago):

Nasreddin Hodja was throwing madzoon into a lake.  When passersby asked what he was doing, he said, "Making madzoon," (or yogurt -- depending on who's telling the story).  The onlookers chided Nasreddin Hodja:  Are you crazy? Madzoon can never take hold in a lake!  But, said Nasreddin Hodja, what if it does?

Image credit: www.u.c.s.blu.ac.il

Looking through the internet for confirmation of this story, I found an article dated August 21, 2007, reporting with concern that the lake into which (tradition says) Nasreddin Hoja threw madzoon, Lake Akşehir [a few kilometers northwest of Akşehir town in the central Anatolian city of Konya] once covered approximately 200 square miles, and now covers only 6 square miles with a depth of about 20 inches.

I wonder.  Would the lake turn to madzoon if Nasreddin Hodja tried today?