These blue days and this sunshine of childhood... Antonio Machado’s last words
Preface I didn’t mean to publish this book naively believing that after the USSR disintegration the Soviet past of Georgia would become a bitter memory. I was wrong. It turned out that the past can come back with a vengeance, especially if we can’t leave it behind. We have distanced from the country and its times, but failed to alter the mindset acquired while being part of what was called the Empire of Evil, where benevolence was scarce. The space pioneer superpower failed to produce such a simple piece of clothing as jeans. What can be more innocent than a pair of jeans? But because they couldn’t produce them, they just banned them. The banned jeans became sweeter than the forbidden fruit. The Soviet youth was determined to get them at all costs and, not surprisingly, smuggling boomed. Occasionally, there’d be a pair of genuine US brands among the jeans smuggled from all over the world. In those days every pair of jeans was believed to be American and, as the Soviet propaganda was particularly set to destroying American values, many thought the happiness lay where jeans were abundant. There was a grain of truth in such a belief because the Soviet state denied its citizens the basic civil rights, the right of property among them. One could truly be free
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only in one’s grave or rather, the authorities stopped worrying about your freedom and rights when you were safely put under the earth. Even the atheistic officials knew that sooner or later they’d be laid to rest in the same ground, so no one was denied the right to have a grave. There might have been other reasons, but the fact is that a grave was the only property people owed. Such political attitude marked the start of altering Georgian taste for the worse. For centuries, the traditional Georgian graveyards were simple and modest, while in the Soviet times the graves became overly decorated, adorned with marble tables and benches, statues, bikes and even cars. The Soviet Georgians were confident in one thing only – the grave belonged to them, so they were taken care of and zealously protected. People built and decorated them as they’d do if they had real estate property. The authorities turned a blind eye to the graveyard eccentricities. The Soviet regime principles didn’t extend to the Georgian graveyards. The Georgian authorities demonstrated more respect to the dead than to the living. However, there was one prerequisite for a guaranteed grave – one had to die ones’ natural death. If one was executed for crime, the dead convict would certainly be buried but he or she wouldn’t have a proper grave. Starting from the 1920s, thousands of executed convicts found their eternal resting place in various unmarked stretches of land across the country. Very often even the diggers assigned to the job of preparing a deep hole (not a grave) weren’t able to identify with certainty the places, especially that there were no landmarks to guide them and the work was usually done in the small hours, in complete darkness. 6
It was uncanny that one of the diggers identified a barren field as a final resting place fifteen years after the burial. He was a mere grave digger. Had he been the killer, he would make sure to forget the immense, unremarkable field. He thought he remembered the exact place where Gega Kobakhidze was buried years back. As opposed to the poets shedding teats over the graves, he didn’t weep that November night, trying to remember the spot in the moonlight. He had kept the secret for a long time only to share it fifteen years later with Gega’s mother. God knows how many people had whispered to Natela they knew the precise location of her son’s grave, but this time her mother’s instinct told her the man wasn’t lying. The man couldn’t be lying as he had no face. It was hidden under what he had seen and experienced throughout his life. Natela Machavariani immediately guessed he was dead himself, in a way, so he knew all about the other dead. For many years now Natela was approached by numerous ‘well-wishers’ claiming they could show her son’s grave. And she followed each and every one on the wild goose chase only to discover that some were sent by the KGB, others demanded reward and some just abandoned her at distant railway stations on the way to the barren plains of Siberia. It’s hard to believe in death until one faces it. It’s much, much harder to believe in the death of one’s child, especially when the authorities hide the fact and there is no way whatsoever of getting an official explanation. But there are no bans on dreaming and hoping for the better. Hope belongs to you and only you, helping you through your life, driving you ahead, impelling you to go on with your life. 7
