One day, by accident, I found a statement from UN Women about a social media marketing and web programming course for women. I decided to try it but didn’t have high hopes that I would be selected from so many people. I had almost forgotten about this when I received a letter announcing that I had passed the second stage and now I had to pass the test. At this point, I already had hopes that I might have made it to the end and completed the test very motivated. I received another message that I was selected and invited to the opening in Batumi. It made me very happy. I already had two children and I remember thinking, how I could say that I’m going to Batumi for three days for this great occasion?! In the beginning, of course, there was skepticism – ‘’Why do you go to such a training?’’, ‘’Why do you waste your time?!’’, ‘’Will it be useful at all?!’’, etc. I have always proved to such people that I really made use of every training I ever went to.

My motivation in technology and particularly in the UN women program, was Lily Pulariani, with whom we also have a volunteer Facebook page – “Women Sharing Digital Knowledge.” During this pandemic, we have big plans – we want to help women use online technologies. For me, as an entrepreneur, my knowledge has helped me a lot in online sales and in doing online marketing. Therefore, I really want to help many entrepreneurial women we have in Tskaltubo and teach them everything I know about social media marketing.’’

The post Kristine Kutateladze, 30 years old, Tskaltubo, Imereti appeared first on WomenOfGeorgia.

I was very lucky to find strength in myself – I said to myself that I couldn’t continue like that. The first thing I wanted to do was to continue learning English. Nobody in my family took this idea with enthusiasm, nor did I got support from them. They didn’t believe that I would be able to study again. But later, I proved that I could study and work at the same time.

I only have a few friends from school age. One of them has mental health problems and hasn’t left her home for 10 years now. I talk to her a lot, taking my own example into account, but at such times, family support is of paramount importance. Solving the mental problem begins with recognizing the issue by the family and working together.

The post Salome Shekishvili, 29 years old, Tbilisi appeared first on WomenOfGeorgia.

Salome:

I have the status of a person with a disability, but if I’m not mistaken, the law has changed in 2014, and people with hearing impairments no longer belong to this group. My currently assigned status is moderately disabled, which means that I can’t get the benefits from the social package, and neither can I get the pension. Only people under the age of 18 with hearing impairment are eligible for the social package and pensions are given only to those whose status was assigned before the law changed. I was 26 years old when I lost my hearing and they didn’t assign me to the beneficiary group, therefore I don’t receive social welfare either. Such an attitude from the state toward us is blatant indifference and injustice.

Lana:

Barbare seemed to understand her mother’s condition from the beginning, or rather she got used to it looking at us. She was barely two years old and wouldn’t talk until Sali was looking at her. Some time ago, she wanted a Cocoa drink, her mother couldn’t hear it and Barbare pronounced it for her – ‘’Co-Co-a’’.

The post Salome Kvaratskhelia, 30 years old, Tbilisi Lana Kvaratskhelia, 28 years old, sister appeared first on WomenOfGeorgia.

At this point, the left ear is almost useless, I can only hear about 10%. The right one is still okay and hopefully, it will last a few more years. Unfortunately, regression continues, and, what’s the most horrible – restoring the hearing won’t be possible, nor will medicine be able to stop the hearing impairment. I hope there will be something new in the future that will help me with it.

School

I changed four schools, but I couldn’t find my place – I was bullied everywhere: at first because of my nationality, name and last name, then also because I grew up without a father. I was even beaten by boys from my class, they laughed at me and spread rumors. When my hearing got worse, I couldn’t even understand teachers’ questions and I was embarrassed when they repeated what they said, at which point my classmates couldn’t stop laughing. Back then all of it was very emotional for me. When the lesson was over, I would cry on recessions alone – no one can understand how you feel when you’re in such a situation, even though you have the greatest desire to hear everything they hear and live exactly like them. Even my teachers used to say something that would break my heart. Later, I moved to another (and last) school, where my classmates and teachers welcomed me warmly. I told the teachers on the first day that I had hearing problems and I hoped that they would give my classmates the right information about me, since, with me there, it would be a slightly different environment. Finally, relationships with them didn’t work out – it was very common for them to smile in my face and spread rumors behind the back.

