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Note: This blog post was began about 2 months ago. I have only recently finished it. I thought that it was important to complete it as it is part of my experience here in Georgia.

I recently just had a relatively terrifying experience here in Georgia. In the end, now that it's all said and done, I can laugh about it. But before I relate that story, first, let me start with a few words about Georgian telephone etiquette.

I've noticed that when a Georgian calls me on my phone, it is very common that they ask me to identify myself: 'Romeli khart?, they ask.' Literally, "Which one are you?" I'm quick to point out that in the American mindset this is extremely rude. I recall one instance when I was a young teen and a salesperson called my home. My father picked up the phone and gentleman on the other end asked him to whom was he speaking; which is a polite way of asking: 'Who are you?!' My father got all flustered and responded: 'I'm the one who pays the bills around here, who are you?!'  On that day, I learned the importance of being respectful on the telephone,

As a TLGV in Guria, who tries to network and welcome new volunteers to the region, I call other people from other TLG phases, whom I don't know all the time. When I make such phone calls the first word out of my mouth is the person's name. Then I follow with an introduction of who and where I am and why I'm calling.

It is my assumption that this rather odd line of Georgian questioning has evolved from home lan line usage, in which case if you have several generations living under one roof, asking, 'which one are you,' makes perfect sense.  They have simply adopted the same protocol to cell phone usage. The Georgian people are creatures of habit; a very traditional people. If something works, then why change it? And then more often than not, even if it doesn't work why change it? The number one killers in Georgia are cancer and car accidents. Logic would seem to dictate that they should ease up on the smoking and stop driving like maniacs. But change is slow to come to Sakartavelo.

Now, I shall relay my tale: It all started on a Sunday evening, upon returning from a weekend in Batumi. I came home to an empty flat as the rest of my host family were occupied elsewhere. I had put my cell phone on charge in my bedroom. I went to the kitchen to heat up some cabbage soup that my host mother had left for us. Once it was heated, I had my fill of a simple meal of soup, bread and some hot tea. Afterwards, I got on Facebook, and then checked my email. It was about 9pm by this time. This is about the time my body starts shutting down, so I decided to head to bed for the evening. 

I went to my room and took my phone off the charger. I placed the phone next to my pillow as I always do. I never turn my phone off. I crawl into bed and prepared for an evening's slumber. A few minutes later my phone started ringing. I picked it up and looked at the screen. It was the phone number of a very nice Georgian man whom I met on the marshutka coming back from Batumi. He lived in nearby Dvabzu. I had been looking for a reason to head to this tiny village. There are some other TLGVs who live there as well. I also always allow Georgians the chance to be hospitable. So, I agreed to give the guy my phone number.  As we had our entire conversation in simple Georgian and broken Russian, I assumed that it was his son calling me. The man told me that his boy spoke English pretty well. But since it was just after 10pm and I had just gotten to bed, I wasn't in the mood for making any definitive plans. So I just put the phone on silent and let it ring. It vibrated, flashed and stopped after a minute. They never called back.  

About 45 minutes later, my phone received a text message at about 10:30pm. Curious,  I, of course picked up the phone to see who this was. Upon accessing the screen, I saw that it was a single word written in kartuli script. I didn't recognize the phone number. I sat on the edge of the bed and began to sound it out. I was shocked to learn that it read: 'zangi.'  Of course, my first feeling was to be offended. I had reasoned that it was apparent that whoever it was knew who they were talking to. They knew me! This couldn't been a wrong number. I assumed that this was one of my host brother's friends playing a childish joke on me. They had done so before. But since I was sure that didn't know them, I decided to tell them to f*** off. One of my other TLG friends a few weeks before
 had given me such a message. It was given to him by another volunteer he had a Georgian admirer who wouldn't leave her alone.  In this case,  I responded with the same message. I pulled it up and sent it off. I laid down to resume my evening slumber.
 Not one minute later my phone started ringing. I picked it up and it was of course the number calling me back. I silenced the phone and put it down. Once the cycle had run, it immediately began again. I silenced it once again, and then turned the phone off. I chuckled as I drifted off to sleep. 'Take that!' I thought.

The next morning as I awoke, the events of the evening slowly returned to my groggy brain. I immediately picked up my cell phone and reactivated it.  It listed three missed calls for the previous night. I got up, put the phone down and began my morning routine. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I exited the bathroom, I heard my phone ringing. I had simply thought that it was my co-teacher informing me about classes for the day. I rushed back to my room to answer. I picked up the phone, and to my horror it was the same unknown number from the previous night, calling at 8:30am! I silenced to phone so as not my awaken my sleeping host brothers. What kind of person has nothing else better to do that bug someone at so early in the morning?! At this point, I was in an absolute state of terror. I snatched up the phone and went to bathroom an locked the door. I sat on a stool and proceeded to call my TLG regional representative. It was quite early and she was still sleeping. I apologized for waking her. I then proceeded to outlay the events of the previous evening. She told me that she would be in touch, and would contact my host brother in order to see this was someone he knew. I later texted her the number.  I hung up and went on to work. 

As I walked to the marshutka stop, I was in a totally paranoid state, darting my eyes from side then to the other. Wild thoughts of being stalked by an unknown assailant overwhelmed my mind. Who could this person be? I thought. They clearly knew my identity, but I hadn't the slightest clue as to theirs. Could it really be some sadistic friend of my host brother? Oh, my god, what if it was some sadistic, bored police officer? My host brother knows a lot of police officers and ex-soldiers with certain skill sets. Is that how they got my number?! The answers were uncertain.

I caught my bus on time. I arrived at work 9:30am as is my custom. I was sitting on the window sill, waiting for my first class to start. On that day it was set to begin at 10:15am. As I stared out the window, my mind still possessed of wild thoughts and full of questions. At about 9:40am, my phone started ringing again. I pulled out my phone to look at the screen. It was the same unknown number from before, calling me at work! I jumped up and walked toward the stair well. When I reached the bottom, I lifted the phone to my ear and I angrily said: I don't know who you are, or what you want but f*** off!' There was no reply, only dead air. I hung up and went outside to collect my thoughts.

I soon began teaching my 4th grade class. The lesson was going well. I turned to the board to write to new vocabulary words. While I faced the board, my cell rang again. I stopped writing and snatched out my phone. My co-teacher indicated that I could go on and answer it. It was my TLG Regional Representative. I stepped away from the board and walked to back wall. She informed me that she had spoken to my host brother and he insisted that it was not his friends who had been calling. He didn't recognize the number either. I thanked her for her assistance and said that we'd be in touch, if I needed something else.

