Day Five, Special Invitations

Day 5: Thursday Day 5 dawned early and began as usual. I was feeling a little under the weather, with a sore throat, body aches, and stuffiness. I had bought some local vitamin C and cold medicine the day before, and I thought they were helping. We knew it would be a long day because Lieutenant S. had invited us to visit his hometown of Gori after class. First, we concluded our presentations and discussed items requiring future attention and follow-up. Then we conducted a little role-playing exercise involving two men at a squadron bar, where one “coins” the other. This served as a prelude to presenting coins to everyone in the class. Meanwhile, Vano and Nina were arranging our trip to Gori. Eka, another Georgian who spoke Georgian, Russian, and English fluently, was to travel with us. At first, I did not think this was necessary, but I would later understand why it was so important. Eka was a very interesting person. She was about thirty-two years old and appeared to come from a wealthy family. She later revealed that she had grown up with a Russian nanny, so Russian was actually her first language. To me, she carried an aristocratic air. I later learned that she was a classically trained pianist but had been forced to let her piano go. Her father had died, and she was now responsible for supporting herself and her mother. We talked about “life getting in the way.” She had worked at the embassy for about six years. Her interpreting assignments had included an Apache Indian group touring Georgia and visiting classical musicians. She hoped to continue her language studies by learning Italian next. On the way to Gori, she told me that she had absolutely no respect for Stalin. She understood that her parents respected him and that many people in Gori considered him a hero. She did not, and she did not believe she ever would. We arrived in Gori, a relatively small Georgian town that appeared quite poor. The Stalin Museum stood near the center of town. It was in only fair condition and needed cleaning and refurbishment. The tour cost 15 lari. Because Eka was with us, we took the tour with a Georgian-speaking guide. There was much of historical interest in the museum, and I finally had the opportunity to see a copy of Iskra, Lenin’s revolutionary newspaper. After touring the museum, we went outside and entered Stalin’s personal railway carriage. It had been preserved as it was when he used it. I sat at the desk where Joseph Stalin had worked in his bedroom! It was very hot outside and even hotter inside the railway car. Stalin’s birthplace was also preserved on the museum grounds. His family had rented one room from the owners of the house, who lived in the other room. His father worked as a cobbler in the basement. As a young man, Stalin trained for the priesthood. He was also an accomplished writer and poet. The direction of his life changed after he encountered the writings of Marx and Engels. Our host for the day, Lieutenant S., was very proud to have us visit his town. He pointed out that his high school stood immediately across the street from the museum. Afterward, we went to Gori Fortress. It was an impressive structure, sitting high atop a hill in the center of town near a bend in the river. From the fortress, one could see a great distance in every direction, particularly along the mountain valleys that an approaching enemy would have used. Lieutenant S. pointed out his Army headquarters buildings northwest of us, along the road to Tskhinvali. He directed our attention toward smoke rising in that direction and told us that the Russian checkpoint was located there. It was not a good idea for us to go there. I kept joking that I wanted to go. Part of me actually did, although doing so would have created an enormous mess. Eka described an incident involving a new embassy driver and several U.S. military personnel. The driver did not know where he was going, and before anyone realized what had happened, they were approaching the Russian checkpoint. They quickly turned around and avoided an international incident. This is a good place to say more about Vano. Vano was tremendously respected by both American and Georgian personnel. If Vano said that was the way things were, then that was the way they were. He was quiet and kept a low profile, but he possessed a great deal of information and enjoyed talking once he had gotten to know someone. He rarely initiated a conversation, but he readily engaged when asked a question. One day, as we were returning to the hotel, he turned onto a side street. The street ended at a T-intersection, where a sign indicated that traffic could go only to the right. Vano looked at me and said, “That sign is for everyone but Vano.” Then he turned left. Apparently, this sort of thing happened fairly regularly in Georgia. When we reached a narrow section of the street, another driver, traveling in the correct direction, flashed his lights at Vano. I commented that the driver obviously did not know the sign did not apply to Vano. We laughed. Now, back to Gori. It was time for refreshments, which in Georgia generally meant wine, and more food. We were invited to a roadside restaurant along the route toward Tskhinvali. At our closest point, we were only twenty-two to twenty-four kilometers from Russian-controlled territory. The Russians maintained that their personnel in South