At the school where I study now, I only have a close relationship with one person, who has become my ears and my eyes – when I don’t understand something, she writes for me and that’s how I communicate with the rest of the school. For other classmates, I’m a regular classmate. When I need any help with the school affairs, then I have to face the annoyed and irritated faces of my classmates. Teachers know that I have a problem and they really try to help me, however, the environment is not in an order that would make me feel complete.

Unfortunately, in Georgian schools, there is no adapted learning format for people with disabilities. I mostly communicate by writing and when it comes to the lesson explanation process, it’s hard for me to be involved. All deaf people are different, some of them can understand words, but aren’t able to understand sounds and vice versa. In my case, it would be a full-fledged environment if there was an option to communicate in written form, or in the form of presentations, with slides. Teachers are focused on other pupils and it is very heartbreaking for me. When the teacher knows that there is a pupil in the class who needs special attention, and she spends all her time with others, and, in fact, explains the lesson only to them and doesn’t care about you, it makes you sad and it also kills any motivation. However, I don’t mean that the teacher should pay attention only to the person with special needs. No – the more attention is paid to this person, the more that person will feel awkward; it’s better to just provide at least an environment of support. For example, a sign language teacher, or using the written form; and, as there are special teachers in lower grades, there should also be one for those in upper grades for pupils who have hearing and other problems.

I have a great relationship with the director of my school. Sometimes, we just sit in his office and talk, discuss general topics, and write ”memoirs” for each other. I love talking to him more than I do with my classmates, I can’t find any things in common with them. I haven’t gone to school regularly for the last two years, since I don’t understand the explained lessons anyway. Therefore, I study the subjects on my own. If there’s something unclear, I use the internet, books, and competent people. I missed school very often because it no longer made sense for me to go there when I could actually take care of myself at home, and plus, I could be busy with other things too. Despite everything, I still manage to study well and I try my best to find all useful information.

Even with so many problems, I still love school. Or rather, I love small talk in the corridors during lessons, and I love talking to the teachers during lessons or recessions.

The post Tereza Galastyan, 17 years old, Poti appeared first on WomenOfGeorgia.

I wanted to study at Iliauni or TSU, but I didn’t get enough points and instead went to Georgian Technical University. I was very nervous about it and decided to try again next year and get accepted to the place that I really wanted. I moved to Tbilisi to prepare for the exams, and, at the same time, started working in one of the supermarkets. Working there was very difficult since sometimes I had to work night shifts as well. Within a month, Ramilia Aliyeva from the Public TV Channel called me, she knew that I wanted to be a journalist and also, that I had experience working for Marneuli radio. I was called for an interview, and, as it turned out, they liked my Azerbaijani diction and I got the job on the same day. In a month, I was already hosting the show.

I was always a very active girl, I also had male friends; I often traveled from the village to Marneuli and because the bus runs from our village only once a day, I also had to use the taxi. Therefore, people in the village often said bad things about me. They said that I was too open-minded and that my father should really care about me and my future. My father once even told them that I was his child and it was none of their business where I’d go. He always told me that he couldn’t see a problem being friends with boys and he believed in me. I often locked myself in the room and thought about what I had done that people would say such horrible things about me. Even now it’s not easy, but I try not to pay attention to it and they can think whatever they want.

You Georgians have more freedom than we do. The women of my village stay home most of the time, since the only public place in our village is the teahouse, where women aren’t allowed, and you can’t even stand in the center of the village. Women and girls should sit at home, or visit each other only during the day. When a girl has a Facebook or Instagram account, it’s also considered bad manners. I’ve had social network accounts since school and I also shared photos online. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with posting my photos on my own page. I started attending training in the 8th grade, where I found a lot of friends from different regions, so I needed Facebook to communicate with them and also to get news. When I started working on television and they saw me, the same people who were previously said horrible things about me, completely changed attitudes, they began saying ”what a cool girl you are”, ”we are proud of you!” and so on.

The post Sema Gasanova, 19 years old, municipality of Marneuli appeared first on WomenOfGeorgia.

,,I was 29 years old when I emigrated and came back after 14 years.

My sister was very young when she had a brain aneurysm. The chance of survival was only 2% but I wanted to take our chances. I was married then, living in Tbilisi with my husband and child. I did everything I could: I got money from private creditors and after a surgery and 46 days in a coma, I saved my sister’s life. To be honest, I didn’t get any support from my husband. I couldn’t forgive him that, and I no longer live with him. 