I proceeded on with the rest of my day. It was clear to my co-workers as well as my students that my mind was preoccupied. I told my break and  went outside to one of the old abandoned structures. I called the TLGV who had given me the aforementioned message and let him know I had put it to good use. I then relayed the story of the last few days. I told my fears about the identity of my tormentor. He said that it could problematic if it was indeed a police officer.

I finished off the final class of the day and started the trip home. As I stood on the other side of the road, waiting for the marshutka, I noticed a white Soviet era Lada parked across the road. After it caught my attention, a man stepped from the vehicle, and slammed the door behind him. He proceeded to approach me. He was slovenly. He was wearing a dirty, 'white' sweater, unshaven; clearly a worker of some sort. Who is this? Who could it be?!! I thought. My paranoia and anxiety increased; my heart started pounding. The man was now two feet before me. He greeted me: Gamarjoba! Rogar khart?!--Hello, How are you? He extended his callous-hardened, filthy hand. I politely shook it. He indicated that he was a friend of my oldest host brother. We shared one more line of conversation and he turned to leave. I breathed a sigh of relief. I started to feel ridiculous letting every unknown figure instill me with terror. Still, I felt I had to get off the street for the remainder of the day. When the bus came, I eagerly boarded. 

When I finally arrived at the flat, my host brother immediately call me to his bedside. He was still recovering from a cold. I entered the room and stood next to the bed. He simply said: 'Give me your phone.' I relinquished it. I asked him if it was one of his friends who had be torturing me. He fiercely said, no. 'That was one time only' He proceeded to call the mysterious number and put the call on speakerphone. The voice of the caller on the other end surprised both of us. It was a hysterical woman! He asked her, why are you calling to this phone calling, calling, calling, zangi, zangi, zangi?! The old woman insisted that it wasn't her. My host brother suggested it might have been someone else, using the phone. She said that it was her alone and no one else had had access to it. After a little more non-nonsensical, we just hung up. We just sat on the bed laughing out loud for a minute or two. I then asked him, who was that? He said, she claimed she was a 60 plus year old woman from Batumi. He said had an Adjaran accent. From that day forward, that number has never called me back.

To this day, I still have no idea who that woman was; how she got my number; or what they even wanted. After thinking about it further, it occurred to me later, that perhaps, the 'zangi' message was this person, or some Georgian, asking me to identify myself-- romeli khart?--Which one are you? I'll never know for certain. But the moral of the tale is: Be careful who you give your number to!  

Black Georgian?

A few months ago, I was watching television after a long day. During a Georgian variety show I saw a Black dancer, whose name was Samori Balde. My host brother told me that he was, in fact, a local guy, raised in Lanchkuti, Guria. I was transfixed; fascinated by this handsome, young Black man who was doing a very traditional Georgian dance and doing it quite well. His partner was Georgian dancer, Lika Labadze.

I've been told that Balde's father was a student from Guinea, who had met his Georgian mother while at university in Moscow. The two were married. But sometime after the collapse of the Soviet Union, Balde's father moved back to Guinea and his mother returned home to Georgia. 

I've always been fascinated by Blacks who appear in places where you wouldn't expect to find them. Shakespears's play Othello: The Moor of Venice is good example of this. How does a Black man find himself in Venice? Not only that but also a general in the Venetian military? From the play, it is clear that Othello, is culturally as European as his compatriots and therefore is accepted as one of them. I would say the same about Samori Balde, who is culturally Georgian.

Black Exodus

As far as I can ascertain, Blacks(middle class), in the modern era, have always been a people on the move. For example, Blacks have lived and worked in France since the 1800s. According to wikipedia, unofficial figures indicate that up to 50,000 free Blacks emigrated to Paris from Louisiana after Napolean sold the territory to the United States in 1803.

During the period known as the Harlem Renaissance, spanning from about 1919 to the early 1930s, many Black writers, poets, artists, and musicians moved to Paris as well. African-Americans saw France as a much welcome change after the racism and dehumanization that they suffered in the Jim Crow United States. France must have seemed like a breath of fresh air. They were well recieved by a French population that was enamored of their blackness. This was also the period that the jazz craze was sweeping through Europe and was then in full swing. The party came to an abrupt end, however, when Hitler's Nazi forces invaded France in June 1940. Most African-Americans opted to return to the States during this period.  

The Jim Crow United States had another effect on the Black intelligensia. During the Great Depression, beginning in the early 1930s, the Black exodus had shifted from France to Russia. Stalin's Soviet Union claimed to be the new promised land for Blacks seeking a respite from racism in the United States.

At the end of the 1920s, Stalin embarked on a rapid industrialization process. Skilled workers and engineers came from all over Europe and the United States to aid in this process. The Comintern, the International Communist Party, saw racial egalitarianism as an important part of the ideological struggle between Capitalist America and the Communist Soviet Union. However, the political program, put forth by the US affiliate, the Communist Party USA, proved unpopular among Black workers. It espoused the idea of the creation of a Black Soviet Republic within the United States.

In the discussion titled, On Black Nationalism: The Negro Question, Leon Trotsky, criticizing their program wrote, "So far as I am informed, it seems to me that the CP’s attitude of making an imperative slogan of it(Black Soviet Republic) was false. It was a case of the whites saying to the Negroes, ‘You must create a ghetto for yourselves’. It is tactless and false and can only serve to repulse the Negroes." 

And it did.

Other ideological trends fought for a voice as well. Marcus Garvey, a Jamaican immigrant, believed that Blacks could never get a fair shake in the United States. He founded what was called the 'Back to Africa' Movement. It enjoyed some moderate success in the 1920s, but support for it soon petered out. This was mainly because most Blacks saw themselves as Americans and were more interested in becoming intergrated into American society. 

Blacks in the Soviet Union

Many Black intellectuals, however, were attracted to Stalin's 'Red Mecca.' The idea of a society based on economic opportunity and freedom from racial prejudice, proved all too attractive. According to a June 1990 article in the Chicago Tribune, a Black man named Oliver Golden was one such individual. Golden, born in 1892, in Clarksdale, Mississippi, had studied at the Tuskeegee Institute, majoring in agronomy. Like many other Black intellectuals, Golden, believed that only socialism could free them from the race discrimination that that they faced in their homelands. Golden, along with fifteen other pilgrims, boarded a steamship headed for Russia. In November 1931, the Golden party stepped off the boat in Leningrad.

Some of the group were avowed communists. Most were drawn to Russia by their pragmatism.They quickly found, however, that their new lives were anything but paradise. After arriving in Russia, they boarded a train for Uzbekistan the following day.

"They were primarily there to practice their trade," said Allison Blakely, formerly an associate dean and history professor at Howard University. "They were scientists and, in this country at the time, it was impossible for a black scientist to reach a high level of achievement," Blakely, author of Russia and the Negro, continued, [i]n the Soviet Union, however, they were being offered big bonus contracts. The government was paying their way. They were being given houses and maids and vacations back to the United States to induce them to renew their contracts."

