BE-ing Georgian

“To be, or not to be, that is question” –Hamlet

My mind spins around this phrase all the time. What is it to be anything? How does one define oneself? Does one let others do the defining? Is it done through words? Mood? Culture? Song? Food? Buildings? Politics? Gender?

For me be-ing is very present-participle, very here and now, very elemental. Sometimes I am all water, then there is a fire in me that propels me forward, or there might be  the solidity of the earth which holds me or the aspiration of the air. I am mood and spirit and centre force. I am my own yardstick full of character traits and rights and wrongs and I am love. Am I a citizen of the world or tied to a collective conscious that has grown from living in one place for so long? Is my –ing based on a past culture or do I live entirely with my character and personality here in the present carving out each day as new water passages through soft rock?

What is it TO BE?

To be English, to be Italian, to be German, to be French or to BE GEORGIAN?

I saw this poster on Facebook, posted by Georgian friend and there it was again,THAT THOUGHT.

‘Yes, but what does it MEAN??’











I looked to the Georgian media and was shocked at what Damien M Guinness had written in his article, ‘Has Feminism arrived in Georgia’ (1) which showed quite clearly that is has not as the TV show designed and manipulated to show the very worst of male macho-ism, ‘Women’s Logic,’ shows. 

Images of scantily dressed women answering patronising, degrading and manipulative questions is described by Georgian feminist protest leader Ninia Kakabadazae when she says,

'The programme makes women look stupid and reinforces dangerous stereotypes, in a country where women are often viewed as intellectually inferior'

My own experience of working with the Georgian media was markedly different but just as defining. Interviewed by The Patriarch’s own TV channel I was ‘told’ to change my top no less than three times for fear that the tiniest bit of flesh below the collar-bone might show. Images of women bounce across social net-working sites across the world but those coming out of Georgia which play on the stereotypical Virgin verses Whore look – are disturbing.

Take this one I saw today on Facebook

Translation: You don’t know what to expect. And, yes that is a dagger you see before  you.
   








I asked my sister, who knows of my involvement with Georgia, and who works as an education officer at a prison here in the UK, what the ‘under-belly’ of society thought about the idea of what it was to be Georgian and what she came back with shocked me. All prisoners no matter where from held the same view. Georgians were thugs, the worse kind of criminals, emotional-less, calculating, ruthless, cold and dangerous.

Whilst I have had mixed experiences with Georgian personalities I did not want to ‘boil them all in one pot’ as one particular Georgian saying goes so  I asked Georgians themselves what it meant to BE GEORGIAN.

It would appear that Be-ing Georgian is tough. The question threw many of my Georgian friends into a frenzy of past/present double-think and some, recognising the complexity of the question choose not to answer, telling me it was something they had never thought of before and that it was too complicated. (Did that make them lazy or were they not comfortable sharing?)

There was a lot of talk about soul and character and individuality.
‘But how does that make you Georgian?’ I asked. ‘It’s about being emotional, being connected to the ground, being natural’ another answered. Well, I’m all those things, I thought and I’m not Georgian.

The word patriotic and nationalistic came up a lot. This and a claim that as a country that has constantly been oppressed, invaded and persecuted part of be-ing Georgian seems to be  a desire to stand up and fight for freedom and democracy.

Patriotic democracy? Nationalistic freedom? Mmmm another oxymoron.

OK but what characteristics would you use to define a Georgian personality? I kept asking. What is it to BE Georgian?

‘Music defines us, the mood of music’ came one reply. ‘What kind?’ I asked and a link to the Basiani ensemble (members of the Patriarch of Georgia’s choir) was posted on my wall.  Uh oh, another double-think moment. I represented one particular choir here in the UK for 3 years and I understand, probably because I sing Georgian song,  that the mood of different types of folk music helps to define characteristics of different regions. For example the songs from the grape growing region of Kakheti  mirror the movement involved in working the land for grapes whilst those songs from Svaneti are harsher, stronger, more dominant with a crashing stone bass sounds which  reflect the landscape and the hard physical labour which must go into surviving in remote mountainous regions.