I returned with my three-year-old child and my debt to the village, to my mother. I have suffered such poverty! When people came to visit my sister, I was looking at their hands and what they brought. When our neighbor gave us one pot of meal, first I would feed my child, then my sister and my mother. Back then kindergarten cost 5 GEL but sometimes I didn’t even have that 5 GEL so that my child would get a free meal there. I was very worried about my responsibility: when you’re taking your child with you and take on the responsibility to raise him, either you should provide more for him, or at least the same as before. I started thinking about going abroad for work, but my mother was against it, concerned about what people would say. So, I took it into consideration. Women who went abroad for work had a bad reputation in our village. But once, when I saw my child coming back from kindergarten with wet feet because his shoes were ruined, nothing could stop me. I saved 50-50 Tetris and with 6 GEL went to Batumi in hopes I could move from there to Turkey and find a job. 

It turned out like that – I worked for 3 years in a family in Bulgaria, then a year in Azerbaijan and the last 10 years in Turkey, taking care of an old man. In the beginning, I only had a one-way ticket and a sandwich and I remember I didn’t even have the money for the toilet and the driver gave me 10 liras.

I had to work in very difficult conditions. Before I learned the language, I was working on a very low salary. I was paid 400 dollars for 24 hours a day, mostly without any breaks. I was doing a very hard job: taking care of an elder, who couldn’t do anything by himself, and also, I had to do the household chores. I only had one day off per week and on that day, I was going to another job – cleaning houses so that I would earn a bigger monthly salary. Most of the women there were struggling like that. In addition to that, you couldn’t feel safe there – if you don’t have documents, you may not even get a salary. I know many cases when women got abused, but nobody cared about it. Nobody was interested in us. Many of us didn’t have health insurance either, because in that case, you have to pay taxes and get legal documents, which, of course, means you get paid less. Everybody is trying to survive. If you’re strong enough, you’ll survive and your main goal will help you through. I know a lot of women who work like that for years, sending money, but they’re not improving their living conditions. They are wasting their life dreaming. Do you know why? because the money they send is easy money for their family members and they are spending it easy too. Once I transferred 300 dollars to my family and I arrived soon for a couple of days. I found they didn’t even have anything to eat. After that, I decided that I would not send money directly, but pay the store for the month and my family would have credit in the store to buy products. I went intending to return. Indeed, I’m very sorry for women who are slaves to their family credits and can never afford to come back. 

Migrant women have to work under pressure: First of all, we are very cheap labor abroad, women support family members and for them, that money is never enough; plus, we have to live with ”what people say about us”. A couple of times, when my mother was talking to me on Skype, she went to the neighbor to convince the whole village that I was really working in a family and not doing anything ”wrong”. Now when I see a migrant woman uploading a photo on Facebook, I know she’s doing that to show people that they are taking care of their elderly, to satisfy people’s curiosity. 

When I moved to work in Turkey, I already had a salary of 1000 dollars. I could still make some savings even when I only earned 400 dollars. My first goal was to pay back the debts, I already had up to 50,000 GEL in debt with additional costs. I contacted all the private creditors and asked them to extend the payment plan. I paid all of it in 4 years. The next goal was to build a house. All of us lived in a small kitchen. I remember when I walked by some shops in Turkey and saw some kind of beautiful trousers or jackets, I calculated its price and thought about what I could do with this money for my house. So, I resisted, always. 

I spent my best years in a struggle like this. I never saw my child go to school, neither his dance performance. I watched him grow up in photos and videos. But the only thing I knew was that I had to come back. After paying back the debts and building the house, I had one more wish. I wanted to buy a car. Before I left my husband, he told me ,,he’d enjoy watching me crash and burn”. I thought to myself, the day will come when I’ll have my house, my income, I’ll raise a great child and will have a car too. When I returned to Georgia, I visited my ex-husband. When he appeared, I horned the car and blinked the lights. He was speechless. It was such a great pleasure that it was almost worth 14 years of struggle. 