For many years various people nurtured the hope in Gega’s mother, claiming he was seen in this or that prison or special Siberian camp. And the convicts’ parents went to look for their sons. They went not because they believed it was possible to find a trace of their executed sons in this immense, unlawful, terrifying country, but because they feared their hope would die. And the grave digger appeared when the hope was about to die. Other parents too decided they preferred to face the truth however painful it might have been. They decided it was time to know where their sons found their final resting place. So when the grave digger approached them, Natela immediately guessed he knew mush more than others before him. She knew immediately and unerringly he would be the one to bury their hope. There were few of them. The small group went in secret. It was cold and wet, but the women weren’t afraid of digging along with the men. The rain stopped from time to time, but the soggy soil was so heavy to dig that the men’s rasping breathing carried across the immense, barren, nameless filed. Natela was sure the man had remembered the precise place her son was buried, though the field had long been the mass graveyard for the executed political and criminal convicts of the Soviet regime. Those were interred at night, in utter secrecy, without coffins and indications of their names. Even the grave digger was surprised to hear his cold spade hit the coffin. Only now he recalled it was an exceptional case when the executed was buried in one. He repeated with more confidence the phrase which brought 8
the parents to the site. He knew Gega Kobakhidze lay there. The coffin was metal as opposed to the traditional wooden ones and Misha, Gega’s father, nearly fainted at the clanking sound. The women wanted to give him some water, but they didn’t have any and the nearest village was miles away. Strangely enough, no one could say with any certainty which way they had come to the field at all. On their secret trip each was trying to memorize the road they followed, but the metallic sound erased everything else from their minds. In reality, they were standing on the grassy field that covered a massive graveyard, as large as a city, underneath. Hiding the darkest history of the 20th century Georgia, the filed had accommodated those unwanted by the Soviet authorities, those brought from obscure underground dungeons to their final underground resting places. The grave digger miraculously produced some water for Misha Kobakhidze. Now only several minutes distanced them from opening the metal coffin. Gega’s parents were spared the last minute, though God only knows how many times they had lived through this very minute in their imagination. Others opened the coffin. Natia Megrelishvili immediately recognized the dead. It wasn’t Gega Kobakhidze. Before they found the burial, on that rainy 1999 day, while people with strained faces were digging, there was next to no hope of finding the grave on this open field. In reply to Natela Machavariani’s silent question, the strangefaced man said loudly: ‘This is the place, I remember for sure.’ ‘It’s been fifteen years now,’ someone remarked. 9
‘Gega’s grave is here, I remember for sure.’ The men continued to dig in silence. The sound of their quickened breathing seemed deafening to the parents standing around the hole. One of their spades hit a coffin and everyone froze at the sound, but only for a second. Then they dug the coffin out and lifted it onto the surface. When the men opened the coffin lid, Gega’s mother turned away, waiting for their reaction. The men, deeply stunned, looked at the corpse which was difficult to identify due to the lapsed time. But it was Natia Megrelishvili who said with conviction: ‘This isn’t Gega. This is Soso, it’s his jeans, there’s the sun drawn on them.’ The others looked at the open coffin again and only now discovered the deceased was wearing the jeans, unaffected by the time and the soil. The jeans looked new and there was a shining sun drawn above the right knee. Eka Chikhladze couldn’t have imagined she’d ever see Soso Tsereteli again. He was still in the same pair of jeans she last saw him wearing fifteen years ago, several days before the hijack…