Sacred church song however is sung to strict rules and allows for no variation. It is supposed to be sung by those with a pure voice that comes from a pure soul. Unfortunately as I know to my own personal cost, that this is not always the case.(2)
 
‘Not as holy as would be expected’ describes the apparent hypocrisy which frustrates not just me but the feminist movement in Georgia who speak angrily about the ‘Do as I say, not do as I do’ attitude of the church especially towards women.

So, in order to challenge certain perceptions that just keep re-appearing I kept pushing the question – what is it to BE Georgian, what characteristics does a Georgian have?

Then, finally, this answer came in this response.
.
We are,

‘Unique in everything, love, hate, wisdom, silliness, we can be mean, generous, decent and rude, open-hearted and tricky at the same time. Can you find any other nation in the whole world who is so versatile? We LOVE fame and fortune more than anything! We can criticize a man to death and ban him, but worship him when he’s dead and bring a sea of flowers and heart-melting toasting at his funeral. We really are a nation who are from ancient roots and we can boast this over the world, making other nations feel desperate and low’

This perceptive Georgian woman is a neurologist (3) who has thought a lot about this question as the unexplained nature of her people intrigues her as well. She then went onto write about how the character of a Georgian can only be based on the ideas of the past, which are:

'A past of stories of decency and knight-ship, mysterious and powerful women and tales of ruthless vendetta.'

As several other Georgians have also told me, the good intellectual, moral and spiritual core has gone from the present day Georgian - eliminated over the years by Russian persecution. What is left behind are beautiful but empty toasts to a past which seems to be being re-written somehow, much like our own King Henry VIII re-wrote his present in order to woo Anne Boleyn when he re-enacted and romanticised The Knights of the Round Table fables.  

Like Good King Hal’s portrayal, that present was based on an illusion of the past.

Is Georgia now doing the same? Is Georgia trying to re- define and re-sculpt an image of a Georgia that it wishes to portray to the world but one which is beyond its own abilities? Is this  what makes the Georgian so difficult to define?

The reality it seems, and I guess this is why it took so much digging to find some kind of  answer, is that the modern Georgian is an echo of the past – only the negative traits remain.

Before being -ing there was bravery, genuine hospitality, tolerance, wisdom, creativity and ‘being nice’ by nature, now there remains visible only negative traits, laziness, excessive drinking, supra's where offense is easily taken, empty toasts to fairy tales from the past made into glories fables  and the assumption that Georgia is God’s chosen land and that no-where else could ever match it for its beauty, nobility, richness of culture, heritage, history and past. 

No humility in there then.

All of this manifests itself in an arrogance based on assumption.

Is that what it is to truly BE Georgian?

I truly hope not.

Sarah

(1)http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-17943026
(2) The Holy Choir of The Patriarch of Georgia is of a combination of several choirs most notably Basiani and Shavnabada – of Basiani I have no personal experience.

(3) Mariam Velijanashvili

Language and Waiting

Words, power and how language defines us.

“The tongue is mightier than the blade” *

“The pen is mightier than the sword”

This idea has appeared time, and time again through -out different cultures, times and religions and has settled here in the West as a euphemism for polite negotiation. Hopefully, this is in preference to passive/aggressive power struggles.

Not so, it would appear, in Georgia.

The menacing sword held in the right hand of  Kartilis Deda, a huge statue which stands at the top of Sololaki Mountain, can be seen from most of Tbilisi  and is impressive. The translation into English gives the statue another name. Known as 'The Mother of Georgia' the statue represents a philosophy which gives the Georgian people both power and keeps them powerless. In her left hand this giant Deda holds a bowl for wine which is synonymous of the great traditions of wine-making and hospitality that Georgia is notably famous for. The sword, clutched in her right hand is meant to be a warning to any potential invaders. Georgia will defend her lands, territories and rights.

Here is double-think at work again; the power of the ideas presented in this statue, loyalty to kin, honour and hospitality keep the culture alive but which actually, only succeeds  within strict and rigid cultural and orthodox guidelines. However, without an ability to relax or remove the metaphorical sword many aspects of that culture become powerless, the way women are perceived, for example or the way the certain phrases define such perceptions of who the Georgian people are.