I returned to Georgia in 2016. I had some savings and I started thinking of what I ought to do. Once, in winter, I saw greenhouses in Kutaisi. I thought, if a Georgian went outside in winter, there must be money in that. I got interested in greenhouses, but I didn’t want to risk without having any knowledge. I went to consulting centers and would listen to some men in the village, what they were saying about farming, I also checked prices in the market. That’s how I collected information and decided to make a greenhouse for cucumbers. The first thing I learned was that I had to install a drainage system for a successful harvest. So, one day I brought excavators, I dipped the land, put stones in the ground and build 2 greenhouses. My mother was worried about me, telling our neighbors that her daughter put her savings in the ground. Neighbors were looking at me suspiciously, everybody looked at me like I was crazy. They gave me advice, to go to Tbilisi and buy a condo there, so I could live off of rent. 

Then there was the state grant with 60% co-financing. Most of the banks refused to give me credit, but one followed up. I wrote a business plan and got financed. After a few months, I already had 5 greenhouses. After some time, I got the trust of donors and after some time, the agro-farmer association gave me 9,000 GEL for the heating of greenhouses. 

Now I have cucumber harvest all year round. I harvest 20 tons a year. In winter prices go up to 6-7 GEL and I try to have more harvest in this season. I started at 800 square meters and now it’s 2000. In addition, I built a pig farm. When I get some additional income, I always buy land around me. I built an orchard for Alucha (Caucasian fruit) and I’m waiting for the harvest the next year. There’s demand for asparagus on the market and I’m planning to cultivate it the next year. 

In the village, who thought that I was crazy before, now there’s people asking for jobs. I have several neighbors employed. I have my own management style: everyone has their part of responsibilities and nobody does the same thing, so they can’t blame each other for mistakes. I’m a strong parent but I rather prefer him to be a hard worker and I pay him for his work, so he can take care of his needs than depend on me and my income for the whole life. As you know, in Georgia, a 40-year-old man is usually still a child and needs care. 

I don’t get profits at this moment, because all of it goes to the bank loans. In 2 years, I’ll be able to pay for it completely and then I can talk more about the income. Anyway, during this job, I grow up every day and I’m getting better knowledge and a lot of experience. I will be very strong without debt. Some time ago, I saw boys were building a greenhouse in the upper side of the village. I went there and saw their work. I told them they made a mistake using thick pipes, which can’t get hot enough and the heating can’t power them. They didn’t believe me since I’m a woman and wouldn’t know a thing. They finished harvesting in February; I’m still getting the harvest.

Lately many men ask me to marry them. Where are so many divorcees and widows coming from?! I told them I have a child, a house, my own business and a car; why would I need a husband? To just take care of them and wash their socks?! Just why? No men can bring me happiness! Any one of them would start sticking their nose in everything I already do. And then they will start putting me in their frame; I’m just independent like that, I can’t live in someone else’s frame. So, I prefer to be on my own, moving slowly, but always forward.”

The post Keti Tomeishvili, 48 years old, Vani appeared first on WomenOfGeorgia.

Microcephaly is a condition when the brain is three times smaller than normal and the brain folds are broadened. Ioane was also diagnosed with epilepsy and has been having prolonged seizures since he was seven months old, and it damaged his brain even more — more than half of his brain is already atrophied. Because of this, we stopped the therapy and exercises, which was supposed to help his physical development. He can’t sit independently; his motor skills are limited.

At first, of course, we were afraid. However, getting all the information I could before his birth was a tremendous help. I found out everything I could, and I knew what I would have to do. But there were still problems I couldn’t handle. For example, when he started having strong seizures, they could last for an hour, two, or sometimes even for four-five hours… After turning 7 months old the seizures shortened in length. It’s me who calls them short, but even a half-hour is a long time for a seizure, but considering Ioane’s condition, it looks like a faint to me. Then we also had occasions when we got just in time in the hospital, he was already blackened and couldn’t breathe. It was then that I realized what a mother feels when she loses a child. Going through these seconds and minutes, all of my fears were gone. I was afraid of little things before, but all of that went away and only this fear remained. 

