Leonid Soloviev

Tale of Hoja Nasreddina

Outtitude calm

Memory of my unforgettable friend Mumin Adilov, who died on April 18, 1930 in the Mountain Kislak, Nanai from a sub-enemy bullet, dedicate, awe in his net memory, this book.

It had many people and many features of Khoju Nasreddin - a selfless love for the people, courage, honest rabivation and noble trick, - and when I wrote this book, more than once it seemed to me in the night silence that his shadow stands behind my chair and sends my pen.

He is buried in Kanibadam. I visited his grave recently; Children played around a hill that swords of spring grass and flowers, and he slept eternal sleep and did not respond to the calls of my heart ...

PART ONE

CHAPTER FIRST

Thirty-fifth year of his life Khoja Nasreddin met on the way.

For more than ten years he spent in exile, wandering from the city to the city, from one country to another, crossing the sea and the desert, spending the night with a scanty shepherd fire, or in a close caravansea, where in the dusty darkness until the morning Sigh and scratch camels and chuck can be thrilled, or in Chadnaya, smoked teahouse, among the underlying visits of waterpashers, beggars, chasters, and other poor people, with the onset of dawn filling their piercing screams and narrow swallow cities. It was often possible to spend the night and on soft silk pillows in a harem of some Iranian Velmazb, who just went on this night with the squad of the guards on all teahouses and the caravan sheds, looking for a vagabath and blasphemy Goju Nasreddin to put it on the count ... Through the window grille, a narrow strip of the sky was visible, the stars were pale, the preliminary breeze easily and gently noisy in foliage, on the windowsill began to stop and clean the feathers of funny Gorylinka. And Khoja Nasreddin, kissing a tired beauty, said:

It's time. Goodbye, my incomparable pearl, and do not forget me.

Wait! She answered, washing beautiful hands on his neck. - Do you leave at all? But why? Listen, tonight, when it is dark, I will again send an old woman after you. - Not. I have long forgotten the time when I spent two nights in a row under one roof. We must go, I am very hurry.

Go? Do you have any urgent matters in another city? Where are you going to go?

I do not know. But already lights, the city gate has already opened and moved the first caravans into the path. You hear - razl bubbles ring! When this sound comes to me, then like Gina will put up in my legs, and I can't stop in place!

Leave, if so! - angrily spoke beauty, trying in vain to hide tears shining on her long eyelashes. - But tell me at least my name for goodbye.

Do you want to know my name? Listen, you spent the night with Khoja Nasreddin! I am Khoja Nasreddin, a perturbator of calm and a sower of contention, the one that screams daily to heralds on all squares and bazaars, promising a big reward for his head. Yesterday they promised three thousand fogs, and I even thought - not to sell me my own head for such a good price. You're laughing, my asterisk, well, let me rather than your lips for the last time. If I could, it would give you emerald, but I don't have an emerald, "take this simple white pebble pebbles!

He pulled his torn robe, burned in many places the sparks of the road bonfire, and retarded slowly. Behind the door loudly snores lazy, stupid eunuch in a chalme and soft shoes with curved upstairs - the negligent guard of the main thing in the Treasure Palace, trusted to him. Further, the rotor on the carpets and the cats, snore the guards, putting the heads on their nude Yatganas. Khoja Nasreddin rushed on tiptoe by, and always safely, as if he had become invisible at this time.

And again rang, he smoked a white rocky road under the wrestling hooves of His Ishak. Above the world in the blue sky shone the sun; Khoja Nasreddin could not squint to look at him. Rosistic fields and fruitless deserts, where they whiten the camel bones are whites, green gardens and foam rivers, gloomy mountains and green pastures, heard the song of Khoju Nasreddin. He lealed farther and farther, without looking back, without sorry about left and not fearing what she was waiting ahead.

And in the abandoned city forever there was a memory of him.

Velmazby and Mullah pale from rage, hearing his name; Waterons, traffickers, weales, mids and saddles, gathering in the evenings in teahouses, told funny stories about his adventures, of which he always went out by the winner; Tomny beauty in a harem often looked at the white pebbles and hid it in a pearl string, having heard the steps of his master.