According to the aforementioned Tribune article, some of Golden`s group worked at an agricultural experiment station outside the city of Tashkent, where they grew cotton, sugar beets and peanuts. The Soviets now credit Golden with helping introduce an important new strain of cotton into the country.

The poet Langton Hughes, who also considered himself a socialist, of his 1934 visit wrote, "Christmas Eve in Uzbekistan and I was miserable. But inside Golden`s neat white-painted cottage, it was jolly and warm. . . . But nothing cheered me up, or thawed me out for hours and I am afraid I did not act civilly. . . . But after a supper of stewed rabbit, hot bread, and buttered squash, I felt better."

`Hughes continued, "Christmas Day was wonderful. We even had pumpkin pie for dessert, and the tables were loaded down with all the American-style dishes that those clever Negro wives could concoct away over there in Uzbekistan. . . . They were delightfully amiable hosts, these cotton-collective Negros from America in the middle of a mud-cake oasis frosted with snow."

After three years, howevver, many of Golden's group decided to return to America. Golden, with his family, remained. He signed a second contract and moved the family to Tashkent. Unfortunately, Oliver Golden, died in 1940 of a heart ailment at the ago of 48, when his daughter, Lily was only six years of age. Bertha Byalek, Golden's wife, a white woman, remained in Russia to raise Lily alone, as her Mississippi famliy had disowned her for marrying Golden.

George Tynes, a halfback from Wilberforce University in Ohio, also remained.

Black on Red

Conversely, a Jamaican born immigrant, named Robert Nathanial Robinson, spent 44 years in the Soviet Union, much of it trying to get out. He was born in Jamaica in 1905, and was educated in Cuba, where he learned tool-making. He worked for the Ford Motor Company in Detroit. Out of the 300 workers in his department, he was the only Black one, at a time when it was extremely difficult for Blacks to get into such highly skilled positions. He was only 23 years old when he was hired by Soviet recruiters to work in a tractory factory in Stalingrad. Robinson, who had no politics, accepted the offer for three reasons: a higher salary; he feared the hostility of his white co-workers; and he feared being layed off during the Great Depression.

Soon after his arrival in Stalingrad he was assaulted by two white American workers in a racially motivated attack. Afterwards, he had reached a level of international celebrity both in Russia and the United States. To the Soviets he had became a symbol as a victim of capitalist-inspired racism.

In her paper, An African American Worker in Stalin's Soviet Union, Barbara Keys, wrote, [t]he Soviet press used the incident to demonstrate the depravity of “American capitalist morality” and to highlight the “solidarity of workers of all nations and races” that prevailed in the Soviet Union.

He was being paraded as a Black convert to the communist system. In the US, of course, he was excoriated as such. Robinson represented what they feared most: an example of why Black communism might have been disiminated and accepted among Blacks as the result of decades-long racial offenses.

Keys, continues, [i]n late 1934 and early 1935, the spotlight again focused on Robinson, when he was elected to a high-profile post on the Moscow Soviet (city council) and shortly thereafter received an award from the Soviet government for technical achievements.

Dispite these accolades, according to journalist, Daniel Schorr, author of Staying Tuned, who met with Robinson in the 1950s, in his words, found him "deeply disaffected." In his 1988 book, Black on Red, Robinson, provides a bitter account of his life in Soviet Russia. In fact, Robinson's account is the most negative view ever held by any Black worker. It has been unfairly suggested by many that most scholars ignored Robinson's account precisely for that reason.(For more on intellectual prejudice, see my post, 'Drinking Tchtcha with Stalin')

 Black Stalinists

For many, however, there has always been and will continue being those who are attracted by  the prestige of Moscow's red glow.  Some of the Blacks discussed here, if not all have been incorrigible, life-long Stalinists. Many of whom are quite famous and include poet Claude McKay, Harry Haywood, Wlliam Paddison, W.E.B. DuBois, Richard Wright, Langston Hughes, Ralph Ellison, and singer and actor, Paul Robeson and many, many others.  After Stalin's death on March 5, 1953, Robeson wrote a particularly sicking but heart-felt eulogy entitled, 'To You Beloved Comrade.' The obituary was originally published in the New World Review, April 1953. In it he wrote:

Eastern European nations [are] building new People's Democracies, based upon the people's power with the people shaping their own destinies. So much of this progress stems from the magnificent leadership, theoretical and practical, given by their friend Joseph Stalin. . . . . Glory to Stalin. Forever will his name be honored and beloved in all lands!

Less than two weeks after Stalin's death, W.E.B. DuBois, best known as the founder of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People( NAACP) in 1909 and for his book, The Souls of Black Folk(1903), like Robeson, quickly printed a eulogy in honor of his friend Joseph Stalin. His piece, 'On Stalin' was originally printed in The National Guardian, on March 16, 1953. In it, DuBois said:

Joseph Stalin was a great man; few other men of the 20th century approach his stature. He was simple, calm and courageous. He seldom lost his poise; pondered his problems slowly, made his decisions clearly and firmly; never yielded to ostentation nor coyly refrained from holding his rightful place with dignity. . . .

His judgment of men was profound. He early saw through the flamboyance and exhibitionism of Trotsky, who fooled the world, and especially America. The whole ill-bred and insulting attitude of Liberals in the U.S. today began with our naive acceptance of Trotsky’s magnificent lying propaganda, which he carried around the world. Against it, Stalin stood like a rock and moved neither right nor left, as he continued to advance toward a real socialism instead of the sham Trotsky offered.

DuBois gives Trotsky way too much credit. And, for all their posturing and bootlicking, I find it interesting that a not a single, Black Stalinist actually moved to and remained in Russia. DuBois, during a trip around the world actually did meet Chairman Mao Tse Tung in 1959 during the disasterous Great Leap Forward. His review was positive. Later, he joined the Communist Party in October 1961, but he ultimately moved to newly independant Ghana the same year. In 1963, the U.S. governement refused to renew his passport. So, he renounced his U.S. citizenship and remained in Ghana, where he died August 27, 1963, at the age of 95.

Paul Robeson died in Philidelphia, PA in 1976, having never joined the CP-USA.

Poet Claude McKay, born in Jamaica, made his first visit to the Soviet Union in 1922. Some 20 years later, though he had become disillusioned with the promise of communism and in a move that surprised his family, he converted to Roman Catholicism in 1944. He died May 22, 1948, in Chicago of congestive heart failure.

Blacks, like the rest of humanity will continue living, working and traveling in their search for truth and racial acceptance. Humanity, whatever its hue, like our baser relatives, in the animal community, seek only some semblance of happiness, food and shelter.  These men recognised that. I appreciate the fact they were able to come to socialism. It's unfortunate, however, that they were instead, embraced by Stalinism. But my study of this history has forced me to conclude that, indeed, it could have been no other way. 