Although we don’t live together anymore, the father of my children helps me out as much as he can. Their father and his mother are people I can trust blindly, they’re taking great care of him and they know every single detail. When Ioane is sick, we spend almost 20 days or two weeks per month in the hospital and I have to be there all the time. When that happens, Tsotne stays with his father and grandma. In fact, Beka’s mother has raised Tsotne for the last two years. When I was pregnant, I got him already used to the fact that he would have a little brother. I didn’t want him to be jealous of his brother and when Ioane was born, I tried to arrange permanent contact between them. We have started from elementary things, putting on socks, helping change diapers, taking care of him; I always tried to get him involved in everything and he liked it too, he was with me and Ioane all the time. It gave good results. However, there was a period when Ioane often had seizures and I had to be in the hospital for two weeks or more, I was rarely at home so he was angry at me for being lonely. If I was at home, he didn’t come to me, didn’t greet or hug me… Then it went away. I always talk to him and explaining the situation. I never tried to distance him from Ioane’s situation. On the contrary, I believe he has to know everything. 

When Ioane’s seizures start, the first thing I do is giving him Diazepam. If it doesn’t help, then I call an ambulance. Then my options are exhausted and I alone can’t help him — his breath is inhibited. There are periods of seizures so frequent that even his daily medications aren’t enough. How I’m dealing with it psychologically, I don’t really know. Sometimes I take it all too hard. When something like this happens and Ioane has a two-hour convulsion, I stand there and I look like the undisturbed, heartless person; I can’t express my emotions. Until all this is over and Ioane’s at home, I remain strong, but then, when I realize that he’s calmed down, then’s when it all hits me. I have my moments of weakness, but I don’t stress too much. I know that it’s my job, it’s my responsibility, I made the decision and I have to handle it myself. I made this move deliberately and I’m happy with my decision. I don’t regret it even for a second. 

I call Ioane ,,Iokodzuna” because he looks like a little sumo wrestler with his fat rolls, facial expressions, eyes and the main reason – he is the number 1 for me, the strongest and the most fighting person. 

Ioane doesn’t have a disability status, I had to collect some documents and then he got measles, we had a terrible period that lasted long and I didn’t have the time. When he’ll get a status, we’ll have some benefits. 

Many people think, that if a person has to face a problem like this, it’s a tragedy. No, this is not a tragedy, on the contrary, it’s a great source of power. Ioane gave me such strength in my life, he has changed my life, my views, I appreciate things I would never even think about. The only downside is the pain. There were situations when I couldn’t keep him calm for two or three days, he was in my hands 24/7, he couldn’t sleep, and nothing helped. That’s when I thought for a second, why should a baby feel pain like this?! if he was born to suffer so much, then I don’t want it, I’d prefer if I didn’t have him and I’d suffer instead of him. But then I realize that I have Iokodzuna and Iokodzuna is very strong. There are questions about his life expectancy. I don’t know and I’ll never know, but until he’s alive, he’ll be the happiest person in the world. He is such an honest, loveable person that he can’t bring anything but happiness. This is the most wonderful thing for me.” 

Author: Nino Gamisonia

Photo: Salome Tsopurashvili

The post Sopo Jokhadze, 24 years old, Tbilisi appeared first on WomenOfGeorgia.

I was born in Kazbegi. My father had three girls and was disappointed he didn’t have a boy. We girls were doing everything not to make him feel the lack of a son and weren’t doing bad ourselves either. Nowadays, as he sometimes tells me, a son wouldn’t be as resourceful as me.
I studied at the economics faculty and then worked for a long time in the Revenue Service in Rustavi, until my husband moved to Kakheti for work and I had to leave my job to move with him. My father also partially influenced me to follow the man’s lead. I was distanced from my work while I lived there, and when I and my husband separated after living together for 12 years and I returned to Kazbegi, I found it hard to find my place and realize myself.

I was 36 years old when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I can’t say I took it as a tragedy, but my sisters and other family members took it pretty hard. I remember, when my little sister cried before the surgery for the first time, this was a big shock for me and I realized then that life could end shortly. My mother, taking my emotions into account, wasn’t discussing it with me — I was doing the same. This disease was like a gift to me – I had to come out of my shell and go somewhere. The most interesting thing I found was the feeling of the significance of a human as if everything else loses its meaning. I become more empathetic and forgiving.

After the surgery, I had to undergo several chemotherapy treatments. I remember, when I was rejuvenating, I needed to talk to someone a lot, and my sister helped me with that. I constantly thought about the future, what I would do, how I’d get my self-confidence back and where to find my place.