UV! - spoke to the thick noise and, puffy and snot, began to paint his brocade bathrobe. - We all completely angry with this damned vagabol Khoja Nasreddin: he outstretched and waving all the state! I received a letter from my old friend, a respected ruler of the Khorasansky district. To think only - barely, this tramp Hoja Nasreddin appeared in his city, as the blacksmiths have stopped paying taxes, and the Kharcheven detectors refused to feed the guards. Moreover, this thief, the ocker of Islam and the Son of Sin, dared to climb into the harem of the Khorasan ruler and discount his beloved wife! Truly, the world has not yet understood such a criminal! I regret that this despicable breakman did not try to penetrate my harem, and then his head would have been tangling in the midst of the main square in the middle of the main square!

The beauty was silent, smiled slammedly, "she was funny and sad. And the road has risen, smyshawned under the hooves. And the song of Khoju Nasreddin sounded. During ten years, he visited everywhere: in Baghdad, Istanbul and Tehran, in Bakhchisara, Echmiadzin and Tbilisi, in Damascus and Trapezund, he knew all these cities and a great many other things, and everywhere he left the memory.

Now he returned to his hometown, in Bukhara and Sheriff, to the noble Bukhara, where he expected, hiding under a stranger name, relax a little from endless wandering.

Chapter Second

By joining a large merchant caravan, Khoja Nasreddin crossed the Bukhar border and on the eighth day the path saw the familiar minarets of the Great, glorious city in a dusty Molle.

The hoarsely shouted the caravanchildren exhausted and heat, camels added to the step: the sun was already sitting, and it was necessary to hurry to enter the Bukhara earlier than the city gate would close. Hodya Forest Ding was driving in a caravan tale itself, shrouded in a thick heavy cloud of dust; It was native, sacred dust; It seemed to him that she smells better than the dust of other, distant lands. Sneezing and flipping off, he spoke to his Icyc:

Well, here we are finally at home. Allah swear, luck and happiness are expecting us here.

The caravan approached the urban wall just at that moment when the guards locked the gate. "Wait, in the name of Allah!" - Created a caravan-Bashi, showing published a gold coin. But the gate has already closed, the deposits fell with clanging, and clock steel on the towers near the guns. I pulled out a cool wind, in the foggy sky rogged the pink gleam and clearly designated a thin sickle of the young month, and in twilight silence from all countless minarets, the high, broach and sad voices of Muzhnov, called Muslims for Evening Prayer.

The merchants and caravanters became kneeling, and Khoja Nasreddin with His Ishak moved slowly to the side.

These merchants are for what to thank Allah: they have lunch today and are now going to dinner. And we and I, my faithful ishak, did not dinner and will not dinner; If Allah wants to get our gratitude, then let me send me a bowl of Plov, and you have a touch of clover!

He tied to Ishak to the roadside tree, and he lay down next to the ground, putting a stone under the head. His eyes opened in the dark transparent sky shining plexes of stars, and every constellation was familiar to him: so often for ten years he saw the open sky over himself! And he always thought that these watches of the silent wise contemplation make it richer richer, and although rich eats on gold dishes, but he must spend the night at the roof, and he was not given at midnight when everything calms down, feel the flight Blue and Cool Star Fog ...

Meanwhile, in the caravansers and teahouses, adjacent to the outside to the toothed city wall, the bonfires were tanned under large boilers and the rams were blown off, who dragged on slaughter. But the experienced Khoja Nasreddin prudently settled for the night from the windward side, so that the smell of food would not tease and did not disturb him. Knowing Bukhar orders, he decided to guard the latter money to pay in the morning the duty from the city gate.

He grumbled for a long time, and the dream did not go to him, and the reason for insomnia was not hunger. Gozha Nasreddin Tomili and tormented bitter thoughts, even the starry sky could not console him today.

He loved his homeland, and was not in the world of greater love of this cunning merchant with a black beard on the copper-hearth face and a flagrant sparks in clear eyes. The farther from Bukhara, he wandered in a paid coat, squeezed tubette and torn boots, the stronger he loved Bukhara and forged her. In his exile, he all the time remembered narrow streets, where Arba, driving, boorrates on both sides of clay fences; He remembered high minarets with patterned tapered caps, on which the fiery brilliance of dawn, ancient, sacred karagachi with black bumps of storks burn in the morning and in the evening; He remembered smoky teahouses above the aryki, in the shadow of the stuffing poplars, smoke and Chad Harchevien, and the Sutwoda of Bazarov; He remembered the mountains and river of his homeland, her village, fields, pastures and deserts, and when he met the compatriot in Baghdad or in Damascus and recognized him on the pattern on a tubette and on a special picture of Kolata, the heart of Khoja Nasreddin, and his breath was shy.

