Well...what can I say? I travelled 9,000 kilometers, I spent
four months, that’s 123 days or 2952 hours in The Republic of Georgia.
Georgia is
perhaps the most interesting country that I have ever had the opportunity to visit. It is a country of contrast, a country of duplicity, and one of
contradiction.
I’ve spent the last few days on the cobbled streets of Tbilisi with its clean and stylish
middle class. Young couples sneak kisses under Christmas-lighted trees.
Dignified older men and women laugh, it trickles into your ears as they vanish
around the corners of trendy restaurants, leaving nothing but a cloud of
expensive perfume in your nose.
I’ve spent the better part of my time in the village, with the lovely, semi-nomadic farmer class,
scraping sustenance out of the generous earth with muddied fingers, they smile
with open hearts and offer to you everything that they own, which never seems to be enough to them, but always seems too much for you.
Georgia is
a love story, we just don’t know how it’s going to end. Sought after, courted
by superpowers, scorned, abandoned, and revered, Georgia now sits on a precipice
between Russia and the U.S. with a pro-Russian Prime Minister beginning his first term and a
pro-American President ending his last. Do the people want us here? Do they want to westernize,
join NATO and the EU and speak English and embrace capitalism? Or do they want
to go back to Russia, trickle back down into the notorious days of gangsterism
and corruption when life was difficult but the choices were unbelievably easy? Unfortunately, most Georgians that I have spoken to have little sense of history, they simultaneously love the West and Russia, despite what Russia has done to them, despite what we'll do to them. Like
I said, we just don’t know how it’s going to end, yet.
My last
days in the village were the easiest that I spent there because my emotions were buoyed
by the prospect of finally seeing my family again, but I was torn between the thought of a Canadian Christmas and the reality of forever leaving my new
family, my Georgian family.
“I’m doing
the right thing by leaving, right?”
“Don’t worry
too much about it, mate. It’s time to go home.”
“If I
stayed another week it would just be that much harder, right? If I stayed
another year it would be just that much harder, right?”
Oh Dali,
Giga and Rusiko.
Dali grew fonder
of me as the fateful day approached. She was constantly jabbering at me in
Kartuli, convinced that I was just being modest when I told her I wasn’t fluent
yet. She grabbed me in a giant bear-hug and shook me around like a rag doll,
she threatened me with a wooden spoon, and she took it as a personal affront
when I lost my appetite for a few days. She almost cried when I told her “Shen
aris chemi Kartveli deda”, you are my Georgian mother. She has a lovely soul.
I was
amazed by how much Rusiko opened up to me during my time in the village. When I
arrived in August, she wouldn’t say a word to me, instead she would sit in the
corner of the room, carefully tracking my movements with her big green eyes. By
December I had to forcibly keep her away from me: “Russo, stop touching my hair”
“Russo, stop going through my journal” “Russo stop trying to light my shoes on
fire.” She was convinced that she could fit in my backpack and that I could
sneak her into Canada, her mother was even more convinced that I could find her
a “kargia Canadelli bitchi,” a nice Canadian boy. When the time came and I
pulled open the drawstrings of my pack, telling Russo to hop on in, she had a
sudden change of heart, and told me that she’s going to Russia instead. That
didn’t stop the tears from running down her face.
Giga was a
man about it. He was uncomfortable with the prospect of me leaving, but he made
me shake his hand and promise to come back one day. The kid is
fifteen-years-old.
My Canadelli
Deda went on a shopping spree before I left. She bought dozens of pens,
pencils, crayons, glue sticks, sheets of paper etc. I used as much of the
supplies as I could during school but everything that was left I collected on a
table in my room. I added to it all of my novels, some electronics and a few
silly Canadian toys. When I showed the family that I was leaving them with all
of this, they completely flipped out. Russiko started bouncing around, Giga’s
smile could have melted a snowman and Dali gave me a big hug. It was probably
the most touching thing I have ever witnessed, thanks Canadian mom, your
thoughtfulness went a long way.
The last
day of school was interesting. A few of the teachers that I had made friends
with didn’t want me to leave, they truly are nice people that made me feel
welcome. It was the kids that were the hard part. I gave a little speech to
each class, telling them that they were wonderful students and a lot of fun.
Some of them cried, some of them begged me not to go and some of them gave me a
look of utter abandonment. I was crushed.
A few of
the older girls gave me love notes written in wonderfully questionable English.
The gesture was immense, it must have taken them a long time to write them.
Rusiko saw
all of this and wasn’t about to be outdone. We walked home from school together
and she immediately locked herself in her room while I started packing. An hour
later she handed me a note that says she has two brothers, Giga and Zach. I
finally lost it at that point and had to look away, convinced that I suddenly had
something in my eye.
I did not
know how to feel on the morning that I left. I didn’t want to leave those two
kids that had become my brother and sister, but I was and still am unbelievably
excited for the next chapter in my life, wherever and whenever that occurs.
