The Tale of Kish
A long time ago, Kish lived near the Polar Sea. For long and happy years he was the first person in his village, he died surrounded by honor, and his name was on everyone’s lips. So much water has passed under the bridge since then that only the old people remember his name, they also remember the true story about him, which they heard from their fathers and which they themselves will pass on to their children and their children’s children, and those to their own, and so it will pass from word of mouth until the end of time. On a winter polar night, when a northern storm howls over the icy expanses, and white flakes are flying in the air and no one dares to look outside, it is good to listen to the story of how Kish, who came from the poorest igloo[1], achieved honor and took a high place in your village.
Kish, as the legend says, was a smart boy, healthy and strong, and had already seen thirteen suns. This is how they count years in the North, because every winter the sun leaves the earth in darkness, and the next year a new sun rises above the earth so that people can again warm up and look each other in the face. Kish's father was a brave hunter and met death during a time of famine, when he wanted to take the life of a large polar bear in order to give life to his fellow tribesmen. One on one he grappled with the bear, and it broke all his bones; but the bear had a lot of meat, and this saved the people. Kish was the only son, and when his father died, he began to live alone with his mother. But people quickly forget everything, they also forgot about the feat of his father, and Kish was just a boy, his mother was just a woman, and they were also forgotten, and they lived like that, forgotten by everyone, in the poorest igloo.
But one evening a council gathered in the large igloo of the leader Klosh-Kwan, and then Kish showed that he had hot blood in his veins, and in his heart was the courage of a man and that he would not bend his back to anyone. With the dignity of an adult, he stood up and waited for silence to fall and the hum of voices to subside.
“I’ll tell the truth,” he began. “My mother and I are given our due share of meat.” But this meat is often old and tough, and has too many bones.
The hunters - both completely gray-haired, and those who had just begun to turn gray, and those who were in the prime of life, and those who were still young - all gaped. They had never heard such speeches before. So that the child speaks like a grown man and throws daring words in their faces!
But Kish continued firmly and sternly.
“My father, Bok, was a brave hunter, that’s why I say that.” People say that Bok alone brought more meat than any two hunters, even the best, that with his own hands he divided this meat and with his own eyes made sure that the oldest old woman and the most frail old man got a fair share.
- Get him there! - the hunters shouted. - Get this boy out of here! Put him to bed. He is still too young to talk to gray-headed men.
But Kish calmly waited until the excitement subsided.
“You have a wife, Ugh-Gluk,” he said, “and you speak for her.” And you, Massuk, have a wife and mother, and you speak for them. My mother has no one but me, and that’s why I say. And I said: Bok died because he was a brave hunter, and now I, his son, and Aikiga, my mother, who was his wife, should have plenty of meat as long as the tribe has plenty of meat. I, Kish, son of Bok, said.
He sat down, but his ears were sensitive to the storm of protest and indignation caused by his words.
– Does the boy dare to speak at the council? - old Ugh-Gluk muttered.
- Since when did babies start teaching us men? – Massuk asked in a loud voice. - Or am I no longer a man, that any boy who wants meat can laugh in my face?
Their anger was boiling over. They ordered Kish to go to bed right away, threatened to completely deprive him of meat, and promised to give him a severe spanking for his impudent act. Kish's eyes lit up, his blood began to boil and a hot blush rushed to his cheeks. Showered with abuse, he jumped up from his seat.
- Listen to me, you men! - he shouted. “I will never speak at a council again, never before you come to me and say: “Speak, Kish, we want you to speak.” So listen, men, my last word. Bok, my father, was a great hunter. I, Kish, his son, will also hunt and bring meat and eat it. And know from now on that the division of my spoils will be fair. And not a single widow, not a single defenseless old man will cry at night anymore because they have no meat, while strong men groan in severe pain because they have eaten too much. And then it will be considered a shame if strong men begin to gorge themselves on meat! I, Kish, said everything.
They ridiculed and mocked Kisha as he left the igloo, but he clenched his teeth and went his way, looking neither to the right nor to the left.
The next day he headed along the coast, where the land meets the ice. Those who saw him noticed that he took with him a bow and a large supply of bone-tipped arrows, and on his shoulder he carried his father's large hunting spear. And there was a lot of talk and a lot of laughter about this. It was an unprecedented event. It had never happened that a boy of his age would go hunting and not even one. The men just shook their heads and muttered something prophetically, and the women looked with regret at Aikiga, whose face was stern and sad.