Returning, he saw his homeland even more unhappy than in those days when she left her. Old emir has long buried. A new emir in eight years has managed to break the buhara. Khoja Nasreddin saw destroyed bridges on the roads, the wretched crops of barley and wheat, dry aryki, the bottom of which was cracked from the heat. The fields were greeted, bumpied by Byrian and barley, the gardens died from the thirst, the peasants had no bread, no livestock, the rainfalls were sitting along the roads, navigating the alignment from the same beggars as themselves. The new Emir put in all villages the detachments of the guards and ordered the inhabitants to feed them for free, laid down the many new mosques and ordered the residents to hold them, - he was very diveged, the new Emir, and twice a year I had to worship the dust of the holy and incomparable Sheikh Brohaddin, the Tomb Which crossed near Bukhara. In addition to the previous four taxes, he introduced three more, established a fee for travel through every bridge, raised trade and judicial duties, who had fake money ... came into decay of the crafts, traded trading: sadly met Goja Nasreddin his beloved homeland.

Early in the morning from all minarets, Muzzins were again singing; The gate opened, and the caravan, accompanied by a deaf ringing of Bubarenz, slowly entered the city.

Behind the gate, the caravan stopped: the guards blocked the road. There were a great set - shoe and bare, dressed and semi-digit, who had not yet had time to get rich in the Eirm. They pushed, shouted, argued, distributing out each other in advance. Finally, a collector duties came out of the teahouse - fat and sleepy, in a silk bathrobe with salted sleeves, in shoes on a boss foot, with traces of implicitness and vice in a flooded face. Ocking a greedy view of the merchants, he said:

Greetings to you, merchants, I wish you good luck in trade affairs. And know that there is a command of Emir to beat sticks to the death of everyone who is bothering at least the smallest of the goods!

The merchants covered by embarrassment and fear silently stroked their painted beards. The collector turned to the guards, which from impatience a long time was already sent on the spot, and stirred with thick fingers. It was a sign. Guarders with a gickey and have rushed to camels. In the crust and hurry, they sabers the hair arcans, they sounded the bales mowed, thrown over the road, silk, velvet, drawers with pepper, tea and amber, jugs with precious pink oil and Tibetan medicines.

The merchants lost their horror. Two minutes later, the inspection ended. The guards lined up behind their boss. The robes of them were shoved and fade away. The collection of duties for goods and entry into the city began. Hoji Nasreddin did not have the goods; With him, the duty only for the entry was relying.

Where did you come from and why? - asked the collector. The scribe did a goose feather into the ink in the ink and prepared to write down the answer to Khoju Nasreddin.