There is a phrase I have heard 1000’s of times in Georgia and it transcends the different regions, tribes and traditions.

“ I (we) am (are) waiting for you”

Ok, that’s great but what does it mean? It seems full of power yet feels powerless at the same time. It seems out of context, out of time.  It gives and it takes in the same instant and assumes an intimate connection with you, as a potential guest, but also makes you, the guest, responsible for that connection and any action needed to arrive whilst being waited for. Your action will ensure the statement is a success  or a failure. That phrase, followed by a shrug of the shoulders and another utterance, “What can I do?” seals the double-thinking process  which continues, to this day, to put my head in a spin.

The potential guest is never quite invited, but is always welcome, the potential guest is placed in a passive/aggressive position and like Kartilis Deda, is kept trapped in a never ending cycle of hand holding the cup of wine and offering friendship but from behind a sword, which threatens to kill should they come too close. If the guest fails, or offends, as they inevitably will, the shoulder shrug confirms the low expectation of the guest in the first instance whilst absolving all responsibility or initial instigation and the side-stepping phrases which started the cycle, will be spoken again. At this point neither the pen, nor the sword can offer any answer, or comfort.

I first saw Mother Georgia as part of a night-time drive/walk through Tbilisi. The air was electric with both sexual tension and confusion. That  night in September 2009 had started with the phrase, ‘I am waiting for you’ and had ended with a shrug, palms up, and a, ‘What can I do?’ as I had tried to understand, through heated conversation, the contradictory ideas presented in the Deda, with a Georgian man who then (and now) had absolutely no idea what I was talking about.

Recently large statues of Stalin have been returned to their original plinths both in Tbilisi and through-out Georgia. This process has been funded by the new government. As Kartilis Deda looms over Tbilisi, defining and confining, I wonder, if statues are symbolic of a Georgian identity, then what does the return of Stalin all really mean? Head spin time again.

Georgia prides itself on great art, literature and culture so I hope that eventually she is able to begin to see that there are alternatives to the passive/aggressive- powerless/power conundrum that is self-perpetuated by the symbolism of Deda. Of Mother.

Taking Deda down could be an act of powerful redefinition but might just be a step too far. Choosing different phrases to define an identity however, is not.

Sarah

*From the Greek playwright Euripides d 406BC

“We're waiting for you.”

            Wait then. Keep waiting – and make sure you enjoy it, because you might be waiting forever.

            Reciprocity is something we seem to hold sacred these days. Scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours. Love me and I'll love you back. Do as you would be done by. It takes two to tango. We hold our demands for reciprocity up as strength, as sassy, savvy, empowered and liberated. I am no fool – you cannot fool me – I will not be taken advantage of. Do not think I will make the first move, do not expect me to expose myself. You cannot fool me.

            “We're waiting for you.” said one man to another. “We're waiting for you.” came the reply, with a smirk. “Um, no, actually, we're waiting for you – AND we said it first! Jinks! No returns!” The two men stand and look at each other, for quite a long time. They shift slightly, chew their lips and furtively look at each other, making sure not to inadvertently be caught looking.

            “We're waiting for you,” said the host to his guest, an unreadable smile on his lips. “Oh,” said the guest, smiling falteringly and looking at the array of food on the table, the bottles of exquisite wine and the empty chairs. The guest looked at her host once more and saw a twinkle in his eyes, hard as glass. “We're waiting for you!” he said again, no impatience, just amusement. Declare you hand, he means to say, show us your weakness, he's thinking, give us an excuse to slip a dagger between your ribs when you accidentally slight us, she reads in the lines around his glittering eyes.

            “I'm waiting for you,” she says to her lover, staring at the space above her collar bone because she's too afraid to look her in the eye. “I'm waiting for you,” she murmurs as she runs her fingers over her lover's skin, every touch screaming I love you. “I'm waiting for you,” she says silently, a lump in her throat, her heart freezing over, all the while unaware that her lover is peacefully sleeping.

            Don't wait.

