The forgotten ones

Authors: Lolita Gogokhia, Guram Makatsaria

Irakli was 4 years old when he and his family — his parents and elder sister — fled to Russia from Georgia caught up in a civil war. The exile was followed by difficulties of integration into the new society. The article throws light on the life of refugees, the most vulnerable group of the Georgian diaspora, through the eyes of its member.

Irakli has lived in a Russian town of Kursk for almost 30 years. Along with other 200 thousand Georgians, his family were expelled from the Georgian region of Abkhazia in 1993. His father, Nauri, was a sailor who had been on long journeys to numerous countries, and his mother, Nonna — was an ambulance doctor in the Gali municipality.

Irakli spent his first 4 years in Gali, a small town in east Abkhazia, in the historical region of Samurzakano. The place is known for its picturesque landscapes and a reservoir at the foot of the beautiful Satanjo Mountain. In Irakli Gali evokes one of the warmest and brightest memories — the first snow.

«I remember the day the first snow came. I guess I was about three. I remember how Dad got the sled, and I couldn't even figure out what it was and what to do with it. The snow lay no longer than a day, it melted very quickly, but I remember how we were running naked in this snow and the grown-ups were telling us off. Perhaps that's the thing I can't get out of my head,» Irakli says.

According to Irakli, he had a happy childhood, a carefree time of his life. He went to kindergarten, and his sister went to school. However, everything suddenly came to an end.

In August 1992, a fratricidal war broke in Abkhazia. In 1993, as a result of 1 year and 2 months of hostilities, most of the region's population, mainly Georgians, were forced to leave their homes. The war didn't spare the family of little Irakli. They left for Sukhumi to queue for a ferry to Russia.

«We were by the sea. There were ferries there. We were waiting for the ship. People were rapidly moving towards the ferries. Not everyone was allowed on board, there weren't enough seats. I remember it clearly, there was panic all around,» Irakli recalls.

It remains unknown how many refugees escaped by sea. The city was surrounded by military boats without license plates. People were fighting for a place at the pier, pushing their way forward"Jakhaia, G. The last day of Sukhumi // cyxymu.info. – 2017. – Blog. – URL: https://www.cyxymu.info/2017/09/posledniy-den-Sukhumi.html"×. Someone awaited their turn to come, others stayed there forever, with no chance to get away from burning Sukhumi.

«We sailed for a very long time, it was very hot. Women and elderly people were placed on one side, men on the other, and children were on the upper deck. Upon arrival we went on by train. Someone headed to Moscow, those who had relatives there, someone set off to St. Petersburg, like we did. My father's brother had been there since Soviet times. We only had some luggage and passports with us,» he adds.

Irakli believes there was no choice and people «fled where they had at least some relatives.» In Georgia, the confrontation between the supporters of Zviad Gamsakhurdia and the opposition continued. A civil war was raging in the country, and «the ongoing events in Georgia at that time were incomprehensible to us, we thought something similar might be happening in the regions. The Soviet Union was about to collapse. My uncle told us to come to St. Petersburg, because everything was stable there and there was no war.»

Just like Moscow, St. Petersburg became a haven for a significant number of refugees. The local Georgian community «Iveria», established shortly before the mentioned events in 1989, was providing humanitarian aid to the exiles. With the help of the community, relief supplies were sent to Georgia, and in St. Petersburg a Georgian school was opened for the children from refugee familiesKakabadze, B. 2000. Chronicles of the activities of the Georgian community «Iveria» in St. Petersburg. Northern Iveria, St. Petersburg. P. 10-11×.

«We stayed in St. Petersburg for two years or so. My father found a job but realized we couldn't stay with our relatives for long, so we rented an apartment. Then, for some reason, my father decided to move to Kursk. There were a lot of acquaintances from back in Abkhazia. Fate brought us together again,» Irakli recalls.

In 1993 almost all ethnic Georgians, who made up half of the population of Abkhazia, left the autonomous republic. Most of them flocked to different regions in Georgia and the second largest group – to Russia. Kursk, which is 500 km from Moscow, never became a popular place for the migration. However, according to Irakli, «there are a lot of Georgian refugees. About 100-150 people from Sukhumi and other places. There are still those who mingled with society.» Due to the bonds refugees didn't lose heart, and the caring people helped them to settle in a new place. For Irakli's family, the absence of residence permit became one of the obstacles on the way to integration in the new society.

«We knew that getting all the papers and citizenship was crucial but not easy. We were lucky to have kind people around. Everyone understood our situation and was trying to help. Everything was different back then. We didn't get citizenship until 1997. We were getting the papers, looking for a place to register at, as we didn't own any property. Many live on without documents,» Irakli recalls.