Thirty-fifth year of his life Khoja Nasreddin met in bulk. For more than ten years he spent in exile, traveling is a hedge in the city, from one country to another, crossing the sea of \u200b\u200bthe Wait, spending the night at night - on bare earth at the scubon-eyed campfire, or in a close caravansera, where in the drupure sighs and itch Camels and Gluffy Clauses, or in chadnnaya, smoked teahouse, among the under bedside of water lines, beggars, chasters, and other poor people, the native of dawn filling with their piercing barn spaces and narrow swarms of cities. It was often used to sleep to him spend the night and on soft silk pillows in the Haparekoy-like Iranian Velmazby, who just in this night with a squad of the guards on all teahouses and caravan-sheds, - a surveying straw and blasphemy Go Hair Nasreddin to cover him on the count .. . Through the grid of the window was visible narrow-colored sky, the stars were glad, the pretty breeze was easily noisy in foliage, the windowsill began to cry out the fears of funny Gorylinka. And Khoja Nasreddin, a kissing beauty, said: - It's time. Goodbye, my incomparable pearl, and not forget . - Wait! - she answered, washing beautiful hands on her .-- Do you leave at all? But why? Listen, today, when it is dark, I will again send an old woman for you .-- Not. I have long forgotten the time When he spent two in a row under one roof. We must go, I am very hurry. - Go? Do you have any urgent things with a sudden city? Where are you going to go? - I don't know. But already lights, already opened B urban gates moved the first caravans into the path. You hear - Ranzbubentsy camels! When this sound comes to me, the Slovenkins will put up in my legs, and I can't stop in place! - Leave, if so! - Angrito said the beauty, viciously to hide tears, shining on her long eyelashes .-- Rosas me at least my name for farewell. - Do you want to know my name? Listen, you spent the night like Nasreddin! I am Khoja Nasreddin, outrageous lifetimes and a sower of contention, the one that the charming charming on all squares and bazaars, promising a big chape for his head. Yesterday they promised three thousand fogs, and Yasterns did not even sell me my own head for such a good price. You're laughing, my asterisk, well, let me rather than your lips for the last time. If I could, there would be an emerald, but I don't have an emerald, "Take a simple white pebble pebbles! He pulled his torn bathrobe, burned in the sparks of the road bonfire, and retarded slowly. In revenue loudly snores, the lazy, stupid eunuch in a chalme and soft tufts with bent up the top of the noses - the negligent guard of the main depreciation of the treasure trusting to him. Further, the rotor on the carpets of the cats, snore the guards, putting the heads on their nude. Khoja Nasreddin joined the tiptoe by, everything is safely safe, as if it became time at this time. And again rang, he smoked the white stony road with underbid hooves of His Ishak. Above the world in the blue sky; Khoja Nasreddin could not find out to look at him. Surrounding fields and fruitless deserts, where they whitewate the midfielder camel bones, green gardens and foam rivers, frowns and green pastures, heard the song of Khoju Nuzreddin. Ononed farther and farther, without looking back, I do not regret the reproach and without fear of what is waiting ahead. Yu and in the abandoned city forever remained living with the memory of the man. Velmazbi and Mullahs pale from rage, hearing his name; Waterons, drivers, weak, Mednisters and Sadelniki, gathering the most adventures in teahouses, told each other, from which he always went out by the winner; Tomny beauty in a harem often looked at white pebbles Hinged him to the mother of pearl string, having heard the steps of the proportion. - UV! - spoke to the thick wine and, puffy and idiot, began to paint his brocade bathrobe .-- We all promoted themselves with this damned vagabol Khoja Nasreddin: Helling and swallowed all the state! I received today from my old friend, respected by the rulers of the district. To think only - barely, Hodganasredin's tramp appeared in his city, as immediately the blacksmiths rearrange the taxes, and the Kharcheven's detectors refused to free the guards. Moreover, this thief, the default of Islam Islam Ishan sin, dares to get into the harem of the Khorasan ruler to make his beloved wife! Truly, the world has not yet specified a criminal! I regret that this despicable breakman has not tried to penetrate my harem, and then it would be a hop and long ago on the pole in the middle of the main square! The beauty was silent, smiled slammedly, "she was and funny sad. And the road has risen, smyshawned under the hooves. Haggered the song Khoju Nasreddin. During ten years, he visited everywhere: in Baghdad, Istanbul and Tehran, in Bakhchisara, Echmiadzin Ignisi, in Damascus and Trapezund, he knew all these cities and still many others, and everywhere he left the memory. Now he returned to his hometown, Vuguharu-I-Sheriff, in a noble buhara, where he expected, hiding under a stranger name, relax a little from the infincial.

Driving along the way to Ankara, near the city of Sivrichisar suddenly see a monument familiar to the eastern children's fairy tales - the wise men, Balaguore, respected by Goja Nasreddin. He stands on the globe in a huge chalme, riding personal transport donkey and stuck a long stick to the ground. Below the inscription "Dyunyann Merekezi Bujuradir", which means the "center of the world here". Such a simple way identified this point the wise old man, saying: "If you don't believe, you can make sure of my rightness, measuring the area in all directions." Sivrichisar, the city surrounded by sharp vertices of the rocks, translates as a "fortress with pointed walls" in itself is interesting.

