Kabardian shashka

“My words won’t be compelling unless I demonstrate one movement.”
I am shifting from foot to foot, holding a wooden plank.
The director of the National Museum of Kabardino-Balkaria, Felix Nakov is standing in front of me like a cowboy from a western. In his left hand he is holding an ornate scabbard from which the tip of the sword handle is scarcely visible. It seems hard to pull it out. But Felix makes an imperceptible movement, and something whooshes past my nose: the plank split in the middle, as if by itself.