Building for Victory

In a month’s time, people in Tbilisi will be electing a new mayor, and in the run-up to the polls, parts of the Georgian capital are being refurbished at remarkable speed. Roads are being repaired, historic neighbourhoods renovated, and across the Mtkvari river which flows through the Georgian capital, a new pedestrian bridge is being built - a huge modernist slug of glass and metal called the Peace Bridge (see photo above). Critics say it’s an oversized monstrosity, but according to President Mikheil Saakashvili, its architecture is “a symbol of Georgia’s transition from the past to a better future”, demonstrating how this country is becoming part of contemporary European civilisation.

People here often like to give monuments satirical nicknames, like the Soviet-era concrete arches (now demolished) which used to be known as ‘Andropov’s Ears’, in tribute to the former Communist leader Yuri Andropov. Some people refer to the glass dome which sits atop Saakashvili’s Reichstag-style presidential palace as ‘Misha’s Egg’, while the Georgian nickname for the bizarre but magnificent former Transport Ministry building on the edge of the capital is too obscene to publish here. And the new Peace Bridge? Due to its shape, which somewhat resembles a giant sanitary towel, scurrilous jokers in Tbilisi are already calling it ‘Always Ultra’.

Sceptics have been complaining that funds are being invested in sprucing up the urban environment just before a crucial election, and at a time when many commercial construction projects have been put on hold due to the continuing effects of the global financial crisis and the post-war economic slump here. But the authorities are determined to give Tbilisi a make-over and reverse some of its post-Soviet decay, and - politics aside - there’s little doubt that some neglected districts of the city centre will look more attractive in the months to come. Whether the money is being well-spent, however, is up to the voters to decide.

Yogurt or Vodka?

Claims were made earlier this year that the 'world's oldest woman' is alive and thriving in Georgia. The alleged 129-year-old, Antissa Khvichava, lives in a rural village and was shown playing backgammon and drinking vodka in television footage distributed to the international media by a Georgian broadcaster.

But considering how often claims about extraordinary longevity are made and later disproved, it comes as no surprise that some Georgian experts are now suggesting that it probably isn't true, according to an admirably sceptical report by Molly Corso on the Eurasianet website.

However, despite the official statistics on the average life expectancy in Georgia (75.3 years for women, 66.4 years for men), this region does have a reputation for human longevity - as illustrated by the advertisement above, which was filmed in 1977 for a yogurt company. Maybe a vodka manufacturer will now seek out Antissa Khvichava to make a follow-up advert promoting the virtues of a regular intake of strong alcohol...

Whistleblower Wins Again

Good news stories aren’t so frequent here in the Caucasus region, so when they do come along, they’re worth celebrating. Last year, Armenian environmental activist Mariam Sukhudyan was facing a possible five-year prison sentence for slander after exposing alleged abuse at a children’s home. The charges were finally dropped a few weeks ago, and in another welcome development, Sukhudyan and her colleagues won first prize at the Social Innovation Camp event here in Tbilisi last weekend with their web project aimed at combatting ecological damage to forests.

Here's more on the scandal caused by the prosecution of Sukhudyan, from a piece I wrote for The Moscow Times recently:

A young activist working as a volunteer at a residential school for orphans and children with mental disabilities exposes allegations of physical and sexual abuse. A nationwide scandal follows, with calls for a full investigation. What happens next? No, the whistleblower isn’t praised, but charged with slander and threatened with five years in prison.

That was the situation in Armenia last year, when activist Mariam Sukhudyan took the allegations of child abuse to the national media. But this month, after a long campaign, justice finally triumphed, and Sukhudyan was vindicated. The charges were dropped and a prosecution was launched against a former teacher.

A few months ago, I visited the school – an old Soviet institution on a windswept hilltop outside the capital, Yerevan ­- to find out what had happened there. The staff, desperate to prove that no abuse took place, gave me a guided tour and insisted that Sukhudyan and other activists who also worked as volunteers were deluded. “Because they were so young and inexperienced, they didn’t understand that every child here has mental disabilities and very active imaginations,” argued one staff member. Disturbing video testimony from one of the children told a different story, however.

The scandal exposed the grim conditions in some of Armenia’s ageing juvenile institutions, which child welfare experts believe should be transformed or shut down. The government has been trying to reform, but not fast enough. Sukhudyan, who is also a committed environmental activist, told me that she felt she had to speak out on behalf of those who could not. This view was echoed by the United States ambassador to Yerevan, who recently presented her with the embassy’s 2010 ‘Woman of Courage’ award, and spoke of her “determination to act in order to right a wrong, in spite of the personal sacrifices it entailed”.

Sukhudyan hopes that the case against her has helped to open up a closed system to public scrutiny. “We can already see some changes,” she said. “Interest and attention towards children in special schools has considerably grown, people are more informed about the situation.” But although she no longer faces a jail sentence, it’s clear that those in power still need to do more to protect those who can’t protect themselves.

Showdown in Shukhuti

It's just after 10am in Shukhuti, western Georgia, and an Orthodox priest is preparing to drink wine from an empty ball before the start of one of this region's most unusual sporting rituals. More from my regular column in The Moscow Times:

The huge scrum of bodies heaved its way through the village, smashing through fences, gardens and orchards, scaling walls and scrabbling across muddy ditches. Men screamed out in pain and passionate determination, grappling and grunting as they battled for control of the heavy leather ball which is the focus of the traditional Georgian ritual called Lelo Burti.

Lelo Burti is only played once a year, on Easter Sunday, and only in the village of Shukhuti. Men from the upper and lower halves of the village compete against each other in a spectacularly chaotic, no-holds-barred struggle to get the ball to a river on the other half’s side. Whichever side gets there first is the winner; there are no other rules.

It’s a carnival of barely-restrained aggression, fuelled by gallons of home-made wine. The morning before the game, players gathered to drink toasts from the empty ball, before it was packed tight with 16 kilogrammes of soil, then topped up with yet more wine.

The local Orthodox priest, who always blesses the ball before the match begins, told me that while Georgia was under Soviet rule, the authorities wanted to ban Lelo because of its links to the Church. “They wanted to destroy people’s traditions, and by doing that, they wanted to destroy their national identity. The Communists hated Jesus Christ and our Georgian traditions,” said the genial Father Saba, whose burly physique attests to his past as a Greco-Roman wrestler.

Lelo is still played in Shukhuti in exactly the same way as it has been for generations. It’s seen in Georgia as a predecessor to rugby, and injuries are borne proudly: “Of course I’m not afraid. There’s no fear in this game!” yelled one bruised and dirt-spattered player as he threw down his ripped shirt and charged back into the fray. “This is our tradition!” shouted his friend. “Long live Georgia!”

After the match ended, the ball was taken to the cemetery and placed as a tribute on the grave of a young man who died during the past year. Throughout the graveyard, mouldering balls from earlier contests lie next to headstones. A wooden table was then set up in the churchyard; food and wine were laid out, and villagers came together to celebrate, with Father Saba leading the festivities. After a day of ferocious brawling, one of the first toasts, as so often in Georgia, was for peace.