 Richard

Vows and when they prevent Change

Change - sometimes it's for the best

With the washing machine whirring gently in the background everything feels on an even keel and very domestic as I sit down to write this. Then from   the radio comes the announcement that Pope Benedict is resigning.  It’s a bold step to state that, ‘in today’s world, subject to so many rapid changes… (I) have to recognise my incapacity to adequately fulfil the ministry entrusted to me.’

Change is the theme here. Change; an ability to let things go, to see clearly when certain systems, cultural, political and social, serve no purpose and are based on a vow made in times past. My own journey with Georgia reflects this theme. I vowed, in 2010, to walk by the side of a Georgian man, who had in turn made his vow to me We were to work together to preserve and cherish the traditions and music of Georgia. This Georgian man embodied all that (or so I was given to believe) was noble and true about the Georgian identity. That vow, now broken, kept me powerless  and blind to the possibility of change, kept me sick and ill with grief, the purpose of which, I now acknowledge, was  designed to strip me of my power, my voice and my ability to recognise when change needed to happen.

Like an onion peeling and revealing its layers, I can now see that the quest of the Saakashvili and the previous Georgian government to westernise many aspects of Georgian culture quickly has had a detrimental effect on the attitudes towards women within that society.  It is almost as if a cancerous and insidious backlash of action against anything which empowers people, if it is compared to some Western ideals, is ridiculed at best and ignored at worst. This has been highlighted significantly over the past few days when the image of a woman with a bloody nose who had attended the protest outside the National Library in Tbilisi, was flashed across TV screens and on Facebook pages. Alongside general condemnation of the violence itself was a judgement, made by some and echoed by others,  that women ought not to be out  protesting, that it was not their place.

Thank God this woman was there.

She chose to be there because she clearly felt strongly enough to protest and  strong enough to add her voice to the opinions of the people on the streets. This is a sign of democracy. There are no guarantees or fail safes when protesting, there is no control, it can be unpredictable and sometimes dangerous. This woman knew that.  How does the Georgian culture deal with this shift? The idea that women are now, very publicly  adding their voices and actions in protest?  If the reaction by many men and indeed Georgian women were to be believed it would appear they are being condemned. I know of many Georgian women who are using their voices to promote change, women from The Women’s Fund who are talking openly about women and sexuality on Georgian television, Georgian Women who are teaching English and who are trying to empower themselves financially and academically by contacting and speaking with people in the west. I know   TV presenters, Radio presenters,  Academics, Women in banks, in the arts, in the theater, in admin. Many of these women earn more than their husbands. I know women who have been left and abandoned, used and ignored, judged by the church, by their families and by a culture based on a vow made in a time that no longer serves any purpose but to which so many seem to continue to want to hold.

Many Georgian women want to change and want to protest, in as many different ways as there are protesters and like butterflies, who appear fragile, they are actually incredibly strong and are changing. Hopefully  they are dragging a reluctant culture behind them. I applaud them.

To those women who are too scared, who feel trapped or frightened and to those women who are choosing to abide by a vow designed to oppress them I say find it in yourself to be stronger, be more resolute, don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater but work together for your future. I would like to, if you will let me, stand by your side.

I only hope that the Georgian society as a whole can experience a cultural shift and, like the Pope,  see when it has reached its ‘incapacity to fulfill the ministry’,  recognize that the vows made in the past will merely block the road to the future  and I hope and pray that Georgia (and us) can act positively and embrace some changes which can only be for the good.

Sarah

Ch-ch-ch-changes …

            Change is what we all hope for, yet it is something we are oddly reluctant to believe in. I find it impossible to imagine a time when I could feel good singing Georgian music again, when me and my partner can walk hand in hand through Tbilisi or when the country has a thriving, unafraid LGBTQ community. Of course, if someone had told me when I was a child, that by the time I hit my 30s the Troubles in Northern Ireland would largely be a thing of the past, I wouldn't have believed that either. I grew up in a London that was frequently bombed, and the West End was out of bounds every year from November when the IRA started their Christmas bombing campaign. Supermarkets, schools, shopping centres, cinemas – I was evacuated out of all of them at one point or another. I suppose the residents of East Berlin before the Wall came down felt much the same way. I should think Palestinians and Tibetans feel that way right now. My point is that everything changes – we know that because we see it every day in the weather, our own faces, the things we like, the things we eat. But when it comes to the big things, the societal things, the really horrible shitty things, we find it impossible to believe. These things change too; bombings stop, walls come down, bitter enemies become friends and people's hearts are made new and unbroken.