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Tina Fifteen years earlier, on 18 November 1983, a young woman with a hand grenade in her hand was standing in the open door of an unsuccessfully hijacked airplane. Her face was streaked with raindrops in expectation of the finale. She was standing there with the hand grenade to near the end, to make the authorities do whatever they had planned anyway. The end was anxiously awaited after the unbearably lengthy siege of the plane. By then everyone could only dream for the end to come soon: both those watching the events from the outside and those sitting inside. Some passengers and crew members were dead in the bullet-ridden plane, their corpses left lying in the aisle. Some were wounded – the silence of the plane was interrupted by their moans. One of them begged Tina not to explode the grenade. For a long time Tina gave no answer, but finally, as if to herself, said, with a touch of regret: ‘Calm down, lady, it isn’t even real.’ But the lady still looked beyond herself with horror, just like other passengers. Among their faces Tina searched the face which was the dearest to her. Finally she found it and looks into Gega’s eyes, but only briefly. Their eyes meet only for a second since exactly at that moment the special forces, which were positioned atop,
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stormed in and the plane filled with white smoke coming from above… Ever since her childhood, Tina was stunningly beautiful. Boys found her extremely attractive and liked her and made eyes at her wherever she went: school, art or English lessons. But when she grew up, it simply began to irritate her because her beauty was always emphasized and remarked upon. It seemed to Tina that boys were mostly interested in her beauty, while she herself believed she was more interesting. Possibly, for that very reason, before meeting Gega, Tina hadn’t been in love with anyone. Tina was already a student of the Fine Arts Academy when Gega saw her painting somewhere, by chance, and made sure to find the phone number of its author. The author of the painting had such a voice that she would have believed anything Gega told her. He told her that he liked her painting very much and that he wanted to meet her, but also that he wanted to tell Tina, right away, that he was physically handicapped. For a long time afterwards Gega couldn’t explain why he had joked so meanly, although Tina’s reply at the time simply stupefied Gega. ‘It doesn’t matter whether you are handicapped or not, since the main thing for me is the personality.’ The girl, who had a very childish voice, was more like an angel than a student of the Fine Arts Academy of Tbilisi, and Gega hung up immediately. It was probably more due to confusion and unexpectedness, since he really hadn’t expected such an answer. He really didn’t think a modern girl living in Tbilisi could be like that and he deeply regret12
ted his ugly joke and even tried to justify himself by the fact that he had not revealed his true identity to Tina. Gega was a young actor, extremely talented and good-looking, only 22, but had already played successful parts in several films, so he was well known in Georgia and extremely popular in Tbilisi at that time, especially among teenage girls. That was exactly what Gega didn’t want – he didn’t want to use his popularity, and that was why he made up the story about being handicapped and unable to move around without a wheelchair. Gega thought it over for a bit longer and considered that backing up would be worse, so he dialed Tina’s telephone number again. ‘Hello,’ said Tina in that very childish voice which Gega had already missed, though he felt, once again, lost and awkward, so he coughed to clear his throat. Gega was considered the most talented among young actors, but now it was clearly difficult for him to play this part. Suddenly he felt embarrassed that his professionalism was becoming arguable even for himself. ‘This is me again,’ he finally managed to say into the phone very hesitantly and cleared his throat once again. ‘Where did you go?’ Tina sounded genuinely surprised. ‘Nowhere. The connection simply broke.’ ‘What were you saying?’ ‘When?’ ‘Before the connection died.’ ‘I said I was physically handicapped and that I can’t move without a wheelchair.’ ‘That’s ok, if you have nothing against it, I can come to your place and bring my paintings.’ ‘Oh, no, I don’t want to bother you and also…’ 13
‘Also what?’ ‘Also I am at home all the time anyway, as it is, and I prefer to meet somewhere.’ ‘I see. I didn’t want to trouble you, but everything turned out the opposite way.’ ‘Let’s meet wherever you tell me.’ ‘I’ll come wherever you prefer.’ ‘I prefer to come to the Arts Academy after the lectures.’ ‘How will you recognize me?’ ‘Well, you’ll recognize me easily. I don’t suppose someone else like me is going to have a date in front of the Academy.’ ‘I’ve already told you I understand your situation well…’ ‘But I still think it isn’t particularly pleasant that some handicapped in a wheelchair is waiting for a beautiful girl like you, after the lectures…’ ‘A beautiful girl like me? How do you know what I look like?’ ‘I don’t, but whatever you may look like, your friends will still be surprised to see your handicapped admirer in front of the Academy.’ ‘My life is only my business.’ ‘Tomorrow?’ ‘Tomorrow what?’ ‘Can I come tomorrow?’ ‘Our lectures finish at three tomorrow.’ ‘I’ll come by three. I’ll be standing at the monument, I mean sitting.’ ‘I’ll come as soon as the lectures are over.’ ‘Till tomorrow then.’ ‘I’ve probably tired you already.’ 14
