Nasruddin's Nail

A necessary prequel to our next blog post:

Mullah Nasruddin is a Middle Eastern folk character who maintains a starring role as the “wise fool” in thousands of traditional, humorous allegories. We had never heard of this Muslim character until we were recounting our house-hunting story to a few of our Moroccan friends. Their immediate response was, “It’s Nasruddin’s Nail!”

Naturally, we were inclined to seek out this story in order to understand what our friends were talking about. There are many different versions of the story, but we found this one to be especially entertaining.

An excerpt from  “The Extraordinary Adventures of Mullah Nasruddin” – a collection of Mullah Nasruddin stories, retold by Ron J. Suresha

            One of Nasruddin’s neighbors, Aslan, was a large, hairy Jew with a huge, bushy moustache. For years since he had moved there, Aslan was keenly aware of the Mullah’s ongoing financial difficulties, and sought an opportunity to take maximum advantage of the situation.

            He went to the Mullah’s house and looked around. “I want to help you, good neighbor. I will buy the house from you, even though it’s dilapidated and I don’t really have any interest in spending much money for it.” The man offered a pitiful price.

            Nasruddin sighed and drew a small piece of paper from the folds of his clothing. “God bless you with long life and healthy progeny for this kind gesture! Indeed, for months I have been praying for such a generous offer. The house shall be yours, as soon as we take care of this little clause in the contract.”

            “What clause?” asked Aslan, suspiciously.

            “Only a very small matter, just a technicality. As you are aware, this house was built by my father, Yousef. I was born in this house.”

            “A fine gentleman he was,” admitted Aslan. “Always paid in cash.”

            “And you see here on the wall of the living room – there is one nail sticking out. My father never had the chance to finish hammering it in. He had a heart attack and died.”

            “God rest his soul!” Aslan looked as contrite as he could.

            “I therefore request that I be allowed to keep ownership of that nail, and do whatever I want with it. The nail is off-limits to you and your wife, and you cannot otherwise interfere with my nail or its functioning.”

            The neighbor agreed but explained that he would have to consult his wife before signing. Aslan’s wife raised some serious objections. “Why does that scallywag want to leave one old bent nail in the wall? What does it mean?”

            “I have no idea. Sentimental memories, I guess. He just wants to be allowed to keep and ‘worship’ his nail from time to time. That’s all. Harmless, I’m sure.”

            “Well, I’m not so sure,” she said. “That Nasruddin is one whacked-out bastard!”

            “Maybe so. But the house is actually in decent shape and we are getting it for less than half its value. So what’s the problem if he wants to keep a single stupid nail? We can move in next door and rent out our house.”

            The wife finally relented, the two men put in writing all of the agreements of the sale of the property, including Nasruddin’s contingency, and signed the contract.

            One month after Nasruddin had vacated the house, Aslan and his wife were just sitting down for dinner when they heard a knock on the door. It was Nasruddin, standing with his head bowed.

            “Oh Mullah, where have you been? We were worried about you,” the Jew declared.

            “Nasruddin said, “Thank you for your concern. I have come to worship my father’s nail.”                

            “Not a good time. We’re just about to eat.”

            “Go ahead and eat. I just want to pay my respects silently and leave. I’ll let myself out.” Reluctantly Aslan let him into the house.

            Mullah entered and walked up to his nail, prostrated, and put his scarf on it. Then he sat cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed in meditation. After ten minutes, Aslan came in to check on him just as the Mullah bowed again and stood up.

            As the Mullah was heading for the door, Aslan asked him, “Hey Mullah, what is that doing there?”

            “That’s just my scarf.”

            “Yes, but you can’t leave it in my house.”

            “Of course I can,” said the Mullah as he headed toward the door. “It is on my nail.”

            Two weeks passed before Nasruddin’s next visit.

            “Ah, good morning, Mullah. You have come to retrieve your scarf, I presume.”

            “No thank you, my dear friend. I have come to worship my father’s nail.” Once again he bowed before the nail and sat for meditation. Some minutes later, his worship finished, he hung his turban along with his scarf on his nail and turned to leave. Aslan slammed the door behind the departing Mullah and hoped his wife wouldn’t be too angry.

            When Aslan’s wife saw the turban, she was furious. “Enough is enough. I told you he would try to pull a fast one on us.”

            “Sadly there is little or nothing we can do about the matter,” Aslan told her. “Nasruddin claimed he was worshiping his dead father’s nail and we signed away the rights to that nail.” The man gnawed the ends of his moustache. “Certainly this must be the last time. What else can he possibly hang on the nail?”

            A week later, when Nasruddin returned, Aslan objected to his visiting his father’s nail so frequently.

            “You signed the contract! You cannot deny me the chance to pay tribute to the sole memento of my dear departed father whenever I like or in any manner I choose.” Mullah stepped quickly into the house and bowed toward his nail. Before turning to leave, he took off his coat and hung it on the nail along with the turban and scarf.

            The wife was beside herself and she upbraided her husband. “Now look what he’s done. He is taking advantage of our kindness. No – advantage of your weakness.”

            “But what can I do?” Aslan chewed the ragged bristle of his moustache. “We agreed that he could do whatever he wants with his nail. But fear not, pumpkin, now the nail is completely full. There is absolutely nothing else he can do to annoy us.”

            The next day, Nasruddin showed up again. Aslan tried to shut the door in his face when he saw who it was, but Nasruddin had already placed his foot inside. Nothing was going to stop him from worshipping his nail.

            Aslan bit at the hair on his upper lip. “Oh dear God. Not you again. I do hope this is the last time!”

            “Possibly, but not likely,” replied Nasruddin with his usual benign smile. Aslan opened the door.

            Mullah entered, dragging behind him what appeared to be a dead goat. He took the hat, scarf, and coat off his nail, and proceeded to hang the goat carcass on it. Witnessing this, Aslan’s wife went insane with rage, and screamed at her husband.

            “Get that out of my house or I’m leaving you!”

            The Jew protested vehemently, “Nasruddin, you’ve gone too far. We cannot have that.”

            “But you signed the contract, good neighbor.”

            “Well, we will see about that. Let us have the council of elders make a ruling.”

            “Fine. The elders meet in three days. We’ll settle this once and for all by then. Meanwhile, keep your hands off my nail.”

            In two days, the stench and insects filled the interior of the house until it was a nightmare to stay anywhere inside. Since their old house was occupied, Aslan’s wife moved back to her parents.

            The next day, before the assembly of village elders, the Jew explained the situation, anxiously picking at the few wisps remaining from his once bristling moustache, as though the sprouts of hair offended him.

            Mullah simply presented the contract to the council, without uttering a word in his defense.

            The village leaders studied the contract in conference, and quickly pronounced that the Mullah was entitled to do as he wished with his nail. “There is no limitations in the contract that restrict how the nail may be worshipped.” The case was dismissed, and Aslan went home dejected.

            The next morning, after a sleepless night, Aslan begged Mullah to buy his house back, at a fraction of the sale price. Nasruddin agreed and they moved out as quickly as possible. Whistling a happy tune, Nasruddin returned home, opened all the doors and windows, cut down and disposed of the dead goat, cleaned the house, and moved back in. So the Mullah was once again able to enjoy his house and his nail, having made a tidy sum of money.

            Since then, the term “Nasruddin’s nail” (or Djuha’s nail”) has become a proverbial phrase somewhat like what we nowadays call a “poison pill,” a seemingly advantageous situation that has a small but serious fatal drawback with the potential to sour or spoil the deal.

-David, Nicole, & Aliyah