Once, in summer, tourists visited me from Israel and asked, “Do you have a shower?” — they conveyed in gestures what they meant. They stayed in my home for a few days and then, they were sending more tourists the whole summer. That’s how I tried my fate in tourism 7 years ago and got successful in it too. I always tried to improve my house to make it more comfortable for my guests. It’s really interesting that in the beginning, it was hard for me to look at tourism as a business since hospitality has always been our habit and how could we take money for that?!

One more barrier was my lack of knowledge of English. I used to gesture a lot and my foreign guests and partners also helped me with that. In general, I feel very comfortable when I have business relationships with women, business done with them always gets to the end and successfully, too. We have similar experiences and better understand each other’s struggles. I remember one summer I had a lot of guests. I was working alone back then and had to do everything by myself – cleaning, cooking dinner. One evening when I went to the kitchen to wash a pile of dirty dishes, my guests, girls, told me: Ketino, you’re tired, go get some sleep. I thought I would lie down for the night and take care of the dishes the next day. In the morning, I found the whole kitchen clean as a whistle and a note with a smile that had “kiss” written on it. I realized this was the girls’ doing. I put on red lipstick, kissed the paper and put it back. We had so much fun that morning. That’s how I slowly started to learn and remember English words. Now I can talk on the phone and get the other side to understand what I’m saying, and I can understand them too.

My life’s interesting. I haven’t been to every country, but the countries are coming to me and I get to know their culture and people. A Ukrainian cook, famous in England, Olia Hercules, wrote in her famous culinary book about my Mokhevian dinner receipts and published them together with my pictures.

Tourists often ask me where our men are, because only me, my mom and my sisters are handling the business. I have my own explanation: During the Soviet Union, our men used to live like kings, easily earning money and taking care of the family, then the union dissolved, there were no jobs, and men no longer understood what to do. It was the women who took charge to save their children. If there’s any reason Georgia survived in this period of time, it’s only because of Georgian women’s persistent care for their families. The hospitality business is still led by women.

A few years ago, a local development group was created in Kazbegi, based on the experience of the EU countries, which I became an active member of. Through this group, the local community is involved in solving the village’s problems. This approach enabled locals to do a lot of things. Our experience is very useful and municipalities would be wise to bear it in mind. Since we’re surrounded by everyday life here, we can understand the village’s needs better. By my own initiative, we have solved the garbage problem in the Gergeti road turn, added garbage bunkers, numbered the streets. Now we have the initiative to make Kazbegi more attractive in winter by creating a skiing ropeway. The main challenge is to get the local government to listen and believe us.

I’m now planning to create a women’s club in Kazbegi. Women in the regions find it difficult to communicate with each other because there are fewer places for women to gather. I’d like to create a place where women can go and have a heart-to-heart conversation, sit down and talk, share ideas and teach each other stuff. When ideas are born, it’s women who make them come to life and we need a place to share them. We women work hard and need a strong foundation for improving rural life.

Also, I would like to create a rehabilitation center in Kazbegi for women with cancer. I know how difficult it will be – if you are not strong enough and have nobody at your side, it’s hard to get the hope back in your life. I want to speak to such women, provide information and be in touch with them, I want to bring them the will for life back and help them find their way, as I myself did once.”

Author: Maiko Chitaia
Photo: Nina Baidauri
Translation: Mariam Kajrishvili

The post Ketevan Sujashvili, 51 years old, Kazbegi appeared first on WomenOfGeorgia.

Both of our parents suffered political repressions. Shortly after my father was sent to GULAG, my mother was arrested too. In those days, it was happening a lot – they uprooted entire families. In my father’s case, the pretext was that his brother was a refugee in France. Somebody told my uncle he was on the blacklist and they were going to arrest him. So, he escaped. Later he sent us a letter saying he managed to get to France through Turkey. Friends of his, who were members of The First Republic, helped him to reach there. There he died and is buried in the Leuville cemetery. There were spies all around back then. Somebody dobbed my father in as an unreliable person for the communist party as his brother lived abroad. Father was also a wealthy man and would lend everybody a helping hand. At this time of the year, my father together with the village elders used to open a granary to give out seed corn to the peasants. Father did a lot of charity – that was perhaps the reason why he was repressed. He didn’t reach the destination – his heart had failed him and he died on the way. He is buried in Ufa.