‘Oh, no, how can you say that…’ Gega really was not tired but he didn’t want to continue the conversation, or rather he couldn’t continue it, so he said goodbye to Tina and hung up. Then he smiled because of some strange pleasure or joy at discovering that apparently there lived completely different girls in this city, maybe very few of them, maybe only Tina, but still… Gega also realized that Tina couldn’t be lied to anymore, as it really was a bad joke and Tina seemed to be the last person whose feelings Gega wanted to hurt. He spent the whole night thinking, listening to his favourite vinyl discs and had already decided that the next day he would definitely go to the Fine Arts Academy, meet Tina, explain everything to her and apologize. He had already made up his mind but still couldn’t sleep until the morning. He kept thinking of Tina’s strangely childish voice – the girl who was not like others. At noon he came by Dato’s place. Dato Mikaberidze was Gega’s friend and had a real Wrangler jacket, which Gega liked very much, but had never mentioned this to him, since Dato was very open-handed and would have immediately taken the jeans jacket off and given it to Gega as a gift. Dato was generous not because his father worked at the Ministry (foreigner tourism) and wouldn’t certainly leave his beloved son without jeans. No, that wasn’t the reason. Dato was simply very generous, period. But that morning Gega decided to ask Dato to lend him that Wrangler jacket for a day, more precisely, for half a day – he would meet with Tina, apologize and return the jeans jacket to the owner in the evening. 15
He called loudly from the street and Vazha, Dato’s younger brother, looked out of the window. Vazha’s nickname was Simpleton and he was a king lad, like his elder brother. Gega greeted him with a raised arm: ‘How are you?’ ‘Alright.’ ‘Shouldn’t you be at school?’ ‘It burned down.’ ‘When?’ ‘This morning, it’s still burning.’ ‘Wow! Where’s your brother?’ ‘Dunno. He wasn’t home when I woke up.’ ‘You were probably woken up by the fire engines…’ Both laughed loudly and heartily. Gega waived goodbye to Simpleton, turned round but Vazha wouldn’t let him go: ‘Did you want anything?’ ‘Nothing, I’ll come by later.’ ‘Come on, tell me.’ ‘Nothing special. I just wanted to borrow the Wrangler jacket for a day.’ ‘Wait.’ Simpleton disappeared from the window and in several seconds was already standing in the street, in front of Gega, with the jeans jacket in his hand. ‘Take it, Dato wears it all the time but left it behind exactly today. You’re really lucky.’ ‘No, I’ll get it from him later.’ ‘Take it, it’s really mine, Dad bought it for me but it turned out too large for me. Dato wears it temporarily. It’s going to be mine anyway. It’s a real Wrangler. It’s not gonna wear or anything…’ 16
Gega smiled and stretched out his hand to Simpleton. ‘I will bring it back today.’ ‘Whenever you want. It’s still too large for me anyways. If you want, you can have it until I grow up.’ Gega laughed at this loudly. ‘And what about Dato?’ ‘Dato’s going to be a monk, he won’t need jeans anymore…’ Now Vazha laughed loudly along with Gega who suddenly remembered that Dato really had a friend at a monastery and he often went to see him lately. Once or twice he had promised Gega to take him as well, but so far these were only promises, though Gega did not have the time to think about this at the moment. He thanked Vazha and gave him a Tbilisi-style hug. Meanwhile, Tbilisi had been the capital for fifteen hundred years and, like in any capital, many good things happened there as well as bad things. The worst thing that could have happened to Gega was that on his way to the date, as he started to climb the street that went up to the Fine Arts Academy, three lads with knives met him and demanded that he take off the borrowed jacket. In those days the old-timers still used to stroll in that part of the city and that’s why it was a bit strange for some lad to say to Gega: ‘Hey, man, come over for a sec, I’ve got some business with you’ and invite him into a residential building entrance. Stranger though was that no one who knew Gega seemed to be passing by. The weirdest part for Gega himself was that, when he discovered in the entrance two other similarly “happy” guys, he was not at all scared. Quite the opposite, he even found himself smiling 17