Ossetia and Abkhazia were merely peacekeepers. The Georgians insisted that they were unquestionably Russian troops, and they deeply resented their presence. As we traveled along the road that day, I was amazed by where I was and what I was doing. Here I was, closer to Russian-held territory than I had ever been. Everywhere we went, people noticed us. I am sure it was a tremendous source of pride for Lieutenant S. to bring the Americans to his hometown. Small fields opened on either side of the road as we traveled through the Georgian countryside. Eventually, we reached a grove of trees where the restaurant stood. The mountains surrounding the valley in which Gori sits rose majestically on every side. Lieutenant S. had arranged everything. We were given a private room, with his friend Katiya serving as our waitress. Initially, the gathering consisted only of Lieutenant S., Hector, Eka, and me. We were later joined by two lieutenant colonels, two majors, a battalion deputy commander, and several intelligence officers. They were older than the other Georgian soldiers we had met. At first, I thought they were closer to my age, but I believe I was still about ten years older than the eldest among them. This type of gathering is both common and deeply significant to the Georgians. It is a time for carefully chosen words and the sharing of thoughts and ideas at a level we seldom achieve in ordinary daily life, particularly in the United States. A toastmaster, known as the tamada, begins a series of toasts. The toasts can be lengthy. They are followed by much clinking of glasses and many declarations of “Amen.” Certain toasts are expected, and they are offered in a particular order. A person does not have to drink the wine. I told them that I had made a promise to God that I would no longer drink alcohol, and they respected that completely. It was nevertheless important that my wineglass be filled and that I raise it during each toast. Food continued arriving throughout the gathering. It was common and perfectly acceptable for a plate still covered with food to be removed and replaced with a clean one. This could result in a great deal of wasted food, but the abundance was an important part of the experience. It did not take long to recognize the importance of the supra. This tradition is embedded deeply in the foundations of who the Georgian people are. Lieutenant S. made the first toasts before the other officers arrived. He spoke of how we could now say that we had good friends in Gori, Georgia. He told us that whenever we wished to return, whether to eat, drink, hunt, or fish, everything would be taken care of. When the other gentlemen arrived, Lieutenant S. passed the responsibility of making the toasts to the eldest man. The man spoke eloquently about the friendships being formed and his hopes for the future. He expressed the Georgian people’s hope that their friendship with the United States would continue to grow. We shared thoughts about faith and family. We spoke of how the United States had much to offer Georgia, but also of how much we had to learn from the Georgians because their society and culture reached so deeply into history. There was some concern that we had to leave early, and indeed we did, because we were expected at another event. A proper supra can continue into the early hours of the morning. We reflected that the relatively short time we had spent together that day might help open heavy doors to a prosperous and mutually beneficial future. It was a tremendously rewarding and meaningful experience. All the speeches, toasts, and conversations were translated expertly by Eka. I then understood why it had been so important for her to accompany us. As we prepared to leave, everyone lingered in the entryway and then again in the parking lot. It was incredible how strongly I already felt bonded with these people. I will always remember that day and think fondly of the Georgian officers with whom I shared a supra, only about thirteen miles from a Russian checkpoint. We shook hands and touched cheeks according to Georgian custom. I was amazed that we had already reached such a level of familiarity. Amazed and honored. Vano won the race back to Tbilisi, and that evening we attended a farewell reception for Matt’s wife. Matt was scheduled to complete his tour the following month, and his wife and mother were returning to the United States the next week. Many military and embassy personnel attended, and languages from several countries filled the room. I found myself wondering whether American forces would be stationed in Georgia within the next couple of years. As the evening continued, I realized that Vano and his thirteen-year-old daughter were attending the reception simply because we were there. I also realized that it was up to me to decide when we had all had enough. It had been a very long day, and everyone was tired. Yet the Georgians, whether from professional duty, hospitality, or both, would never have considered complaining or leaving before we were ready. It was honestly a little daunting to recognize that responsibility. I circulated quickly among our group and determined that everyone was more than ready to leave. We said our goodbyes and departed. They dropped us at the hotel. We said farewell to Eka, Vano, and his daughter and agreed that we would see Vano again at 2:00 a.m. for our ride to the airport.