Jack Barnes, National Secretary of the Socialist Workers Party, in his introduction to his book, Malcolm X, Black Liberation, and the Road to Workers Power,  wrote, . . . .in Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance, the 1995 memoir by Barack Obama, today the president of the United States[, w]riting in preparation for launching his electoral career with a race the next year for a seat in the Illinois State Senate. [H]e said that as a teenager he had looked for guidance to works by a number of well-known authors who were Black, including James Baldwin, W.E.B. Du Bois, Ralph Ellison, Langston Hughes, Richard Wright. And each of them, in different ways, ended up “in the same weary flight, all of them exhausted, bitter men, the devil at their heels.” (In all but the first of these cases, the devil was Stalinism. But that has always been finessed by Hyde Park politicians and their progressive supporters or editors.)

Something that I've heard about off and on, during my time is Georgia, is the practice of kidnapping a young woman for the purpose of marriage. This practice is simply refered to as 'bridenapping.'  I wasn't surprised to hear of such a thing. I was aware of it occuring in parts of the Middle East, as well as parts of India and Bangledesh. I was surprised, however, to learn that it continues to the present day in Georgia. It still occurs in Georgia's rural areas away from the more enlightened environs of T'bilisi.

Another thing that surprised me was to learn that this barbaric practice is, in fact, on the rise in many post-Soviet states, such as Kazakstan,Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan, Azerbaijan, Armenia, particularly the southern region of Georgia, as well as in republics within Russia: Daghestan, Ingushetia, and Chechnya. The average person would be even more shocked to learn that this practice is even more widespread worldwide, than typical media and film would lead one to believe.

Not a Georgian Thing

According to an October 2009 article in The Independant, it occurs in at least 17 different countries around the world, including parts of southern Africa, Mexico and China. The latter two are hardly backward, tribal societies. Among the Tzeltal community in the Chiapas region of southern Mexico, it's quite common to kidnap a wife. On the other hand, in China, this practice has been on the rise due to the reactionary population control policies of Beijing. Because for many years, the Chinese government has limited the number of children born to a family to one. A male child is typically the most desirable. As a result, sometimes men resort to extreme measures to procure a wife. Desperate grooms can pay kidnappers anywhere between $192 - 803USD to find them a wife. Most often they simply cross into Vietnam, where girls are a lot less scarce. Once abducted, they smuggle her back across the Chinese border to their waiting "husbands."

In Georgia, the practice is quite common in, but not limited to, the southern region. For example, in Samtskhe-Javakheti, the mixed Georgian-Armenian population, views it as accepted tradition. In fact, locals estimate that about half of all marriages envolve the bride being kidnapped. The youth of Samtskhe-Javakheti are not much different from other youth around the world. They dress in the latest fashions, and pepper their speech with the latest slang. But their attitudes are quite traditional. In a June 2006 article, on npr.com, Nika Beridze, a local youth from the region is quoted as saying, “I will never marry a girl who’s been abducted once, even if she was returned home on the same day, as her name will be stained forever,” Beridze continues. “Why would I need a woman who’s been abducted by someone else? If I love a girl, I may well want to abduct her too.”

Now in reality, quite often the abduction is not real. It can be, in fact, a pre-arranged courtship tradition between the families. In fact, I've heard it suggested that the custom of carrying one's new wife across the threshold may have its roots in bride-napping. However, many abductions are all too real.

In the minds of many women in the West, the beneficiaries of feminist movements in the industrialized countries, such accepted violence against the female gender is unthinkable. Why don't they simply run away they might ask. In order to understand this, you must understand that a Georgian woman, in the minds of most Georgian men and her family, is only worth her virginity, which must be protected at all costs.  If a girl is kidnapped, and in the worst cases, is raped, then she loses her worth as a pure chalice into which a Georgian man, can plant his seed. If her virginity is suspect, as Beridze expressed, then she would be no longer be desirable to any Georgian man. To run away, might bring shame to herself and her family. The only way the family can save face and rectify this situation is to force the victim to marry her abductor since no one else will have her.

Exogomy or Endogmy

Let's venture back all the way to the beginnings of human history. The kidnapping of a female from her clan or family, finds its roots among primitive exogomous tribes.  It is an ancient practice which goes back perhaps roughly some ten thousand years of human social history.  Within these clans, marriage inside your group was seen as incestuous. The opposite was what was called an endogomous group. This meant that you could only marry within your group. The Knanites of Karali, India are an example of this, as are the Ashkenazi Jews.

The ancient custom of bridenapping can first be observed among many nomadic tribes, who conducted sheep and cattle. It arose from a higher form of group marriage(punaluan family) evolving toward the 'pairing family'. This latter form of the family was the first time in human history that you had one man and one woman living in a single dwelling. If a man in an exogomous clan wanted a wife, he could simply kidnap a girl from another group. This form of marriage came about during a period of human history which, Lewis H. Morgan, the father of modern American Anthropology called Barbarism, during its lower period. Here, for the first time, arose the domestication of animals; livestock. This period constitutes only the second longest section of human social history. The epoch of Barbarism began about 8000 years ago. The final epoch is known as Civilization, which only came about 3000 years ago. In contrast, the first epoch, known as Savagery began about 1 million years ago, comprising some 99% of human history.(Morgan derived these terms from earlier scholars and didn't give them any pejorative sense. He had the utmost respect for the achievements of pre-civilized peoples.)

In his 1884 book, Origins of the Family, Private Property and the State, Fredrick Engles, lifelong collaborator to Karl Marx, wrote [w]hen the young man has captured a girl, with the help of his friends, she is enjoyed by all of them in turn, but afterwards she is regarded as the wife of the young man who instigated her capture. If, on the other hand, she runs away from her husband and is captured by another man, she becomes his wife and the first husband looses his rights.

So this practice, is by no means new. As previously stated, is has been enjoying a resurgence in the Caucus regions, exacerbated by the current Global economic crisis. In Kyrgyzstan, a male chauvanistic Kyrgyz identity is reasserting itself through this nomadic custom, believed to have developed in the Tien Shan mountain range, but banned during the Soviet occupation. While repression was part of Soviet rule, there were quite a few advantages for women, in that gender equality was part of the Marxist platform.

During Soviet times, the Bolsheviks, were the most advanced regime in the world, championing womens' reproductive rights. Writing in 1913, at a time when the procedure(abortion) was illegal everywhere in the world, Bolshevik leader V.I. Lenin wrote demanding “the unconditional annulment of all laws against abortions or against the distribution of medical literature on contraceptive measures.”