and calmly telling them: ‘Don’t waste your time, guys, you can’t take it off me anyway!’ Gega was an actor, though only 22, but already quite accomplished. In that entrance he spoke very calmly like a person deeply confident in oneself and such composure surprised Gega himself, most of all. It surprised him because Gega never claimed to be a hero and knew perfectly well that in Tbilisi, at that time, it was not at all rare for jeans to be taken off people and, like others, he had thought about how he would behave in such a situation. And he had always thought that he would never let himself be killed, since he was not a supporter of senseless heroism especially that there simply was no need of it. In another place and at another time he would probably have wordlessly, and with a smile, given up what they were demanding, but on that day he acted differently, and that was probably because the jeans jacket wasn’t his. Also, maybe because he was on his way to the first date with a girl he hadn’t met yet, but who had a very beautiful voice… Two of those three had knives and, before they ran, both of them managed to stab Gega. In Tbilisi of those days, most stabs were aimed at legs or buttocks, even during fights. But apart from the legs, Gega was also wounded in the stomach and that was probably because, without realizing it, they had also cut the jacket which they simply failed to snatch away from Gega. When Gega came out onto the street he managed to take a few more steps, but having lost a lot of blood, soon lost consciousness. He fainted right there, on the pavement. 18
When he opened his eyes he was lying in a hospital ward. His mother was crying at the head of the bed, but silently, very silently and was carefully stroking Gega’s hand. ‘Where is Tina?’ Gega asked looking at his mother. ‘Who is Tina?’ his mother said drying her surprised and wet eyes. ‘I don’t know, haven’t met her either,’ said Gega after a little while and smiled at his mother. Gega was right as he really hadn’t met Tina, who waited for a long time after the lectures in front of the Fine Arts Academy, where a handicapped boy in a wheelchair was supposed to be, but no one came to meet Tina. How could Gega have made it to the date if exactly at that moment, he was operated on at the hospital? He able to call Tina only in several days. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come nor call either, because I’m still at the hospital.’ ‘How nice.’ ‘What’s nice?’ ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it, I wanted to say something else: it’s nice you had a valid excuse for not showing up that day.’ ‘I’ll meet you as soon as they let me out of here.’ ‘You know, if you don’t mind, I’ll see you at the hospital and bring you some fruit, or tell me what you like and what will make you happy – ’ ‘No, please don’t come here, they’ll soon discharge me and I’ll see you myself. Goodbye.’ ‘I hope you get well soon. ’ Gega spent several more days at the hospital visited by 19
his friends and acquaintances who treated him like a hero. By then the whole city knew that they had failed to take the jeans jacket off Gega, but Gega himself joked stubbornly: ‘I was trying to, but they wouldn’t let me.’ By this stubbornly repeated joke he wanted to say he wasn’t a hero and then – a year later – in the death row of the Ortachala prison of Tbilisi, he often remembered the hospital days when they wanted to make a hero out of him, while he wanted to be an ordinary person. They didn’t keep him in the hospital for a long time though he still found it difficult to walk, which, according to the doctors, was only a matter of time. After the operation, Gega’s friends the Iverieli brothers, who were studying at the medical college, managed to get a wheelchair for him. In the evenings, when he was finally left alone, tired from praise, he would roll in this wheelchair to the end of the corridor where a black telephone hung on a pink wall and call Tina. He met up with Tina on the very next day after he was discharged. He went to the Academy in that wheelchair as he really couldn’t move around without it, but Tina didn’t forgive him for the lie and wouldn’t talk to Gega for a whole week, though he called her every day. Gega attempted to come up with some kind of explanation, but Tina wouldn’t speak to him, though she didn’t hang up either. She was a well-brought-up girl and would listen to Gega, although she wouldn’t answer. Gega attempted to explain to Tina something he could hardly explain even to himself. Indeed, what explanation could there be for the joke which couldn’t be explained by anything other than the irony of fate – the fact that Gega 20
was really forced to go to the first date with Tina in a wheelchair. Soon enough he gave the wheelchair back to the Iverieli brothers, who returned it to the hospital. Dato flatly refused to take back the Wrangler jacket (well-washed from blood and carefully mended by Gega’s mother) and also, of course, promised to give Gega a pair of new jeans. In the meantime, Gega didn’t want anything but Tina, thought about nothing but Tina. Only Tina – the most beautiful girl in the world…
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