“He’ll be back soon,” the women said sympathetically.
- Let him go. This will serve him as a good lesson, the hunters said. “He will return soon, quiet and submissive, and his words will be meek.”
But a day passed and another, and on the third a severe snowstorm arose, and Kish was still not there. Aiki-ga tore her hair and smeared her face with soot as a sign of grief, and the women reproached the men with bitter words for treating the boy poorly and sending him to his death; the men remained silent, preparing to go in search of the body when the storm subsided.
However, the next day, early in the morning, Kish appeared in the village. He came with his head held high. On his shoulder he carried part of the carcass of the animal he had killed. And his step became arrogant, and his speech sounded impudent.
“You men, take the dogs and sledges and follow my trail,” he said. - In a day's journey from here you will find a lot of meat on ice - a mother bear and two cubs.
Aikiga was overjoyed, but he accepted her delight like a real man, saying:
- Let's go, Aikiga, we need to eat. And then I'll go to bed because I'm tired.
And he entered the igloo and ate heartily, after which he slept for twenty hours straight.
At first there were a lot of doubts, a lot of doubts and disputes. Going after a polar bear is a dangerous thing, but three times and three times more dangerous is going to a mother bear with her cubs. The men could not believe that the boy Kish alone, all alone, accomplished such a great feat. But the women talked about the fresh meat of the freshly killed animal that Kish brought, and this shook their mistrust. And finally they set off on the road, grumbling that even if Kish killed the beast, it’s true that he did not bother to skin it and cut up the carcass. But in the North, this must be done immediately as soon as the animal is killed, otherwise the meat will freeze so hard that even the sharpest knife cannot take it; and loading a frozen carcass weighing three hundred pounds onto a sled and transporting it over uneven ice is no easy task. But when they arrived at the place, they saw something they didn’t want to believe: Kish not only killed the bears, but cut the carcasses into four parts, like a true hunter, and removed the entrails.
Thus began the mystery of Kish. Days passed after days, and this mystery remained unsolved. Kish went hunting again and killed a young, almost adult bear, and another time - a huge male bear and his female. Usually he left for three or four days, but it happened that he disappeared among the icy expanses for a whole week. He didn’t want to take anyone with him, and the people were amazed. "How he does it? – the hunters asked each other. “He doesn’t even take his dog with him, but a dog is a great help when hunting.”
- Why do you only hunt bears? – Klosh-Kvan once asked him.
And Kish managed to give him the proper answer:
“Who doesn’t know that only a bear has so much meat?”
But in the village they began to talk about witchcraft.
“Evil spirits are hunting with him,” some said. “That’s why his hunt is always successful.” How else can this be explained if not by the fact that evil spirits are helping him?
- Who knows? Or maybe these are not evil spirits, but good ones? - said others. - After all, his father was a great hunter. Maybe he now hunts with his son and teaches him patience, dexterity and courage. Who knows!
One way or another, Kish was not without luck, and often less skilled hunters had to deliver his prey to the village. And he was fair in his sharing. Just like his father, he made sure that the frailest old man and the oldest old woman received a fair share, and left for himself exactly as much as was needed for food. And for this reason, and also because he was a brave hunter, they began to look at him with respect and fear him and began to say that he should become a leader after the death of old Klosh-Kwan. Now that he had glorified himself with such exploits, everyone expected him to appear again on the council, but he did not come, and they were ashamed to call him.
“I want to build myself a new igloo,” Kish once said to Klosh-Kwan and other hunters. “It should be a spacious igloo so that Aikige and I can live comfortably in it.”
“Yes,” they said, nodding their heads with importance.
“But I don’t have time for that.” My business is hunting, and it takes up all my time. It would be fair and right for the men and women who eat the meat I bring to build me an igloo.
And they built him such a large, spacious igloo that it was larger and more spacious even than the home of Klosh-Kvan himself. Kish and his mother moved there, and for the first time since Boka's death, Aikiga began to live in contentment. And not only one contentment surrounded Aikiga - she was the mother of a wonderful hunter, and she was now looked upon as the first woman in the village, and other women visited her to ask her for advice, and referred to her wise words in disputes with each other or with their husbands.
But most of all, the mystery of Kish’s wonderful hunt occupied all minds. And one day Ugh-Gluk accused Kish of witchcraft in his face.
“You are accused,” said Ugh-Gluk ominously, “of having relations with evil spirits; that's why your hunt is successful.
