Outside the US, public opinion surveys suggest that most people would prefer a Barack Obama victory in the American presidential election. But Georgia is different - and it's not just because of John McCain's remarkable display of traditional dancing skills and wine-bibbing prowess when he visited this country a couple of years ago. Find out why here. The photo (by Ana Iaseshvili) shows Georgia's new Minister for Refugees making his preferences clear.
Friday, October 31, 2008
McCain for Georgia
Outside the US, public opinion surveys suggest that most people would prefer a Barack Obama victory in the American presidential election. But Georgia is different - and it's not just because of John McCain's remarkable display of traditional dancing skills and wine-bibbing prowess when he visited this country a couple of years ago. Find out why here. The photo (by Ana Iaseshvili) shows Georgia's new Minister for Refugees making his preferences clear.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Twisted Firestarters
The slogan is somewhat ironic considering that this box of matches was bought in the Georgian capital, Tbilisi, a couple of weeks after the war.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Beyond the Checkpoints
A brief snapshot of post-war life in the troubled Gali region of Abkhazia, where ethnic Georgians are becoming increasingly isolated after Russia's recognition of Abkhazia's claims to independence from Georgia. From my column in The Moscow Times.Torrents of rain hammered down as our rusty Volga saloon bumped and splashed its way along the potholed highway towards the Russian checkpoint on the approach to Gali, the frontier town on the edge of Abkhazia. Not far out of Gali, lines of Russian armoured personnel carriers stood menacingly in a field by the roadside, while Russian military installations appeared to have been reinforced significantly since my last visit, just before the war in August.
In Gali’s waterlogged market, Georgian army uniforms were on offer at a couple of kiosks, hanging alongside black T-shirts bearing the Russian words for ‘Peacekeeping Forces’. One kiosk owner denied that the desert camouflage fatigues which he was selling were second-hand bounty pilfered from Georgian military bases when they were occupied and stripped by Russian troops during the war. But the uniforms looked distinctly authentic.
On a nearby street corner, new propaganda billboards had been erected, depicting the Abkhaz and South Ossetian leaders walking down a red carpet in front of ranks of militiamen, and young people jubilantly waving Abkhaz, Ossetian and Russian flags.
Although it’s under Abkhaz control, the Gali region is mainly populated by an estimated 40,000 ethnic Georgians. It has long been a tense and uneasy place, both impoverished and war-scarred, but since Moscow recognised Abkhazia as an independent state, the future for its inhabitants has become even more uncertain.
It is now more difficult for them to cross over into Georgian-controlled territory, as the Abkhaz authorities firm up their ‘border’. The dilapidated United Nations bus service which used to take people across the frontier bridge to trade or visit relatives has been suspended, and the only transport across the divide is a horse-drawn cart.
Some of Gali’s Georgians have other ways of getting across, but although their economic lifeline hasn’t been cut completely, it has certainly been damaged. They are also under pressure to give up their Georgian citizenship and take Abkhaz passports - something which many see as unacceptable.
Nevertheless, one Georgian woman told me that the situation in the area hadn’t changed much since the war. “It was hard then, and it’s hard now,” she said. “One thing is different though: the Abkhaz are happy because Russia has recognised them.” However, she said she was now thinking of finally abandoning her hometown for the Georgian capital, Tbilisi, for the sake of her eldest child who is approaching university age. “I don’t want him to study in Abkhazia,” she explained. “Who knows what kind of things they might teach him at their university?”
In Gali’s waterlogged market, Georgian army uniforms were on offer at a couple of kiosks, hanging alongside black T-shirts bearing the Russian words for ‘Peacekeeping Forces’. One kiosk owner denied that the desert camouflage fatigues which he was selling were second-hand bounty pilfered from Georgian military bases when they were occupied and stripped by Russian troops during the war. But the uniforms looked distinctly authentic.
On a nearby street corner, new propaganda billboards had been erected, depicting the Abkhaz and South Ossetian leaders walking down a red carpet in front of ranks of militiamen, and young people jubilantly waving Abkhaz, Ossetian and Russian flags.
Although it’s under Abkhaz control, the Gali region is mainly populated by an estimated 40,000 ethnic Georgians. It has long been a tense and uneasy place, both impoverished and war-scarred, but since Moscow recognised Abkhazia as an independent state, the future for its inhabitants has become even more uncertain.
It is now more difficult for them to cross over into Georgian-controlled territory, as the Abkhaz authorities firm up their ‘border’. The dilapidated United Nations bus service which used to take people across the frontier bridge to trade or visit relatives has been suspended, and the only transport across the divide is a horse-drawn cart.
Some of Gali’s Georgians have other ways of getting across, but although their economic lifeline hasn’t been cut completely, it has certainly been damaged. They are also under pressure to give up their Georgian citizenship and take Abkhaz passports - something which many see as unacceptable.
Nevertheless, one Georgian woman told me that the situation in the area hadn’t changed much since the war. “It was hard then, and it’s hard now,” she said. “One thing is different though: the Abkhaz are happy because Russia has recognised them.” However, she said she was now thinking of finally abandoning her hometown for the Georgian capital, Tbilisi, for the sake of her eldest child who is approaching university age. “I don’t want him to study in Abkhazia,” she explained. “Who knows what kind of things they might teach him at their university?”