They’d brought some trumped-up charges against my mother, who worked as a secretary in one of the shopping centres, so following dad’s exile, she was also arrested. Having been released two years later, she returned home with bones disease and died the painful death soon after. I lived at my relative’s in those days. They’ve brought me to Bakhvi for her funeral. Being a small child, I could hardly realize anything. I was just nervously picking my skin. From then on, I used to often sit under the tree and cried why I hadn’t had a mother.

Escape of the sisters.

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These things happened in 1937-1938. My sister and I were very young back then. Our old grandmother, who was staying with us, suddenly had a heart attack and she also passed away. Two little orphans, we were left all by ourselves. My sister had to stay at one of the neighbour’s, and I was taken by a relative to another village. I, of course, appreciate they’ve done so, but the price was also high; I had to carry a heavy load, work all day and sometimes even get punched. I even hate to remember appalling conditions I had to live in back then. There was only a primary school in that village. Having left it, I went to school in Bakhvi. My sister also went there, and when we met, we decided to stick together and live on our own. I ran away from the relative’s home, and my sister left neighbour’s. We came to our parents’ house and started to live there. Before us they were renting it, letting in all kinds of people, so the house was an utter mess, robbed and filthy. Eventually, we managed to collect some stuff – some brought us a broom, some – a bucket, and so we settled in our home again. I was thirteen and my sister about fourteen when we started living alone.

We had a large yard full of grapes, other fruits and nuts, which we used to sell. Apart from that, the head of the collective farm turned out a good man; he opened a nursery in our house and paid us rent. In winter, when tea-picking was over, they were closing the nursery piling the furniture in one room, so that they could pay the rent in winter too, for us to have some daily bread. Later, parents’ house collapsed – this one has been built by my husband in the same yard, we just slightly changed its position.

Obstacles
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We lived all alone and would often leave the door open, but feared nothing. In the village, nobody has ever made us afraid. Quite the opposite, everybody was helping and supporting us. So we, two little girls, grew up with the help of the village and each other. After leaving the school, my sister went to university, graduated from the philology department and worked in this profession. I couldn’t continue studying as my student sister needed some support while in Tbilisi. So, I started working and helped her as much as I could. However, after some time I still managed to do a one-year clerical course here in Ozurgeti.

I’ve encountered obstacles while starting a job. For instance, one of the neighbours found a part-time typist’s work in the collective, but the chair hesitated. I found a job shortly after having done clerical courses, yet here I had to face challenges as well because I was a daughter of the repressed. Finally, the director found a way and appointed a cleaner officially; family members of the repressed could only do grunt work. And informally I’ve worked as a clerk at two places for many years – at the public school and Davit Andghuladze Music School.

New repressions
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I definitely do not miss the Soviet Union as the Russians have always been abusers, but I miss those living conditions. Nowadays, I feel more oppressed as I’m getting older. Back then they all used to feel for us, and now they often remind me I’m 80. For example, at the bank, when they find my age, it turns out I’m not allowed to take a 2-3-month loan. This happens all the time, they remind me every day I’m old and useless. Say, the government; couldn’t they spare extra 10 Gel pension raise for old people to buy medicines?! Medicines already cost a fortune, so now you tell me the difference between those repressions and this one. Thank God I have a good daughter and son-in-law, who work and take care of me. If not them, I wouldn’t survive. But what about people who don’t have anybody to support them? Nobody cares about us, peasants. It is peasants, who can work and provide this country if enabled. However, nobody would lend me money to start a farm on my one-hectare land. I’m capable of working physically, and I still work in my kitchen garden.

I feel no support from the government. Take this for example; they sent me to one of the practices assuring I was their patient according to my state insurance. As I went there, they told me in the practice they didn’t have ophthalmologist and audiologist – doctors that old people need most, not the ones to make them younger. Well, I went to another practice. There they told me I wasn’t their patient and I should’ve paid. Very well, you’ll pay what it takes, but then you have to wait in a queue to get the papers. Next, you have to queue to get to the doctor. Meanwhile, you’re getting so annoyed you don’t need any doctor anymore. Is it in the nature of things? Being a citizen of this country living in this particular region, shouldn’t I have a right to go to the doctor wherever I want to?! What kind of law is that?! Is it what happens in all the other countries?! It is because of those technical obstacles I haven’t used a penny out of the state insurance. They don’t have what I need anyway…

Author: Ida Bakhturidze
Photographer: Nino Baidauri
Translation: Nino Suramelashvili

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