According to the «Civil Assistance» committee, tens of thousands of Georgian refugees live in Russia The position of Abkhazian refugees in the Russian Federation // Committee «Civil Assistance», [website]. – 2010. – URL: https://refugee.ru/news/polozhenie-bezhentsev-iz-abhazii-v-rossijskoj-federatsii/"×. It is quite difficult to obtain refugee status or documents for temporary asylum. Many remain stateless or with overdue documents, and are deprived of basic civil rights to free medical care or official employment. One of the reasons for the small number of refugees in Russia is an unwritten rule to deny asylum to citizens of certain countries On the simulation of the Asylum Institute in Russia: Statistics for 2020 and its brief analytics // Committee «Civil Assistance», - 2021×. Like most exiles, Irakli's family weren't granted any status.

«No status was granted, a friend temporarily registered us first in the Tula region then in Kursk, that's it. Later another friend got us a permanent residence permit. Dad had been to every single department making connections to get the paperwork moving.»

In 2006, during an acute political confrontation between Georgia and Russia, a lot of refugees were deported, including those who had managed to get the documents. According to Human Rights Watch, more than 2,300 Georgian citizens were expelled from RussiaAnti-Georgian campaign: targeted detentions and expulsion of Georgians by the Russian authorities // Human Rights Watch, – 2007.×. The mass expulsion of Georgians caused the death of 4 people. One of them, Tengiz Togonidze, died at Moscow Airport Domodedovo – he hadn't been given the first aid promptly during an asthma attackThe death of a Georgian citizen at the airport is «an unprecedented case». Radio Liberty, 2006: https://www.svoboda.org/a/267883.html×.

«There were a lot of deportations, at least in Kursk. Surprisingly, some people tried to come back, and many succeeded. Since this is a province, all know each other and things are settled easily. Maybe that's the reason why people don't want to move to big cities,» Irakli shares.

According to Irakli, he faced almost no discrimination on ethnic grounds, although initially his family experienced alienation, in particular during language adaptation.

«While in St. Petersburg, I didn't use to go out or play with the kids next door. With my family I spoke only Georgian. When I went to kindergarten in Kursk the situation began to change. It was a challenge in St. Petersburg. In kindergarten I kept silent for a very long time, and didn't even try to talk to anyone for two months. My mom told me that. Then I started to speak without an accent. I don't know how, but in the end I managed to. I can clearly remember the day my sister got the worst grade for a dictation in the Russian language at school. I'll never forget it, she cried a lot. She wrote that dictation very badly but in the end graduated from school with a gold medal, and the institute with honors. After that everyone at school set her up as an example. She's always been a role model for me», Irakli adds.

Irakli describes more episodes of ambiguous attitude towards him. For example, during the Russian-Georgian war in 2008, a lecturer at university made him choose the party.

«We had such a case. The teacher asked me whose side I was on. I replied that war was always painful, no matter what it was and from whatever side it came. I had fled from the war, and I felt sorry for the civil population and Tskhinvali. This is my pain», he says.

Despite the fact that the 2000s in Russia became a period of escalating xenophobia, including kartvelophobiaBiased, suspicious, hostile attitude towards ethnic Georgians, Georgia, Georgian language; a type of xenophobia.×, Irakli overcame the difficulties of adaptation at school and university. He was equally accepted everywhere — with interest and empathy. However, other Georgians – Timur Kacharava and Ilya Japaridze – were less fortunate. They were murdered by neo-Nazis in 2006 and 2011, respectivelyThe murder of Timur Kacharava is «an unprecedented case». RIA Novosti, 2015: https://ria.ru/20151113/1318654360.html×.

As of 2010, there were 157,803 Georgians living in RussiaRussian census 2010. National composition of the population of the Russian Federation // Federal State Statistics Service, - 2010.× . Being a minority, they are concentrated in the major cities. Irakli's community isn't big – about 800 people out of more than a million population of the Kursk regionResults of the Russian census of 2010 in relation to the demographic and socio-economic characteristics of definite nationalities // Federal State Statistics Service, - 2010.×. There is a special plot in Shchetinsky cemetery near Kursk, where only Georgians are buried.

«The community is small. We do our best to solve local issues. Some people try to introduce Georgian culture to the children, teach them Georgian language, and help each other. There's a church [Russian Orthodox], we often attend it.»

As for most diasporas in Russia, assimilation is quite a serious concern for the Georgian one as well. Despite the fact that Georgians live in many Russian cities, communities do not function everywhere. The community Irakli belongs to, unlike in Moscow or St. Petersburg lacks a spiritual center – the Georgian church. According to Irakli, Georgians eventually adopt the norms of the new society and gradually dissolve into it.

«Georgians aren't active in terms of interaction, they don't want to get to know each other. Even people from the same village do not strive for this and tend to hide as if they avoid contact. Perhaps they are satisfied with everything, like living among Russians and got used to it. If I see a Georgian surname or first name, I will immediately find a reason to start a conversation. Will find out who they are and where they're from, will invite them to my place and offer my help.».