The narrow streets of the city will lead you to the old fortress, you will see the Mausoleum Alevasha, many mosques of different centuries. But here you will not find the house of Khoj Nasreddin. He is fifteen kilometers, in the village of Horta. The village itself is a typical Eastern settlement with the deaf glot walls of the houses. True, they are painted by paintings illustrating the anecdotes from the life of the famous joker Kojoj Nasreddin. On the square, a small monument with the inscription: "Here in 1208, Khoja Nasreddin was born and lived until 60 years." The house, folded from the rough stones dilapidated, but still holds. In it, oddly enough, two floors. At the top of the veranda. It is so interesting to imagine that it was in him that occurred in the spirit of Nasreddin. One night, thieves climbed into the house. My wife wakes up Nasredin, and he says: "Soul, suddenly, at least they will find something." Once a year at the beginning of June, a holiday dedicated to the Great Clearge is held in Sivrichisar, which shows funny ideas. In Turkey, Gozha Nasreddin read. He is the favorite of the Turk. But his countryman considers him many peoples of Central Asia and the Middle East. Or maybe he was the "humorist of the East" managed to go round many countries and former everywhere.

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Khoja Nasreddin is a folk character of the Muslim East and some peoples of the Mediterranean and Balkans, a hero of short humorous and satirical miniatures and jokes, and sometimes household fairy tales. It is often approved for its existence in real life in specific places (eg in the city of Aksmashir, Turkey).

At the moment there are no confirmed information or serious reasons to talk about a specific date or place of the birth of Nasreddin, so the question of the reality of the existence of this character remains open.

On the territory of the Muslim Central Asia and the Middle East, in the Arab, Persian, Turkish, Central Asian and Chinese literature, as well as in the literature of the peoples of the Transcaucasia and the Balkans, there are many popular jokes and short stories about Hosting Nasreddin. The most complete assembly in Russian contains 1238 stories.

The literary character Nasreddin is eclectic and combines the syncretic image of a sage and a spaces at the same time.

This explicitly moved from several folklore characters internally contradictory image of antihero, tramp, free-reforms, rebellion, fool, whitewash, singers, a plut and even a philosopher-cynic, a subtle Scientist-theologian and Sufia makes fun of human defects, buying, hanges, hypocrites, bribery judges and Mulle.

Often turning to the verge of violation of the generally accepted norms and the concepts of decency, his hero, nevertheless, invariably finds an extraordinary way out of the situation.

The main feature of the literary hero of Nasredition is to leave any situation with the winner with the help of the word. Nasreddin-Efendi masterfully owning a word, neutralizes any of his defeat. Frequent Hazhi Takes - Pictant Ignorance and the logic of absurd.

An integral part of the image of Nasreddin became the Donkey, which appears in many parables or as the main character, or as a satellite Khoji.

The Russian-speaking reader is the most famous Dilogy of Leonid Solovyov "The Tale of Hojo Nasreddina", consisting of two novels: "A perturbator of peace of mind" and "Enchanted Prince". This book is translated into dozens of world languages.

Similar characters from other peoples: Sunny Peter at the South Slavs, Joha from Arabs, Pula-Puga from Armenians, Aldar Spit in the Kazakhs (along with Nasreddin himself), Omirbek in Karakalpakov, is also found in the Epos of Kazakhs (especially southern) due to the kinship of languages \u200b\u200band Cultures, Akhmet-Akay in the Crimean Tatars, Musfika from Tajiks, Salai Chakkan and Molla Zaidin at Uigurov, Kemine at Turkmen, Til Unelenzpigel in Flemis and Germans, Herreshele from the Gospeli from Jews-Ashkenazov.

Like three hundred years ago, and in our, the days of jokes about Nasreddin are very big among children and adults in many Asian countries.

Several researchers dating the appearance of anecdotes about Hosting Nasreddina 13th century. If you accept that this character existed in reality, he lived in the same 13th century.

The major Russian Turkologist Academician V. A. Gordlevsky believed that the image of Nasreddin came out of the anecdotes created from the Arabs around the name of Djuhi and moved to Seljuks, and later to the Turks as its extension.

Other researchers are inclined to ensure that both images have only typological similarity, explained by the fact that almost every people in folklore has a popular hero-israld, authorized by the most contradictory properties.

The first jokes about Hergo Nasreddin were recorded in Turkey in Saltukname (SaltukName), the book dating from 1480 and a little later in the 16th century by the writer and the poet "Jami Ruma" Lamia (mind 1531).

Later, several novels were written and the leader on Hosting Nasreddin ("Nasreddin and his wife" of P. Millina, "Chucks from cherry bones" Gafur Gulyam, etc.).

