mr16's shoebox: doonyashka bear

for everyone who has written to me recently
enquiring what the russian is for "the bear
of despair":

"yevgeny doonyashka"

is what the russians call the bear of despair.

when an old woman hears her son has gone and
invested all his money in the business of a
family enemy she cries "DOONYASHKA!"

when a father hears that his daughter has
gone into the workhouse you will hear him
yell "DOONYASHKA!"

at a russian grandfather's breaking point
you may even hear the rarely heard "YEVGENY
DOONYASHKAAAAAAAAAAA!" - but this is seldom
mentioned as the word Doonyashka is bad
enough - but to invoke the bear of despair's
full name you would have to be at a point
beyond hope.

i once heard a beggar woman mutter "oi oi.
doonyashka is me" as she ambled down the
cobbled streets of Boishnev, a rural town to
the north of Moscow. she was followed by a
gangly younth who echoed her with "ay.
yevgeny doonyashka." at which point the old
woman spun round and slapped him in the
face, furiously warning him never to say
such a thing again unless he was in darkest
peril.

i stopped the old woman and asked her to
explain to me the meaning of this strange
saying, doonyashka.

"ah, young man" she said, "it is a sad
tale."
I filled her upraised swarthy palm with
coins and she went on, "once doonyashka was
a happy bear living peacefully in the
mountains. he walked with the animals and
talked with the birds. butterflies would sit
on his shoulders and rain would steer away
from him. the sun loved him and it was
always spring where he walked. but then one
day the terrible thing happened..."

at this point the old woman shook and trembled so
fiercely i thought she was sobbing.
she then wailed something incomprehensible
and extremely loud. it was some time before
i could console her enough to press her to
continue.

finally she said, "the terrible thing... the
thing that you must never do to a russian
bear... oh young man! when i think of it..."
she almost fainted but i caught her before
she hit the ground, surpressing the thought
that her faint had been very well aimed in
my direction and i had yet to see a genuine
drop of moisture on her cheek.

after a few pokes in her ribs she seemed to
wake up and it only took me 30 more coins to
get her speaking again.
"you have to understand, young man... in
russia, if you give pancakes to a bear..."

again her hand went to her brown, weathered
face.
"once, a long time ago, a well meaning young man from the village
offered the bear a plate of pancakes. the
bear was never the same again. that bear...
was yevgeny doonyashka."
the old woman seemed to jump at her own
words and feverishly looked about her as if
expecting an imminent consequence of her
words, meted out by some zealous, law crazed
passer-by.

"oi-i-i-i-i-i! doonyashka!" and now she
really wept.
"our nation morns for you!"
i offered some tissues and she dabbed
clumsily at her eyes.
"thank you, young man, thank you... you see,
doonyashka could never eat pancakes. it was
the only thing he wanted and couldnt have.
he smelt their beautiful fragrance wafting
up from the village sometimes and dreamed
often of stuffing them in his mouth. but
alas, doonyashka was a stuffed bear and
could not eat real food. when the young man
offered the bear the pancakes, it was all
the bear could do not to tear the man limb
from limb. but instead a terrible calm
descended over doonyashka. he fell into a
deep and dark depression, staring endlessly
into space for hours - sometimes days. he
wandered about in such an aura of loss that
his sadness became infectious and spread
wherever he travelled. where he appeared
normally happy villagers would burst into
tears for no reason.

"doonyashka's eyes disappeared and in their
place were dark wells of nothingness.
eventually he disappeared into the mountains
and was never seen again. but to this day it
is said that you can sometimes hear him at
night walking through the town. he makes no
noise but for the soft tread of his furry
feet - but all around him becomes still and
silent with an infinite sadness - until he
leaves... that's how you can hear him - when all is still and silent as the grave."

i thanked the woman for her time and for
relieving me of the burden of so many heavy coins
and went on my way - a sadder, yet wiser,
man.