Along with the dissolution of the Soviet Union has brought with it the dissolution of national day care plans, guaranteed employment and education, and a return to more traditional gender roles under the guise of rebuilding national identity. According to the Independent article, up to a third of all ethnic Kyrgyz women are kidnapped brides, and some studies suggest that, in certain regions, the rates of bride kidnapping account for up to 80% of marriages. In six villages scrutinised for a recent survey, almost half of the 1,322 marriages registered were from bride kidnapping, and up to two-thirds were non-consensual.

Is it a Crime?

In theory, at least, Georgian law is tough on bride-kidnapping. Article 23 of the criminal code covering “crimes against human rights and freedoms” stipulates a sentence of four to eight years imprisonment for the offense, and if it is found to be a premeditated act by a group of people, the prison term can go up to 12 years. These laws are scarcely enforced, however. Quite often the girl decides that she doesn't wish to press charges because of the social infamy of being tainted. She ultimately, will resign herself to her fate. It's a shame really, because quite often, she is in love with someone else.

The problem, however, is that in these regions the practice is not viewed as a crime but rather a tradition. Therefore, it goes unreported to the police or international organizations. By reporting the kidnapping to the police, the word would rapidly get out that their daughter is no longer a virgin. This would be seen as even worse than the rape offense. Thus, the family would keep silent. The abductor, in most cases, is given a fine, if he's even punished at all. And in the end, he wins her hand in marriage.

Prospects for Womens' Liberation

As long as, people continue to remain silent, bride-napping 'tradition' will continue for quite some time to come. Politically speaking, it is an issue that must be taken up by the women themselves. Georgian women, as well as women from all across the Caucus region, must forge a massive social movement to challenge the tradition. The women of industrialized nations, as I mentioned before, are the beneficiaries of such social movements. To quote Thomas Sankara, 'Liberty isn't given, it is conquered!'

It is also heartening to note that the second class status of women in society has not always existed. In her 1972 introduction to Engels' book, Marxist anthropologist, Evelyn Reed wrote, [s]avage society(the longest branch of human social history). . . was based upon the collective ownership of the means of production, cooperative social relations, and complete equality in all spheres of life, including sexual equality. Due to the absence of private property, such key institutions of the private-property system as the state and the patriarchal family were nonexistent. Tribal society was a self-governing community in which the elected chiefs claimed no superiority to any other members.

Reed continues, [t]here was no compulsory family institution with the father in command, exacting subservience, obedience, and conformity from wife and children, any more than there was a coercive state apparatus. Savage society was founded upon the cardinal principles of liberty and equality for all; it was a sisterhood of women and a brotherhood of men in a tribal commune which Morgan and his cothinkers called a system of “primitive communism.” One of its most striking features was the influential and esteemed position of women.

I write this post as an update to 'Shopping in Georgia' as well as to 'Ra Ghinda?: Georgian Hospitality vs Customer Service.' In those earlier posts I outlined, the differences between customer service in the United States and in non capitalist states such as Czech Republic and Georgia. But wait. . . . 'Non capitalist, did you say?' Yes, I did. This may come to a shock to most readers. I've found that in my discussions with other TLGVs that they simply assume that because the old Soviet Union fell apart back in the early 1990s that these states automatically reverted back into capitalist countries. This is incorrect. It is an utterly erroneous assumption. I will now lay this bare based on my knowledge of Marxist theory, history, as well as some personal observations I've made during my time in Georgia.

My initial explaination of the unhelpful attitude of Czech and Georgian service workers was insufficient. It was based on a reprinted article that I had read in the Prague Post some years back.  I had made the argument that the old Soviet attitude in regards to business and their understanding of customer service was basically due to quaint custom. This fails to explain, however, why this attitude persists. Georgia became independant in 1991, roughly 20 years ago. There's been a whole generation born that doesn't remember Soviet times at all, nor even speak Russian. In that time there has been a resurgence in Georgian culture, dance and language, which had been long suppressed under the Soviet regime. There has also been a conscious effort on the part of the Saakashvili government to de-Russify the country, including the completion of the conversion of all road and street signs into Georgian and English.

If all the things outlined here are true, then why do the Soviet attitudes in the business sector persist? The only way to truly comprehend the reasons is to, first and foremost, understand that you're not dealing with a capitalist country. So, it begs the question: if it's not capitalist, then, what is it?  It is a workers' state. 

What is a workers' state?

What is a workers' state?, you may ask. This is defined as a state where private property relations in the means of production(factories, land, machines, tools, materials for the production of products) has ceased, thereby becoming state property(nationalized). Other characteristics include a state monopoly of foreign trade, state control of loans and deposits through the nationalized banks, and most importantly the working class(the proletariat) has displaced the capitalist class (the bourgeoisie) as the ruling class.

It is a historical fact that all of the countries in the Soviet Union had long ceased to be capitalist states. This is true of all of them, including Georgia, Czech Republic, Armenia, Azerbaijan, etc). There is not a single workers' state in the world where capitalist property relations has been successfuly reestablished.

A Brief History Lesson

After the Russian Revolution of  October 1917, led by V.I. Lenin, the new Red Army invaded Menshevik-led Tbilisi, Georgia on February 14, 1921. After several days of heavy fighting, the Soviet Socialist Republic of Georgia(GSSR) was declared on February 25, 1921. Bolshevik rule wasn't firmly in place, however, until 1924. Further, between March 12, 1922  and December 5, 1936,  Armenia, together with the Georgian SSR, along with the Azerbaijani SSR had become a part of what was known as the Transcaucacian SFSR(Soviet Federation of Socialist Republics). Moreover, Czechoslovakia became a satellite state of the Soviet Union in February 1948. During these periods these states, in order to better serve the Moscow Soviet beauracracy, were integrated into the economy of Soviet Russia and were converted into workers' states. The capitalist class, by necessity, was displaced as the ruling class, by the working class. There are no individual capitalists who own or run industry in any of the aforementioned states.

How Does Any of This Concern Us?

In his famous work, The Revolution Betrayed, Leon Trotsky, a central leader of the Russian Revolution, wrote, [A] victorious revolution is fortunately. . .not only political institutions, but also a system of social relations."  Further he states, "The social revolution . . .still exists in property relations and in the consciousness of the toiling masses."  What does this mean?! The answer brings to mind the old expression: When the cat is away, the mice will play. It means that workers in a country where the capitalists have been displaced think very differently than those in a state where the bourgeoisie still holds sway.

In capitalist Russia, as in any capitalist state, the principal weapon of the capitalists against the working class, is unemployment. V.I. Lenin, in his 1899 pamphlet, On Strikes, argues this point quite forcefully. 