In Russia, housing anecdotes first appeared in the 18th century, when Dmitry Kantemir, Moldovan Lord, who fled to Peter I, published his "Turkey's history" with three "historical" jokes about Nasreddin.

In the Russian tradition, the most common name is Khoja Nasreddin. Other options: Nasreddin-Efendi, Molla Nasreddin, Afandi (Efendi, Either), Anastutrine, Nesart, Nasyr, Nasre Ad-Dean.

In eastern languages, there are several different options for the name of Nasreddin, they all rummaged to the three main:
* Khoja Nasreddin (with Nasreddin's writing variations),
* Mullah (Mall) Nasreddin,
* Afandi (Efendi) (Central Asia, especially Uigurov and Uzbekistan).

Persian word "huzha" (PERS. WAGA "Host") exists in almost all Turkic and Arabic languages. At the beginning, it was used as the name of the kind of descendants of Islamic Sufi missionaries in Central Asia, representatives of the "white bone" estate (Turk. "AK SUYUK"). Over time, "Khoja" became an honorable title, especially the Islamic Spiritual Mentors of Ottoman Princes or Teachers of Arabic Makteba began to be called, as well as noble husbands, merchants or ENUOV in ruling families.

Arab Muslim personal name Nasreddin translates as "victory of faith".

Mullah (Mall) (Arab. Al-Mullaa, Tour. Molla) has several values. Shiites Mullah - the leader of the religious community, the theologian, a specialist in the interpretation of the issues of faith and law (the Sunnites perform these functions).

In the rest of the Islamic world, in a more general meaning, as a valid title, may have the meanings: "Teacher", "Assistant", "Owner", "Defender".

Efendi (AFANDI, EPENDI) (Arab. Afandi; Persian. From ancient Greek. Aphthents "One who can (in court) to defend himself") - Honorary title of noble persons, polite appeal, with the values \u200b\u200bof the "master", "respected", "Mr.". It was usually followed by the name and were predominantly representatives of scientists.

The most designed and, according to certain researchers, classic and original is the image of Kohs Nasreddin, existing and soyny in Turkey.

According to the documents found, some Nasreddin really lived there. His father was Imam Abdullah. Nasreddin was educated in Konya, he worked in Kastamonu and died in 1284 in Akcheshire, where his grave and Mausoleum were preserved to this day (Hoca Nasreddin Turbesi).

On the tombstone, there is most likely an erroneous date: 386 year Hijer (i.e. 993 N. e.). Perhaps it is not true because Selzhuki appeared here only in the second half of the 11th century. There are assumptions that the great joker and the grave "not easy", and, therefore, the date must be read back.

Other researchers challenged these dates. K. S. Davletov refers the origin of the image of Nasreddin to 8-11 centuries. There are also a number of other hypotheses.

- Monuments
* Uzbekistan, Bukhara, ul. N. Husainova, House 7 (as part of the architectural ensemble Lyabi Hauz)
* Russia, Moscow, ul. Yartsevskaya, house 25a (next to m. Youth) - Opened on April 1, 2006, Sculptor Andrei Orlov.
* Turkey, region Sivrichisar, p. Horta

All day the sky was tightened with a gray vest. It became cool and cursed. Sad flavored steppe plans with burnt grass scolded longing. Klonil to sleep ...

The post of TRF - the Turkish equivalent of our traffic police seemed away. Instinctively prepared for the worst, because in the past driver's experience I know: meetings with such services do not bring special joys.

With Turkish "home owners" I have not yet encountered. Are they, like ours? Just in case, not to give time to the road workers of the order to come up with an excuse, in order to find fault with us, stopped and "attacked" their questions, remembering that the best defense is an attack.

But, as they were convinced, there is a completely different "climate", and the local "traffic cops", in which drivers are accustomed to seeing their eternal opponents, were not going to stop us at all and were not opposed to motorists at all. Even the opposite.

Police officers kindly responded to our questions, poured a bunch of councils and generally showed a lively interest in us and especially to our country. For several minutes of the conversation, they convinced me: these are simple, disinterested and kind guys who are conscientiously performing their official debt that at the same time does not prevent them from being responsive, cheerful and smiling. Hospitable police invited us to his post to drink a cup of tea and continue the conversation there ...