            A leopard doesn't change it's spots – some say. Rubbish, I say. If people didn't change, then we would always have to wait until an old generation died out before a war ended, opinions moved on, people wore different styles of clothing or things ever improved. It might not always feel like it, but things improve all the time. Tell me you can't think of one instance when you changed your opinion on something, and I won't believe you – especially if you are an ex anything. Aren't we all ex something? Ex-wives, ex-husbands, ex-lovers, ex-smokers, ex-vegetarians, expats?

            I remember a time when change happened really fast in the UK; the time when became ex-homophobic. I don't think it was related, but it came about when the UK took up mobile phone use en masse in '98, I think, or '99. It also coincided with the real end of the Thatcher years, when the grey caretaker PM John Major was replaced by Tony Blair. This was before he became 'Bliar' and I think there definitely was a link there, at least. It was also about the same time that there was an openly gay character on Eastenders. It was that character that caused my sister to finally understand what her brother had been talking about, a couple of years before. Ex-homophobes, ex-racists, ex-misogynists. It almost happened overnight, almost. So what has this to do with Georgia? Simply this; change will come to Georgia and it will come fast – be sure of that. When it does, we have to make sure we are ready to make friends with our ex-enemies.

Richard

Sarah and Richard have some thing to say about Georgian song.

Georgia I have fallen in love with you but...

I am in love. Not with a person but with a country. The country of Georgia.

The first time I sang your music I fell head over heels. Every  part of me resonated with joy and I felt healed. Healed from past hurts and rejections, healed from grief, healed from pain. The three part harmonies interwove and played with my emotions, teased them, seduced them. The intensity of the energy connection between the strangers I had just met and were now singing with was almost embarrassing.

As a savvy, late 30 something woman, active in the women’s movement, used to having a voice, being listened to and respected, I felt vulnerable. Little did I know I was on the brink of the most important love affair of my life. A love affair with you, Georgia. 

As with all relationships the first attraction, the passion was beguiling. I threw myself into your music. I was building my own business anyway so I decided to I give up a full time teaching job which would free me to sing your songs during the daytime during the week, I listened with complete submission to the voices of your choirs, mostly male it has to be said, from villages, and towns, from the different regions, mountains, plains, sea. I could almost taste the grape sweet and heady within pieces from Kakheti, I hefted  my breath up and over the heavy bass lines from Svaneti. I was head over heals and  It was all consuming.

At that stage the journey was thrilling, exciting, magical and as I was caught up in the romance of it all, in the romance of you.  I became hungry for total immersion so , when the opportunity arose to visit you with the choir I was singing with  we went to sing as part of the Chveneburebi Festival. It was a crazy time  for us all and one we were not prepared for. It was also the first time I started to realise that as a woman from the west I was very out of step with your Georgian women, and they with me. I know that as you are opening up (you have  only been free from the USSR since 1995) you  are trying to change and move forward. 

Women’s rights are coming to your attention and you are used to being steeped in patriarchal traditions that are reinforced by a strong and emerging nationalism that presents itself in an ever increasing and complex procession of double think. I hear you speak about how your culture is reverent to your women I  see you deny them their voice, sexuality, power and identity. 

Thinking back to that sweet month of September in Tbilisi I remember trying to find somewhere near the Opera House that sold sim cards and of Dato, a Georgian man who was kind and hospitable, who clearly wanted to help me, and who became increasingly agitated as I did not understand what he was trying to say. In the end the penny dropped, he wanted me to go in a taxi with him. What for my beguiling new love? I think to find a shop but my suspicious western  women’s instincts kicked in and I walked away. He was incensed and I realise now that it was because I would not do as I was told. I would not conform, I would not adhere, I would not recognise him as the dominant and naturally superior being,

I would not be a Georgian woman.