- Do you eat bad meat? – asked Kish. - Did anyone in the village get sick from it? How can you know that witchcraft is involved? Or are you speaking at random - simply because you are stifled by envy?
And Ugh-Gluk left ashamed, and the women laughed after him. But one evening at the council, after much debate, it was decided to send spies on the trail of Kish when he goes after the bear again, and to find out his secret. And so Kish went hunting, and Bim and Bone, two young, the best hunters in the village, followed on his heels, trying not to catch his eye. Five days later they returned, trembling with impatience - they so wanted to quickly tell what they had seen. A council was hastily convened in Klosh-Kvan’s home, and Bim, his eyes widening in amazement, began his story.
- Brothers! As we were ordered, we followed Kish's trail. And we walked so carefully that he never noticed us. Halfway through the first day of his journey, he met a large male bear, and it was a very, very large bear...
“It doesn’t happen anymore,” Bone interrupted and took the story further: “But the bear didn’t want to engage in a fight, he turned back and began to slowly walk away across the ice.” We looked at him from a cliff on the shore, and he walked in our direction, and Kish walked behind him, without any fear. And Kish shouted at the bear, showered him with abuse, waved his arms and made a very big noise. And then the bear got angry, stood on its hind legs and growled. And Kish walked straight towards the bear...
“Yes, yes,” Bim picked up. - Kish walked straight towards the bear, and the bear rushed at him, and Kish ran. But when Kish was running, he dropped a small round ball on the ice, and the bear stopped, sniffed the ball and swallowed it. And Kish kept running and kept throwing small round balls, and the bear kept swallowing them.
Then a cry arose, and everyone expressed doubt, and Ugh-Gluk directly declared that he did not believe these tales.
“We saw this with our own eyes,” Bim convinced them.
“Yes, yes, with my own eyes,” Bone confirmed. “And this went on for a long time, and then the bear suddenly stopped, howled in pain and began pounding the ice with its front paws like mad. And Kish ran further along the ice and stood at a safe distance. But the bear had no time for Kish, because the small round balls caused big trouble inside him.
“Yes, big trouble,” interrupted Bim. “The bear scratched itself with its claws and jumped on the ice like a playful puppy. But he didn’t play, but growled and howled in pain - and it was clear to everyone that this was not a game, but pain. Never in my life have I seen anything like this.
“Yes, and I didn’t see it,” Bone intervened again. – What a huge bear it was!
“Witchcraft,” said Ugh-Gluk.
“I don’t know,” answered Bone. “I’m only telling you what my eyes saw.” The bear was so heavy and jumped with such force that he soon got tired and weak, and then he walked away along the shore and kept shaking his head from side to side, and then sat down and growled and howled in pain - and walked again. And Kish also followed the bear, and we followed Kish, and so we walked all day and three more days. The bear grew weaker and howled in pain.
- This is witchcraft! - Ugh-Gluk exclaimed. – It’s clear that this is witchcraft!
- Anything is possible.
But then Bim again replaced Bone:
– The bear began to circle. He walked first in one direction, then in the other, then back, then forward, then in a circle, and crossed his trail again and again and finally came to the place where Kish met him. And then he became completely weak and could not even crawl. And Kish approached him and finished him off with a spear.
- And then? – Klosh-Kwan asked.
“Then Kish began skinning the bear, and we ran here to tell how Kish hunts the beast.
Towards the end of this day, the women brought in the bear's carcass while the men held a council meeting. When Kish returned, a messenger was sent for him, inviting him to come too, but he said that he was hungry and tired and that his igloo was large and comfortable enough to accommodate many people.
And the curiosity was so great that the entire council, led by Klosh-Kwan, got up and headed to Kish’s igloo. They caught him eating, but he greeted them with honor and seated them according to seniority. Aikiga alternately straightened up proudly and lowered her eyes in embarrassment, but Kish was completely calm.
Klosh-Kwan repeated the story of Bim and Bone and, having finished it, said in a stern voice:
“You must give us an explanation, O Kish.” Tell me, how do you hunt? Is there witchcraft here?
Kish looked up at him and smiled.
- No, oh Klosh-Kwan! It’s not a boy’s place to practice witchcraft, and I don’t know anything about witchcraft. I just figured out a way to easily kill a polar bear, that's all. This is ingenuity, not witchcraft.
– And everyone can do this?
- Every.
There was a long silence.
The men looked at each other, and Kish continued to eat.
– And you... will you tell us, about Kish? – Klosh-Kwan finally asked in a trembling voice.