In it, Lenin states, "If the worker demands good wages or tries not to consent to a wage cut, the employer tells him to get out, that there are plenty of hungry people at the gates who would be glad to work for low wages." In other words, in a capitalist nation, workers who need an 'attitude adjustment' can be frightened; threatened with termination or disciplinary measures.

I recall a story I was told about the view held by Turkish capitalists in regards to the Georgian workers. They say they don't want to work, but would rather stand around, socialize and smoke. They can't get a lick of work out of them!

In Georgia, it used to be extremely difficult to fire a worker because of powerful trade unions and requirements from the Ministry of Labor. This has changed recently due to pro-business, anti-working class measures on the part of the Saakashvili government. The March 2006 Labor Code, facilitated the laying off workers. But being unemployed isn't the worst thing that could befall a worker in the Georgian workers' state. Since most Georgian families own their houses or flats, there are no mortages on most homes; there is no rent to pay, nor property taxes on real estate nor land. Given the fact that half of Georgia is made up of a rural population, subsistence farming provides much of the livelihood. About 55% of Georgia's economy is in agriculture. Neighbors, friends and family share home-made wine and food from large collectives. This relation also serves to offset unemployment, which is around 4.6% in rural areas. In contrast, it stands around 26% in the cities. As far as utilities are concerned, it's only about 18 GEL($12USD) per month. Heck, granma could pay that out of her 70 GEL per month pension. If a worker has a personal vehicle, the only costs incured would be for petrol. There is no state mandate for car insurance.

In another example, a May 17, 1999 article in The Militant, described the attitude problems that Greek capitalists were experiencing in the Albanian workers' state. Those insolent workers simply refused to submit to the bosses demands. In a May 3 interview, Christos Nanos, a company representative for Rekor Albania, SA, a shoe manufacturerer, stated: "Pardon the language, but Albanians have no sense of responsibility," he said. "If somebody in the family dies, they take five days off to mourn," he said. "Do you know how many days they get in Greece? Only three. The Albanians also stay home if somebody is ill in the family, and they don't even have to produce a doctor's note. We brought technology here from Greece, but the workers don't look after the machines. They damage them just to get a break."

The article also points out that the capitalists and their bosses are fearful of the workers. Nanos, the Greek manager, indicated he was afraid to go out into the town. He lives in the plant compound and spends the whole work week inside the locked and guarded factory gate. One thing that is not lost on them is the fact that the workers are armed. Since revolting against the regime of Sali Berisha in 1997, they have kalashnikov rifles at home, and aren't afraid to use them! These are the attitudes that must be crushed in order to reestablish capitalism in any workers' state. There are many other such examples of worker militancy, such as the 1956 Hungarian Uprising or the 1980 uprising in Poland.

Organization of the Georgian Economy

In Georgia, not even the business people act like capitalists. In my previous articles, I used what I call 'residual Stalinist methods of organization' to explain the reasons for certain peculiarities in Georgian business. This is only partly true. But let me once again explain what I meant by this. It is quite common, for example, for businesses to run out of stock. 

When I venture into a store or a bar to buy a drink, whether in Ozurgeti or elsewhere, there have been times when they had simply sold out. They hadn't sold out as the simple result of a busy night. They simply didn't replace the stock; either because the manager neglected to order it or perhaps the workers who were deliverying the product were late. Perhaps they decided that it was more convenient to make the delivery the following day. I've witnessed this phenomenon numerous times in my travels about Georgia. 

Several weeks ago this is precisely what happened at the Erideli club in Batumi. They had sold out of Agro beer even before I arrived. Several weeks before in the month of March, they were closed at 8pm on a Saturday night. What kind of business person closes down their club in a coastal city on a Saturday night?! Last week at Vinyl in Batumi, they were out of  Natakhtari beer at 4pm in the afternoon. This brand is their most successful product. It always sells out first. It would make sense, from a business point of view, to keep it in stock. But, not so in Georgia. It just doesn't seem to occur to them.

What spurs this total apathetic attitude on the part of small business owners? Well, for one thing, there's no need to worry about competition. Since Georgia is a workers' state neither the middle class business owner nor small farmer (both members of the petty bourgeoisie)need fear nor compete with the big bourgeoisie because it has long ceased to be the ruling class. The Communists literally killed off the competition in 1921. The Bolshevik invasion was the best thing that could have ever happened to the small business owner.

In addition, the recent changes in the Tax Code are extremely friendly to small business owners. According to Wikipedia, [i]n 2005, Georgia enacted a new Tax Code that introduced lower, flat tax rates. The total number of taxes was reduced from 22 to only 7. The number of taxes was further reduced starting January 1, 2008, when new changes to the Tax Code of Georgia took effect that abolished the 20% social tax paid by businesses. The rate of personal income tax was raised instead, from 12% to a flat 25% rate.

One might ask then if the Georgia is indeed a workers' state, how then can the government carry out such anti working class measures against its own ruling class? This is simple to explain. The government is not the state. The government in power isn't a revolutionary one; they're not Bolsheviks. Saakashvili is certainly no communist. It is a pro-business, anti-working class, petty bougeois government in control of the Georgian workers' state. Therefore, the Georgian proletariat is both the ruling class and an oppressed class.

Not a Workers State, Not a Bourgeois State

In 1937, Trotsky wrote an article called Not a Workers State, Not a Bourgeois State. This was in response to some political opponents who had declared that Soviet Russia had ceased to be a workers' state because of the reactionary character of the government. In it Trotsky states "concentration of power in the hands of the beauacracy and retardation of the development of the productive forces, by themselves, still do not change the class nature of society and its state. Only the intrusion of a revolutionary or a counterrevolutionary force in property relations can change the class nature of the state."

Thusly, we can conclude that in order to restore capitalist social and economic relations in any workers' state, it will require a direct military assault on the proletariat; that is a bloody counterrevolution. This has yet to occur anywhere in the old Soviet Union. Therefore, until that happens, these states will continue being what they have been for the last half century. This will continue to be the reality for the foreseeable future.

I've been in Georgia now for a little more than two months. I write this post as an update to "A Stranger in Ozurgeti." What a difference a few weeks make! To those persons of color, I write this as a warning. Not to frighten but to inform. This post is an  extremely personal one, so if you don't want your views of Georgia as a humanistic utopia shattered, please don't continue. I write it because it's a series of experiences that must be told.

When I first arrived in Georgia, my observations of Georgian behavior lead me to believe that they were a humanistic people. And in general, they are. The way that I have seen Georgians relate to the handicapped or the mentally challenged caused me to believe that I had found a virtural eden of acceptance. Indeed, I have seen the Georgians approach and treat me as an equal; as a brother; as a human being. Especially after I had sampled a few glasses of their wine; more than a few. But there can be a darkside to this innocent Georgian reaction to my arrival. In recent weeks, I have experienced several incidents that have caused me to reevaluate my role here. I will here also endeavor to explain these instances.