After this fleeting meeting it seemed to me that the sky did seem to be enlightened, and the warmer became, and the nature smiled ... and as if the shadow of the funny man was flashed, who, as the Turks think, once lived here.

We approached the city of Sivrichisar. The surroundings are very picturesque - the rocky mountains, torn to the sky with sharp teeth. I published I took them for the ancient fortress walls. Apparently, the city and called "Sivrichisar", which means "fortress with pointed walls". At the entrance to the city, to the left of the highway, an unexpectedly saw a monument - an old man in a broad-breasted hat sends on the downtown, who saw a long stick in the globe, which says: "Dunyann Merekezi Bukhoradir" ("Center of the World here").

I waited for this meeting and therefore immediately guessed: this is the legendary Nasreddin-Khoja ...

I remembered the anecdote. Nasreddina was asked a cunning question for which it seemed impossible to answer: "Where is the center of the earth's surface?" "Here," Khoja replied, stuck his stick in the ground. "If you don't believe, you can make sure of my rightness, measuring the distance in all directions ..."

But why is this monument installed here? We turn into the city and in the hotel, which is called "Nasreddin-Khoja", we learn that it turns out that one of the neighboring villages is - no more, no less - the birthplace of the turkey's favorite.

This is even more sophisticated our curiosity. Immediately we go to the specified village. Today it is also called - Nasreddin-Khoja. And at the time when Nasreddin was born there, her name was Horta.

Three kilometers from the route leading to Ankara, the roadside indicator made us turn cool to the southwest.

Along the main streets of the village - the spilled blind walls of global houses painted with colored paintings-illustrations to jokes about Nasreddin. On the central square, which, like the main street in this little village, can only be called only conditionally, a small monument is installed. At the pedestal, testifying that Nasreddin was born here in 1208 and lived up to 60 years. Died in 1284 in Akscheir ...

The headman pointed us a narrow curve street, where one car did not drive, - it was there a house of Nasreddin. Hibarks are closely tightly, clinging to each other. The walls of the walls in believer in the ground, as if the blind elders attacked by the unbearable time, were whipped with a whipping, which, despite their aspirations, did not hide the age, but, on the contrary, the wrinkles showed even more. The same miserable and compassionage of the doors curves, the gate glanced and wrinkled from old age and diseases ... Some houses were in two floors; The second floors of the bony loggias were hung over the curves of the coat.

The dwelling Nasreddin differs from others that the house is built not immediately behind the gate, at the "Red line", and in the depths of the tiny courtyard "Piglet", at the rear border of the site. The eased Domishko, wasted on both sides of their neighbors, folded from the rough stones, nevertheless, accommodate several rooms and an open veranda on the second floor. In the lower floor - household premises and for the traditional personal transport of the East - unchanged donkey. In an empty courtyard, without a single tree, only an antediluvian axis from the trolley with wooden solid curve wheels was preserved.

Nobody lives in the house for a long time, and he came to complete launch. However, they say, as a sign of grateful memory, the glorious Nasreddina in his native village will build a new, worthy of his good-quality home on the main square. And then the villagers are ashamed that their illustrious countryman has such a breakdown ... and, right, they will hang on that house a memorial plaque with the inscription: "There was born here and lived Nasreddin-Khoja."

Such a neglected appearance of his house was surprised by us: the popularity of Nasreddin-Khoja reached a truly global scale. With the growth of his popularity, the number of applicants considered Nasreddin their countryman. "His" he is considered not only the Turks, but many of their neighbors in the Middle East, the Caucasus, in Central Asia ...

The grave of Nasreddin is located in the city of Akscheir, kilometers in two hundred south of the native village. It is curious that the date of death on the gravestone slab of a furry merry and joker, as they think is intentionally indicated in a joking spirit, in his manner - backwards (so Nasreddin-Khoja often traveled on his donkey) - that is, 386, instead of 683, which corresponds 1008 in our hourly. But ... It turns out that he died earlier than born! True, this kind of "inconsistencies" do not confuse fans of the beloved hero.
I asked the residents of Nasreddin-Khoji, there was no chance of any of the descendants of the Great Joker. It turned out, the descendants are. There were no five minutes as the neighbors, without hesitation, presented to us direct descendants of Nasreddin, whom we captured against the background of historic dwellings ...