Irakli recalls that there used to be a Sunday school in the Intercession Church of Our Lady, which he attended and where they studied Georgian language. There was a Georgian dance group «Imedi» for the refugee children, but in 2010-2011 it was disbanded. Thanks to the group, the members of the community kept in touch, and the children could immerse in their native culture and language. According to Irakli, weak involvement and a low level of cohesion became the reasons to quit the community's activities. Now the compatriots mainly meet up in Russian Orthodox churches, Georgian restaurants, at weddings and funerals.

«There isn't enough cohesion. Different generations are losing connection. Perhaps parents don't explain everything to their children, so young people don't want to be black sheep and tend to merge with local society. We need to work on this. Not always do parents pass on the attachment to their ethnic group to their children.»

While Irakli was growing up in a new country, his homeland – Abkhazia – was out of reach. Before the Civil War Gali was a picturesque place with quiet and temperate life, but today it is a ghost town. The Enguri hydroelectric power station keeps generating electricity for western Georgia. However, for Irakli, a visit to his home might still be troublesome – it's not easy to get an entry pass.

«In Abkhazia there are such restrictions as permits, so some relatives never managed to get to the territory of Abkhazia. We tried hard. First it was problematic to restore the documents, since our house had already been considered abandoned. Up to now there are a lot of houses like ours. We were lucky to get permission to enter. Gradually we began to rebuild the house which had been unattended for 27 years. There was no roof, no windows, even the wiring was pulled out of the walls. People didn't leave anything, they took everything out. We started to build it up again almost from scratch. It seems like the soul is eager to stay, but your body and mind are where your family is now,» he notes.

The objects of his past life, which he saw in his family house 12 years later, reminded of the war that had stolen his childhood.

«In 2006 I finally managed to get into our house, which we hadn't finished because of the war. I remember finding memorabilia there. I used to have a green toy «Moskvich», a pedal bike. There was a small shopping stall across the road. There I used to buy Coca-Cola or would just ask for glass bottles to put them into this «Moskvich», in the side doors. I found that bike under the house, in the cellar, if memory serves. It was still the same green, but rusty, broken, without tires, steering wheel or seat, and when I opened the doors I saw those Coca-Cola bottles in their places. I took the Moskvich out, stood there and cried. We also used to have a dog, Dotta. In front of the house my father was pouring a concrete path and the dog was running along it, not yet dried. Her paw prints are still there on that concrete,» Irakli recalls.

Fleeing war and persecution, a lot of refugees had to leave not only their personal belongings and homes, but also their whole lives. Most people go on living with the memories of their homeland and only a few take risks to return, as the situation in the region leaves much to be desired.

«For the first time after the war we arrived in 2006. On the outskirts they kept shooting and looting. I went to see my grandmother in the village. Robberies occurred. People would collect hazelnuts and be robbed right there. I was disgusted to know they could break into the house with guns and rob it just for hazelnuts. Then I quit coming. In 2009 my sister and I visited our grandmother again. We had a pass arranged in advance, issued for a limited time period. It indicates how long you are allowed to stay on the territory of Abkhazia. If you mind it in advance, this paper would be awaiting for you at the border, or the relatives might pass it. There was interrogation at the border, although nothing really serious. A lot of people are trying to get to Abkhazia from this side by the «back door», offering good money just to be taken to their relative's grave and back, but they are denied. A common case. When they see the surname, they wonder why you are heading back, who your relatives are, etc. Last time two years ago on the way there I thought: «How much longer do I have to be afraid? The 21st century is here, will they kill me for being Georgian? It's not wartime any longer». It is impossible to stay there forever, of course, but that's all we have,» Irakli notes.

Life goes on, but the desire to return never fades away. By different estimations, about 45 thousand people of Georgian origin have flocked back to AbkhaziaThe death of a Georgian citizen at the airport is «an unprecedented case». Radio Liberty, 2006: https://www.svoboda.org/a/267883.html×. It is debatable how many of them are from diaspora.

«Deep inside I would love to go back and live a quiet and peaceful life there, but the society is not as it used to be, there's no going back. Nothing is stable or clear, nothing evolves, I feel like crying. Of course, over the years I'm drawn back, but I know I won't be able to stay there. There is no decent existence, you can come on holiday, nothing more. Then you leave and the time comes again when you miss your relatives, your home, your land. The 90s are there to stay. Every issue is resolved by gatherings followed by fighting and shooting,» Irakli confides.

Irakli never gives up hope of returning . The only question is how realistic this prospect is.

«It is my historical homeland. When I was in Georgia a couple of years ago, I had a feeling, you know, of something intimate, the earth was saturated with something close, I felt like hugging the earth and the people. I was breathing in every passerby walking towards me. I felt so blissful being in my homeland.»

To the question «What would you say to those who are away from home?» Irakli replied: «Under no circumstances should we forget our homeland, our roots. Pass it on from generation to generation. Only this will save us, probably. Be proud to be Georgians. Let it be the cross you carry.»