Swept along by the glamour and excitement of the visit I choose to ignore the signs of duality and duplicity in your heady Georgian psyche ( I have known many of your women hold this duplicity within them as well – in fact many Georgian women foster and endorse these multi-layered attitudes of oppression that play a huge role in your own psychological imprisonment)  and I went ahead and fell in love, this time with one of your Georgian men. That relationship lasted 3 years, and it was three years  which unravelled painfully and exposed some of the darkness at the heart of your beautiful culture.  

My relationship with you has changed. I am still in love, but it is a wiser love a more mature love and one which recognises my identity as a woman who is not Georgian and who has grown stronger as a result . I don’t sing your Georgian music so much anymore. I physically could not tune into the harmonic sounds and the clashing chords for a long time and I have been sick, a physical reaction to the emotional journey of discovery  that put me on such a high. I have met some amazing people on this journey of re-discovering my voice and some incredibly strong women and men who are helping me to understand what happened. That are helping me to understand you. It’s going to take a long time but I am going to sing again and I am going to sing Georgian song again because, it’s very simple, I still love you.

Sarah

Georgia the beautiful …

            Georgia has always been one of those places for me, a place with a draw. It's part of my love of the exotic, I suppose. The linguist in me was fascinated by a language where virtually every verb is irregular, a glamorous ergative-absolute alignment (only Basque in Europe is also of this type, all other European languages, even the otherwise kookie Finnish and Hungarian comply), a crazily complex phonology and a unique and beautiful alphabet. I read the Vepkhist'q'aosani, 'The Knight in the Panther's Skin', Georgia's national epic poem when I was in university and it only heightened the romance. The fascination endured as I learned more about the country. I bought text books in the language and I fantasized about visiting. When I got a job as a food writer, the very first article I pitched was a piece about the cuisine of Georgia. I cooked with and interviewed a very lovely Georgian woman. I bought more text books and studied the language in earnest. My contact with Georgia and its culture stepped up a grade when I joined the Bristol Georgian Choir. I have always loved singing and this seemed perfect. We met every Monday night, the people were welcoming, warm and charming, and the music was heavenly. If you have never heard Georgian polyharmonies, I urge you to do so. I would also say that listening to them is one thing, but producing them, in (occasionally) perfect synchronicity with 20 or so friends is something else. I was hooked. The choir had recently come back from an evidently wonderful tour of Georgia, I was introduced to the Bristol Tbilisi Society (they are twin towns), and my much dreamed-about trip to Georgia seemed inevitable, given time.

            At some point, however, something went wrong. I hasten to add here that it was no fault of the choir – quite the opposite in fact. There are still times now when I see a choir member on the street and go to say hello and then feel quite suddenly guilty that I just simply stopped attending. I put it in my diary to go back, and I really intended to go back, at some point, but each time I tried, I couldn't. There are just some things that turn sour and there is nothing you can do about it. It was like having a long-distance crush for absolutely ages, then finally going on a date with someone. The first date goes fantastically well, so you go on another which is wonderful too, but then, just as you hold hands over the post-dessert brandy, they crack an anti-Semitic joke. Or a racist one. Or a homophobic one or, I don't know, they admit that they think Margaret Thatcher was a great woman. I came across a couple of fairly toe-curling articles about the treatment of LGBT people and women in Georgia, quite by accident, and went cold as I read them. I found a few more and then when I searched for them, it became a torrent. The more I read about the place, the more it was obvious – despite the undeniable beauty and fascination of the place, to a large and very real extent, Georgia is a homophobe and Georgia was a misogynist. I'm not talking about everyone and I know this will upset some, many even, who might say, 'why focus on the negative?'. But there is one thing I cannot forget; one Monday night at choir practise, we sang Shen Xar Venaxi. It's a beautiful devotional song about the Virgin Mary and the title translates as You are the Vineyard. It was my favourite. But the words stuck in my throat and I felt sick. I stopped singing, made my excuses to leave as soon as we finished and I never went back. The truth of the matter is that for me, as a gay man, as a leftist, I couldn't raise my voice to Georgia any more. Not until things changed. By raising awareness of Georgia, by being brave and facing up to the good things and the bad, perhaps this change can slowly come about.

Richard