Natsarkekia

Once upon a time, or maybe not, there lived a lazybones. From morning till night, he sat by the hearth, poking at the ashes with a stick. That’s how he got his nickname: Natsarkekia—the Ashes Poker. No matter how hard his mother tried, she couldn’t get her son to work—the lazybones wouldn’t even budge from his spot! The old woman grew tired of feeding the idler. One day, Natsarkekia went out into the yard, and she locked the doors behind him. She handed him some bread, fresh cheese, and a sack of ashes through the window and said:

“Go wherever you want, feed yourself however you can. Here’s a sack of ashes—poke around in it as much as you like.”

The lazybones begged and pleaded not to be kicked out of the house, but it was all in vain. His mother wouldn’t let him back in.

So Natsarkekia wandered off wherever his feet took him.

After walking for a long time—or maybe not so long—the lazybones found himself on the bank of a wide river. On the other side stood a dev (a giant or ogre), drinking water. When Natsarkekia saw him, he trembled with fear. But where could he go? If he ran, the dev would catch him in an instant!

Natsarkekia was lazy, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Maybe I can scare the dev myself?” he thought. “I’ll pretend to be brave, and maybe he’ll get scared and leave!”

Natsarkekia pulled a knife from his pocket, pierced his sack of ashes, and shouted at the top of his lungs:

“Hey, weakling! How dare you muddy the water in my river?”

He yelled while walking along the bank, shaking the sack of ashes. The ashes spilled out, swirling and billowing.

The dev looked: what kind of miracle was this? The man was barely visible, but he had such a mighty stride, raising such a cloud of dust! The dev grabbed a stone from the ground and shouted back:

“Hold your tongue, little man, or there’ll be nothing left of you but dust, just like this stone!”

And the dev squeezed the stone so hard that it crumbled to dust. Natsarkekia didn’t think long; he bent down as if to pick up a stone but secretly grabbed the cheese in his hand.

“This is what will be left of you!” he shouted. “Look at my strength!” He clenched his fist, and whey dripped from the fresh cheese.

The dev was amazed—he had never met such a strong man among humans. He decided not to quarrel with him and invited him to his home to show him to his brothers. Natsarkekia really didn’t want to go to the dev’s house. The poor fellow didn’t know how to get out of the invitation. It was scary to go, but refusing was impossible.

“Carry me across the river. I don’t want to get my feet wet,” he said to the dev.

The dev waded into the water—he was too afraid to disobey Natsarkekia—and sat him on his shoulder.

“Wow, you’re so light, like a feather!”

“Of course, I’m holding onto the sky with one hand. If I let go, you won’t be able to hold me.”

“Go ahead, let go. Maybe I can hold you.”

Natsarkekia pulled out his knife and stabbed the dev in the back of the head. The dev howled in pain:

“Ow, don’t kill me! Grab the sky again!”

They arrived at the devs’ dwelling. The house was tall and spacious. Natsarkekia marveled—he had never seen such a house before.

On the hearth stood a huge ketsi (a clay pan). The devs used it to bake bread.

The devs asked their guest to watch the ketsi so the bread wouldn’t burn, while they went outside to roast a deer.

Natsarkekia thought the bread was burning on one side. He tried to turn the ketsi but couldn’t handle it and tipped it over onto himself! The poor fellow struggled but couldn’t get out.

The devs came in and gaped in surprise—their guest was under the ketsi!

“What are you doing, man?” asked the eldest dev.

“My back was hurting, so I put the ketsi on it to warm my bones,” replied Natsarkekia. “The pain’s gone now—take it off me!”

They sat down to eat.

There wasn’t much wine left in the jug. The hosts gave Natsarkekia a large jug and sent him to the marani (wine cellar) to fetch more wine.

Natsarkekia nearly lost his mind when he saw the jug. He could barely lift it empty—how would he carry it full of wine?

But what could he do? Natsarkekia dragged himself to the marani. The devs waited and waited, but the guest didn’t return.

The devs went to see what had happened to their guest and found Natsarkekia digging around the qvevri (a large clay wine vessel buried in the ground) with a shovel.

“Have you lost your mind?” asked the devs.

“It’s better to pull out the qvevri and drink all the wine at once instead of carrying it in little jugs!”

The foolish devs were amazed—it had taken five of them to bury the empty qvevri, and now this guest planned to pull it out alone, and full of wine!

The devs took the jug from Natsarkekia, filled it with wine themselves, and carried it back to the house.

They all sat down to eat and drink. Suddenly, one of the devs sneezed—so hard that Natsarkekia was thrown up to the ceiling! Luckily, he managed to grab onto a beam and didn’t fall.

“Why did you climb up there?” the devs asked in surprise.

“How dare you sneeze in my presence! I’ll pull out this rod and break all your ribs in no time!” shouted Natsarkekia.

The devs trembled and shook with fear. It had taken nine of them to carry that beam, and now the guest called it a rod!

The devs bolted out of the house and scattered in all directions. Natsarkekia slowly climbed down and from then on ruled the devs’ house as his own.

1 Qvevri—a large clay vessel for storing wine, buried in the ground.

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Natsarkekia

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