Pood

Pood (pronounced pood or poot (Russian))

(1) An old Russian unit of mass, equal to 40 Russian funt, or about 16.38 kg (36.11 lb).

(2) A Russian unit of mass used for kettlebells (a hand-held weight used in physical training and competition), now rounded off to 16 kg (35.274 lb pounds).

(3) In computing, as POOD, (principle of orthogonal design), a model of database design with parameters designed to avoid redundancies and duplicated routines.

1100s: From the Russian пуд (pud), from Low German or Old Norse pund (pound) (unit of weight and measure), from the Late Latin pondo (by weight; in weight), from the Classical Latin pondus (weight, heaviness, density), From the Proto-Italic pondos, from the primitive Indo-European spénd-os & pénd-os, from spend- and pend-..  A doublet of pound, the alternative spelling was poud.  Pood is a noun; the noun plural is poods (pudi or pudy in Russian).

Instructions for using a 1 pood kettlebell.

Under comrade Stalin (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953), the pood, like other units of weight defined by the system used in Imperial Russia, officially was abolished in 1924 but, beyond the big cities, the old ways remained in wide use until the 1950s and, for informal transactions (which at times constituted a substantial part of the Soviet economy) it really went extinct only as the older generations died off.  One quirk however remains, the weight of the traditional Russian kettlebells (a hand-held weight used in physical training and competition), cast in multiples and fractions of 16 kg (the metric version of the pood), the 8 kg ketterbell a ½ pood, a 24 kg a 1½ pood.  Informally, among traders, bulk agricultural communities such as grain, potatoes and beets are sometimes expressed in poods, reputedly because the sacks used in retail distribution are still made in sizes in which quantities such as 8, 16, 32, 48 & 64 kg can conveniently be bagged.

1 pood kettlebells in the shape of Russian President Vladimir Putin’s head, Heavy Metal Shop, Moscow.

Had all the relevant evidence been presented in court when Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) was tried before the International Military Tribunal (IMT) at Nuremberg (1945-1946) he’d likely have been hanged but as it was, convicted on counts 3 (war crimes) and 4 (crimes against humanity) he was sentenced to twenty years, most of which were served in Spandau Prison.  In there, he wrote the notes for what became his not wholly reliable but still valuable memoir and a prison diary.  Selectively edited, The Spandau Diary (1975) was one of the minor classics of the genre, not least because it was probably more helpful than all the many reports by psychologists and psychiatrists in assessing whether his fellow inmate Rudolf Hess (1894–1987; Nazi deputy führer 1933-1941) was mad, either during his trial or subsequently.  It was also a rich source of the type of anecdotes which distinguish prison journals, one of which came from a Soviet guards who, after Speer observed to him the new Soviet prison director “didn’t seem so bad”, recited an old Russian proverb: Человека узнаешь, когда с ним пуд соли съешь which he translated as “you do not know a man until you have used up a pood of salt with him”.  Speer, then in the fourteenth year of his sentence, was interested enough to look up just how much a pood weighed but didn’t comment further.  As other prison diaries have noted, guards provide much practical advice.  A year earlier, resting in bed with a swollen knee, he mentioned to one of the Soviet guards that the Russian doctor had prescribed two aspirins a day.  Knowing the guard to be “a veterinarian on the side”, he asked how a horse with a swollen knee should be treated.  “If horse cheap, shoot dead.  If good horse, give aspirin” he was told.  Again, Speer added no comment.

Khlebosolyn: Young ladies in traditional dress presenting bread and salt to a visitor.

Quite how long it would take two chaps to work their way through 16 kg odd (35 lb) of salt is geographically and culturally variable.  In a modern Western household, that quantity of salt would typically last years and while after that long two people should be well acquainted with each other’s foibles, in pre-Modern Russia, a pood might have been absorbed more quickly.  For one thing, in the pre-refrigeration age, salt was often used in bulk to cure and preserve food including meant and fish and that was sometimes necessary even in Russia’s colder parts and there was also much boiling of food in salt water.  Prized since Antiquity, highly taxed in Imperial Russia and therefore expensive, salt was also an important part of cultural tradition.  A ritual invoked when greeting important guests was to present on the table a loaf of bread, placed upon a rushnyk (an elaborately embroidered cloth), atop which was placed a salt cellar.  The ceremony is the origin of the Russian word khlebosolny (literally “bready-salty”) which expresses someone’s hospitality, bread and salt traditional symbols of prosperity and good health.  So, salt consumption in old Russia was quite a bit higher than in modernity (not counting the high levels in processed food) and the consensus is the proverb probably means people truly don’t know anyone until they’ve spent a year or more together.

Pood is wholly unrelated to poodle (a dog breed dating from 1808), from the German Pudel, a shortened form of Pudelhund (water dog), the construct being the Low German Pudel (puddle) (related to pudeln (to splash) and the Modern English puddle) + the + German Hund (hound; dog).  The origin in German is thought related to the dogs originally being used to hunt water fowl, but in England and North America, it was always a term for an undersized fancy or toy dog with long, curly hair.  The essentially decorative qualities of the diminutive canine meant that in UK the figurative sense of "lackey" emerged in 1907, perhaps derived from the British army slang “poodle-faker”, defined in the slang dictionaries of the age as “an ingratiating” but thought always used euphemistically as a gay slur.  Despite legislative reform which removed all legal prohibitions on homosexual acts, that sense survived into twenty-first Australia to be used on the floor of the parliament by Julia Gillard (b 1961; Australian prime minister 2010-2013), later famous for her “misogyny speech” which deplored sexism and sexist language (when aimed at her).  In 2009, she used the imagery of “mincing” & “poodle” as a slur against another (male, married and with four children) parliamentarian who was admittedly really annoying and needlessly neat and tidy but it was a slur nonetheless.

The mincing poodle tapes.