The cynic in me was holding his breath, waiting for this bomb to drop. Surely, the Georgians can't be as innocent and as sincere as they seem. First, it started with my host brother calling me 'boy.' I mentioned this in a previous post. At first I handled it diplomatically. OK, I understood it intellectually. That's him translating directly from Georgian into English. That's how Georgian men address each other. They say 'Hey, boy.' It's the American equivalant to "Hey, man, what's up?! I didn't really appreciate being addressed in such a way. I understood it and yet, it still bothered me. This continued for a couple of weeks, I think. I even made a quip on Facebook saying, 'My host brother keeps calling me 'boy.' Apparently he never saw Moscow on the Hudson!' For those who never saw the film, it was a 1980s movie starring Robin Williams as a Russian musican who defects to the United States during a goverenment sponsored tour of New York City. In a scene in the film the character is sitting in a restaurant with a woman who befriends him. They were discussing a Black friend that he had made, when he retorts: "He is good boy." His friend informs him that Black men don't like to be called 'boy." He responds "Why?"

You see, I was dealing with the same situation. Georgians don't know anything about the history of the world outside of the old Soviet Union. They know Georgian history, Russian history and maybe the German, because East Germany was part of the Soviet Union in those days. They know nothing about Jim Crow segregation or the old south and how white southerners would dehumanize and deminish Black men by calling them 'boy.' They just don't know.

I had to give a brief pantomime presentation to a man in Kutaisi about slavery. I showed him how whites people kidnapped Black people and brought them to the Americas to work for no pay. Then I said:"Slave!" I think he understood. The word 'slave' comes from the old German word 'slav.'

One of the other things that bugs me a little is that Georgians can't tell the difference between an African and an African-American. A few times when I've gotten into a car, whether its a hitchike ride to work or a taxi ride, and the driver tries to strike up a conversation. It's weird, especially when I'm traveling;I get into the car with my cowboy hat and leather jacket. They often turn to me and ask: 'Nigeria?' But the way they pronounce it, it sounds like Niggeria?! with a hard 'G.' The first couple times I heard it, I was like: 'Excuse meee?!?!' I understand it linguistically. The Georgians don't understand the concept of hard G and soft G being the same symbol. Kartuli is a phonetic language. Each letter has only one sound. I've found that whenever you have a 'G' followed by a, e, u then the sound is hard.(goat) When it's followed by i, e, or y it's soft.(generous). Of all the places in Africa, why they pick Nigeria in particular, I have no idea. I'm just grateful that they don't think I'm from Niger. In the spirit of politeness or cultural sensitivity, one should simply ask you're from: Saidan khart? It's more acceptable.

The majority of the problems that I've had come from people that I know; the neighbors or the friends of my host family. I remember the first time I met the man on the top floor. He asked where I was from. I said 'Amerikeli me var.' He persisted, yeah, yeah, where are your parents from? 'Amerika!' I protested. I understand what he was getting at. He wanted to know what part of Africa I was from. But the subject was far too complicated, given my limited knowlwdge of Georgian. I didn't want to look foolish and say 'me ar vitsi--I don't know' without being able to explain why. Once again, they don't know either.

Another thing that I've been weary of. The aforementioned neighbor had a problem pronouncing my name. So he gave me one: Dima. For some reason this name struck. Some of my host brother's friends started calling me 'Dima.' Sometimes host bro would say, "Dima, no, Darryli." When Georgian people start calling me words that I don't understand I get apprehensive. Often when studying languages, I've noticed that some people are assholes and start calling you names to your face and wait to see how long it  takes you to figure out what it means. I had become concerned that it might have been something derogatory, like Georgian for 'demon,' or something. But I asked a man in T'bilisi what it meant. He explained that it was a nickname for the Russian name Dimitri. I dodged the bullet there, however, I believe it is very rude to name someone who already has a name. I would rather they mispronounce my given name than give me another one. This brings to mind a story that singer Mariah Carey told during an interview. She recalled this odious boss that she had on a job, who couldn't remember the names of his employees, so he would give them names. Her name was 'Echo.' Of course, she was outraged. She exclaimed, "This isn't slavery, you can't name me!" She, of course didn't keep the job.

Another name some of my host brothers friends call me is 'zangii.' This one set off the bells. I asked several people for a translation or explanation and they all told me something different. The first person I asked a Ghanaian guy, my friend, in T'bilisi. He told me that it meant 'nigger.' It's a rude term and some people use it and they don't know it's rude.  My TLG Regional rep told me that it meant 'black' but it's not bad. My host brother told me that it meant black, or you could use it for people too. You can say 'black guy;man'---zangii or 'a zangii car.' So then with all that info as close as I can figure is that if it is not as strong 'nigger' but simply means black as a form of address then, I would say it's translation would be "Blacky." Whatever it's exact meaning, I don't like it. I don't want to be addressed by it.  

Several weeks back, I was here on the computer working on a blog post and my host brother and his friends come into the flat. They turned on the television and started watching a boxing match and then a exhibition wrestling match. One of his friends wanted to get on the internet. I had been for a few hours and so said 'OK, I'll take a break.' I went to the kitchen for some beer that I had bought. The first guy got online. He was a large man with black hair. I'd seen him before but didn't know his name. I went to the bathroom for several minutes. By the time, I had come out, the first guy had gotten off and another took his place. I sat down and started watching the boxing match. After a while I noticed that my brother's friend, the first guy on the computer, was in fact not watching the match. But was watching me; starring at me! So I figured ok, he'll get bored and turn away after a while. But no, after several minutes, I looked out the corner of my eye. He still looking. So I lost patience and finally said: "What?! Ra ghinda?!" His facial expression didn't change at all. No surprise, no fear, anger, nothing. He proceeds to pantomine questions to me. He asked if I was drunk. I said, No, do I look intoxicated? He persisted that since I had had a couple glasses of beer, was I drunk right then. I persisted, no! I get it. He was trying to acertain if a Black man could hold his liquor. I don't get drunk after half a liter of Nakhtatauri, the national Georgian beer. Then he leans back on the couch and continues to observe me. He motions and cups his hand about his chin. He motions to me in questioning way. He was asking about my goatee. 'What's this about?', he seemed to ask. I recognize that Georgian men generally don't style their facial hair in this fashion. But to comment  on it is extremely rude. His quiries and gestures became even more probing and personal; and I think they assumed a more ominous or threatening tone. He made boxing jestures. At first I thought he was simply asking if I liked boxing. But as he went on it became more and more clear that I what he wanted to know did I know how to fight. I had broken my arm in Batumi about 5 weeks ago and it's a sling. I asked him "Do I look like I'm in a condition to fight?" Ultimately, he finally he bucks his hips at me inquiring if I, in fact, had liked sexual intercourse with females. I got up and left.  Such a question is, of course, triplely offensive because I don't know the guy; it implies either that he thinks I might be homosexual or even worse, not a human being at all. His facial expression never changed; didn't laugh; nothing. His eyes didn't convey a lot of intelligence. The guy was an adolecent, sociapathic asshole. Such a line of questioning is absurd.  I hadn't heard anything like that since I was in middle school. And I'm afraid to admit, I believe that the the aforementioned gentleman is a police officer!  But this, unfortunately was not to be our last encounter.