- Yes, I'll tell you. “Kish finished sucking the marrow from the bone and got up from his seat. - It's very simple. Look!
He took a narrow strip of whalebone and showed it to everyone. Its ends were sharp, like needles. Kish began to carefully roll up his mustache until it disappeared in his hand; then he suddenly unclenched his hand - and his mustache immediately straightened. Then Kish took a piece of seal oil.
“That’s it,” he said. - You need to take a small piece of seal fat and make a hole in it - like this. Then you need to put the whalebone in the hole - like this, rolling it up well, and cover it on top with another piece of fat. Then you need to put it in the cold, and when the fat freezes, you will get a small round ball. The bear will swallow the ball, the fat will melt, the sharp whalebone will straighten - the bear will feel pain. And when the bear becomes very painful, it is easy to kill it with a spear. It's quite simple.
And Ugh-Gluk exclaimed:
- ABOUT!
And Klosh-Kwan said:
- A!
And everyone said it in their own way, and everyone understood.
Thus ends the tale of Kish, who lived a long time ago near the Polar Sea. And because Kish acted with ingenuity, and not with witchcraft, he rose high from the most miserable igloo and became the leader of his tribe. And they say that while he lived, the people prospered and there was not a single widow, not a single defenseless old man who would cry at night because they had no meat.
History of Kish
The light of the lamp, although it was dimmed, still woke me up. And more than once at two or three o’clock in the morning I saw Mikhas at work. His small, fragile figure in his underwear was bending over a book, and in the silence of the night, a sleepy, tired voice mechanically repeated Greek and Latin conjugations with the same monotony with which the words of prayers are repeated in a church. When I ordered him to lie down, the boy answered: “I haven’t learned everything yet, Mr. Wawrzhinkiewicz.” Meanwhile, I prepared the assigned lessons with him from four to eight and from nine to twelve and never went to bed without making sure that he knew everything. But “everything” was asked too much. Finishing the last lesson, the boy forgot the first, and the conjugations - Greek, Latin and German - mixed with the names of various districts, brought such confusion into his poor head that he could not sleep. Then he got out of bed, lit the lamp and sat down at the table again. When I scolded him, he cried and begged my permission to study a little more. Over time, I became so accustomed to his nightly vigils, the light of the lamp and the muttering of repeated conjugations that I could no longer sleep without them. You probably shouldn't have allowed your child to become overtired, but what could you do? He had to somehow learn his lessons every day, otherwise he would have been expelled from school, and God only knows what a blow that would have been for Mrs. Maria. After the death of her husband, she was left with two orphans and pinned all her hopes on Mikhas. The situation was hopeless. The boy had to study well, but at the same time I saw that excessive mental stress undermined his health and threatened his life. It was necessary to at least strengthen him physically, force him to do gymnastics, walk a lot or ride a horse, but there was not enough time for this. The child worked so much, every day he had to learn so much by heart, write so much, that I say with a clear conscience: there was not enough time. Latin, Greek and... German took up more than one minute the boy needed for health, fun and life; in the morning, putting books in his backpack, I saw how his thin shoulders bent under the weight of these Byzantine volumes, and my heart sank with pain. Several times I asked to be more lenient with him and not demand so much, but the German teachers replied that I was spoiling and spoiling the child, that Mikhas obviously did not study enough, that he had a Polish accent and that he cried at the slightest reason. I have a sore chest, I am lonely and irritable, and therefore these reproaches poisoned me for more than one minute. I knew better than them whether Mikhas was studying enough. He had average abilities, but he showed so much perseverance and, for all his fragility, had such a strength of character that I have never seen in other children. Poor Mikhas was blindly and passionately attached to his mother; moreover, he was told that his mother was very sick and unhappy and that if he studied poorly, it would kill her. The boy trembled at the mere thought of this and spent whole nights sitting over the book, just so as not to upset his mother. He cried when he received a bad mark, but no one could guess why he was crying, or what terrible responsibility the child felt at such moments. Eh! Who cared about that? He had a Polish accent - and that’s it! I didn’t spoil him, I didn’t spoil him, but I understood him better than others, and if I didn’t scold him for his failures, but tried to console him, it was no one’s business. I myself have worked a lot in my life, I have experienced both hunger and need, I have never been and never will be happy - and let it all go to hell! I don’t even clench my teeth anymore when I think about it. I don’t believe that life is worth living, and maybe that’s why I sincerely sympathize with every misfortune.