Friday, October 10, 2008
"We Have Lived Without Them, We Can Live Without Them"
From an early age, children in Abkhazia are instilled with patriotic fervour for their "independent republic".In a classroom at School Number Two in the capital, Suhkumi, there is a memorial to those who died fighting during the war, as there is in most schools there.
"They defended our homeland and we should remember them," an 11-year-old schoolgirl said, pointing to black-and-white portraits of the fighters who she described as heroes. "They gave their lives for us and for peace in our country."
More from my piece on youth in Abkhazia for the Al Jazeera website here - including an audience with Abkhazia's number one rapper.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Sukhumi Drive-By
The authorities in Abkhazia flexed their military muscles at the recent, Soviet-style 'independence day' parade in Sukhumi. Their tanks were accompanied by planes, helicopters and various other pieces of military hardware, in what seemed to be a direct post-war message to the Georgian government. The mood was almost ecstatic in the city that afternoon (and rather intoxicated later on in the evening). People were partying extra hard after Abkhazia's recent recognition by Russia - although the only other country to follow Moscow's lead so far has been Nicaragua, and this place still looks set to remain somewhat isolated.The southern Gali region of Abkhazia seemed to be packed with Russian armoured vehicles which had apparently been pulled back from Georgian-controlled territory after the war. Russian checkpoints also seemed to have been significantly fortified. Some of the ethnic Georgians who live in Gali told us they were worried about rumours suggesting that thousands of Russians could be resettled in abandoned houses there, which would inevitably increase tensions.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Unknown Soldiers
Some notes from the aftermath of the war here - from my column in The Moscow Times.On a remote country road, a short drive into the hills above the Georgian capital, Tbilisi, is a scrubby patch of land where bodies wait to be claimed. Dug into the rocky, yellowish soil are around 40 small black markers, each bearing a different number but the same two words: ‘Utsnobi Jariskatsi’ - ‘Unknown Soldier’.
Next to the graves, a single, small Georgian flag hangs limply, while wilting flowers from the mass burial ceremony (pictured in photo) lie discarded on the ground. Just opposite, an abandoned blue Lada lies on its side by a half-derelict building. There is no sound in the Mukhatgverdi cemetery apart from the agonised wailing of an elderly woman; a mother grieving for her son who went to fight for his country and never came home again.
This desolate roadside may not be the last resting place for the unknown soldiers of last month’s war. The numbers on the temporary headstones refer to DNA samples which will, hopefully, allow the fallen to be matched with their families and buried in a more dignified manner later.
But it is still unclear exactly how many Georgians died during the five-day war with Russia. Government sources currently put the number at around 300 - 115 of them soldiers. It’s also unclear how many remain people missing; one official has suggested that more than 1,000 are yet to be found. The government has set up a commission to co-ordinate the search for the dead and missing, but the uncertainty about casualty figures has made some people uneasy.
Meanwhile, tens of thousands of internal refugees have yet to return to their homes in the conflict zone. Indeed, many of them will never be able to go back, because their houses in South Ossetia have been razed to the ground. The huge tent camp in the town of Gori, close to South Ossetia, remains full to capacity. Heavy rains in recent days gave another warning that winter is bearing down fast, and the authorities are under pressure to rehouse people before the weather turns for the worse.
On the highway from Tbilisi to Gori, where the Russian army maintained its checkpoints just a few weeks ago, construction workers are now labouring intensively to build new mini-villages from scratch. Red roofs can now be seen where, less than a week earlier, there was only bare earth and grass. These little hamlets will provide much-needed shelter for those who have lost everything. But, like the war graves, they will also be an enduring reminder of how much has been lost, and why.
Next to the graves, a single, small Georgian flag hangs limply, while wilting flowers from the mass burial ceremony (pictured in photo) lie discarded on the ground. Just opposite, an abandoned blue Lada lies on its side by a half-derelict building. There is no sound in the Mukhatgverdi cemetery apart from the agonised wailing of an elderly woman; a mother grieving for her son who went to fight for his country and never came home again.
This desolate roadside may not be the last resting place for the unknown soldiers of last month’s war. The numbers on the temporary headstones refer to DNA samples which will, hopefully, allow the fallen to be matched with their families and buried in a more dignified manner later.
But it is still unclear exactly how many Georgians died during the five-day war with Russia. Government sources currently put the number at around 300 - 115 of them soldiers. It’s also unclear how many remain people missing; one official has suggested that more than 1,000 are yet to be found. The government has set up a commission to co-ordinate the search for the dead and missing, but the uncertainty about casualty figures has made some people uneasy.
Meanwhile, tens of thousands of internal refugees have yet to return to their homes in the conflict zone. Indeed, many of them will never be able to go back, because their houses in South Ossetia have been razed to the ground. The huge tent camp in the town of Gori, close to South Ossetia, remains full to capacity. Heavy rains in recent days gave another warning that winter is bearing down fast, and the authorities are under pressure to rehouse people before the weather turns for the worse.
On the highway from Tbilisi to Gori, where the Russian army maintained its checkpoints just a few weeks ago, construction workers are now labouring intensively to build new mini-villages from scratch. Red roofs can now be seen where, less than a week earlier, there was only bare earth and grass. These little hamlets will provide much-needed shelter for those who have lost everything. But, like the war graves, they will also be an enduring reminder of how much has been lost, and why.
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