I understand my brother's friend's insensitive friend's actions. Georgians have a tendancy to be somewhat aggressive toward each other; testing each other. I notice that Georgian children can be quite brutal to one another. It's common for little boys to wrestle. It's part of Georgian culture. In fact, wrestling is probably the only Georgian sport there is. Georgian men, test each other's manhood; test their strength. Our large brutish friend was simply sizing me up! While I respect Georgian culture, I have no time to engage in such primative persuits. It brings to mind Richard Wright's scene in Black Boy, the main character finds himself at a new school and is willing to fight everyone on the playground in order to gain their respect. I have always endeavored to develop my mind and improve my cultural and social development. I've always read a lot and have strived to protect my brain. I've never really gone in for any sport, including boxing, basketball or football. My favorite games growing up were dodgeball and kickball. I certainly never followed any professional sports. I'm very strange for a Black person, most think.

A couple days later, I ran into my host brother's stupid friend again. I had gotten up from a long nap. I had to go to the restroom. Brutus was sitting at the computer using skype. I walked by and went to the restroom. When I came out ignored the guy and proceed to leave the room. As I walked by the chair, he suddenly stood up and grabbed me by my right arm; my broken arm and pulled me toward me toward the camera. He indicated that he wanted me to look into the camera and greet his friend. It wasn't like please, come say hi to my friend, but more like look at the freak who lives at Giorgi's house. I did want he wanted because he had me by the injured arm. After a few seconds, I smacked his hand away, broke free and escaped to my room. My host brother was sitting right there on the couch and didn't do or say anything. Maybe he didn't see; maybe he didn't notice. I don't know. I just wanted to get away. At that moment I felt ill. I felt like I had been violated. I felt. . . . objectified. I've heard women; feminists use this word. But I have never once in my life once used this word in relation to myself. I have experienced racism first hand in the States. A dozen neo-Nazi skinheads can call me inferior; they could call me 'Nigger' to my face and I could laugh it all off without raising an eyebrow. Once, many years ago, I met an Afrikaaner in a hostel in London who insulted Black African people. I just turned around and walked away. Being treated as an object far worse. It can be quite a traumatizing experience. I was fortunate that the skype incident wasn't worse.

Last week I was in Gori, visiting the Stalin Museum and taking photos of the monuments and statues around the town. Of course, the natives of Gori didn't want to take photos of the city sites, they wanted photos of me. Some people who came out of a wedding that we accidently crashed, came out proceeded to snap pictures of me. They asked if they could approach and get some shots. I was with another TLGV, who simply stood back and watched with interest. There about five or so photos snapped including with my own camera. I still have never gotten used to this. I should feel flattered but I still feel strange about it. I feel like I'm being objectified; as if I were a tourist attraction, like Mickey Mouse at Disney World. It's like being a celebrlty, without the perks and million dollar homes. But I still feel a tugging feeling of obligation to the Georgian people to acquiese. It just feels rude to say no. But I just wish that I knew what they were going to do with these photos and more importantly, how do they discuss the me when they display them or show them to friends. They probably just say this is a Black man we saw outside the church.

I had a wonderful time at a supra in my host brother's house in the village. The guests were impressed with my knowledge of Georgian as well as my ability to drink lots of wine. They were calling me 'brother' by the time I left the neighbors house. When I arrived back at the house, I rested on his grandmother's bed. We toached and had some more wine. Afterwards, I wondered next door to his aunt's house where I ran into my brother's cousin, whom I have met on numerous occasions. I see her more little the little host sister that doesn't live with me. While, I chatted with her, suddenly my brother's uncle wonders into the room wearing a gorilla mask! I was thinking: WTF?! He sits down next to me demanding a photograph. I allowed the photo but I was hardly smiling. It was an uncorfortable moment. I know that good old unk is fond of jokes. But to me this wasn't funny. I later deleted the photo.  

I was walking home from school last week.  I greeted several men in the street and when I got to a group of teenage boys. I started to greet them as well, when suddenly one of them yelled "Hey, nigger! Tupac, yeah!" I couldn't believe my ears. That was the first time that word coming out of a Georgian. I just turned away and kept walking.  'Oh lord,' I was thinking. This is the product of cultural imperialism. This is the result the trash that passes for music and winds up in the hands of little Georgian boys. I didn't get angry. I understood where this was coming from. The boy was trying to indentify with me and express his love of hip hop music. I've heard some songs by Tupac where every other word was the 'N' word. I don't care how much whites may appreciate Black culture or hip hop. I told my host brother and my TLG rep, that if this planet continues to turn for another 6 million years, a white boy will never be able to walk up to a Black boy and say:"Nigger!" Never! As far as I know, Eminem, is quite popular even among Black people. Probably because he's smart enough not to use that word. His vocabulary is large enough that he can dance around it.

Just the other night, I had a discussion another Black TLGV. None as traumatic as mine. But he had like myself, had learned the Georgian words that he didn't want to hear. He has been to several supras and funerals as well as church services. He recounted all the starring from parishiners; all the silly questions; unsolicited photographs with and from strangers. He said that he felt he was being shown off by the family at these events and has decided not to attend not so many of them.  He also gave me some helpful hints on how to handle some of the situations. He said when going into an event, run around and greet as many people and throw around as much Georgian as you can. That way, the guests will be on their guard as to what they say in your presense. That way they won't be certain as to how much Kartuli you actually know. They won't dare talk about you like your not there. If someone ventures to say something negative, let them know that you clearly understand. This lets them know that you paying attention and wont dare do it again. Set up a time period for photos in the beginning of the event and them after that time shut it down. Finally, this has been my biggest mistake: Don't be passive! If they address or treat you in a way that you don't like, say so! Say:"Ara! Me ar mikquars! -No, I don't like, No, No!" They'll get the idea that you too are a human being and deserve respect.

Other examples might be "Ara! Nigger, tsudi!  Ara, Ara, Ara!-No, Nigger, Bad, No, No, No!!  Ara, Gori, tsudi, ara!- No, Gorilla, Bad, No! People of color must at every uncomfortable moment tell the Georgians how we wish to be treated. Only in such a way will they learn how to treat us.