Teah comes from Gali district, Abkhazia. Her mother died when she was a young girl and war took away the grandmother and grandfather who used to take care of her. Teah felt she grew up on the day when she truly understood that the Georgian-Abkhazian conflict is a tragedy for both nations, one steeped in the pain and tears of both peoples. Now, as an internally displaced person, she lives in Poti (1), in a collective centre. In a search for work, and to find some personal peace, she visited several cities of the former Soviet Union. And then she returned to Georgia, the place for which she had grieved all this time. Today she dreams of an “ordinary life” for all Georgians and Abkhazians, who must “forgive each other” everything. The story was recorded in Russian.
"My heart hurts"
I was born in Abkhazia, in Gali district, in the village of Khomushkuri - it is such a small village. The people who lived there were very friendly, they loved each other very much and now each time I arrive there, my heart hurts []. There has been destruction, but I worry not so much about buildings being destroyed, but because the relationships between people have changed so much.
I would say that our village is empty now. There are a few people, but those who remain there are, for some reason, very hostile and aggressive towards each other. I do not know why distrust and fear rule. People are even afraid to leave their house in the evening. They are afraid of their neighbours and in most cases they are afraid of each other. Georgians are afraid that someone will see them with Abkhazians, that they will say something about them. The same goes for the other side... They are afraid that Abkhazians will see how they are communicating with Georgians... In both cases there is some risk. I saw such absolutely different attitudes [among people] that it was hard to believe I was in my native village.
Back to top"We left our village in September 1993..."
We left our village in September 1993 because the war began. Abkhazians occupied Sukhumi and three days later, Gali too. We left at the beginning of the conflict. I remember that day as though it was yesterday, but it was 14 years ago. I was 16 years old when my whole family left, except my grandparents; they remained there. They did not leave [pauses for a while]; just I, my father, my uncle, and my cousins left that day.
My mother was already dead by that time; she died when I was 11 years old. I was brought up by my grandmother and grandfather… My father lived with us also. And so, during the conflict we left the village, and my grandparents remained. My grandfather was an invalid. I remember he was sitting on a balcony and crying [shivers, weeps]. I remember our dog, which was running around us, as though it knew that we were about to leave - not to return for a long time. Near us were also our Georgian neighbours, people very close to us; we lived on very good terms with them... I cried and Zuri, my neighbour and my mother's godson, said to me: “Teah, why do you cry? We will return after three days.” I looked at him and saw that he was crying too, because he did not believe what he told me.
Back to top"Everybody thought that we would be back soon"
We moved through (administrative border), through Dixazurga (2). I remember that the whole village gathered together and all left together, in my cousin's large vehicle. No one took anything with them, just documents. For some reason everybody thought that we would be back soon. People did not understand that it was war…
We went to a distant relative, because we had no close relatives on the other side of the Inguri river. And so all of us went to this person’s place, we were 60 people. After us, other people arrived. Can you imagine what it means when 60 people live in one house, with small children, a pregnant woman, and ill people...? It was a catastrophe…
Back to topA long and difficult journey
Then my father decided that we had to go to the Western Ukraine. But at that time there was also a in Georgia There was a struggle between the supporters of Zviad Gamsakhurdia, the first president of Georgia, and supporters of Shevardnadze, who subsequently became president. So our journey turned out to be longer than we had assumed. We went by train from Zugdidi (3) up to Abasha (4). That was as far as we could go by train as it was considered, because of the military activity, too dangerous to continue. Because of the other conflict near us, we had forgotten for a while about our conflict in Abkhazia.
My father decided that it was necessary to leave [Georgia] and save the children. I am grateful to him that we left there in time and did not see all the terrible things that happened there... And so...from Abasha up to Samtredia (5) we walked. It is a pretty long distance. It was windy and cold, there were children with us and a pregnant woman, who had a difficult pregnancy and could not walk. It was terrible. We did not travel on the main road because we had been told that it was very dangerous; instead, we moved through villages. Really, I have no idea how we reached Samtredia. From Samtredia to Tbilisi we travelled by train. Then, we continued by train from Tbilisi to Kiev and from Kiev up to Chernovtsov (6).
In Tbilisi we stopped only for the night while we waited for the train. I remember that we spent the night at the station and there were a lot of people there, a sea of refugees (IDPs), like us. I also remember how the Tbiliselians, just ordinary people with whom we were not familiar at all, were coming [to the station], bringing food and clothes. Some of them invited people to their houses to spend the night.
I still remember their warm attitude...
Back to top"When I heard a Georgian word I got very excited!"
Soon we arrived in the small town of Starozhinets (7). It is situated on the border with Poland. My sister-in-law’s aunt lived there; they were very distant relatives. There were no Georgians in this town and nobody from the Caucasus at all, and for me it was a real torture to live there. I was 16 years old and had never lived anywhere else, and suddenly I ended up there - torn away from my native place...
I remember when I heard a Georgian word in this city for the first time, I got very excited! I will tell you how it happened. I was walking down the street and suddenly I heard a guy say bad words in Georgian! I asked him: “qarTveli xar (Are you Georgian)?” We were friends with him for a long time after that...
In Ukraine people accepted us very warmly. I do not mean relatives; I’m talking about people who did not know us at all. They helped us to send the children to school. They often called out: “You are from Abkhazia, so you may need something. We wanted to bring you some apples, grapes.” We lived for eight months in Ukraine.
Back to top"Killed because they were Georgians"
After a while we decided to leave Ukraine. My father had to work, to earn money, and we had to stand on our own two feet. We decided to move to Krasnodar territory (8). It was possible to reach Georgia from there in just two days… We hoped that we could visit our grandmother and grandfather soon. But...we never saw them again...
They were killed there, in Abkhazia. We couldn't even bury them humanely [cries]. Both of them were 60 years old. They were killed for nothing - just because they were Georgians. On that day a couple of other people were killed in our village, burnt in their own houses. They were buried by their neighbours, that same day...
Two years later, my aunt often travelled to Georgia. One time, when she had decided to go there, I became hysterical, shouting “I want to go, I will not stay here,” and so she took me with her. When we arrived in Zugdidi, I could not just stay there; I wanted to go further, to Abkhazia. I was ready to go there even on foot. I did not know how but I had to go there, to my house. And when I got on the bus, I was very glad that I was going home... I knew that everything was burnt down; I knew that my grandparents had been killed; I knew that everything was different there now. But I could not have imagined how difficult the return to my native land would be.
Back to top"I began to hate everyone"
When the bus crossed the Enguri river, I saw that everything was destroyed, houses were burnt down, or the thatch roof was, or whatever remained... It was a terrible scene... When we reached the school where I had studied [in the village of Zemo Barbegi], it had been turned into a post for peacekeepers. And the school building... the school was totally destroyed. For me that was the first shock... In fact, I was in the eleventh grade when the war begun and I wasn’t able to finish school...now it didn’t exist anymore.
Then I went to our street - where I grew up, where I spent the best years of my life. It was unrecognisable. Everything was completely different... I headed towards home, at a rapid pace, trusting that my grandmother would meet me where we saw each other the last time [cries]. But, certainly, it wasn’t how I had imagined. And then...to my great shame, I must admit that I began to hate everyone who participated in this war - both Abkhazians and Georgians.
I hated everybody and I was terribly aggressive. I stayed at home only one day, and on the second day I left for Zugdidi and then I went to Russia, to Krasnodar.
Back to top"It was then that I grew up"
Sometime later, after a year, I was able to visit Sochi (9). Sochi is situated near Abkhazia, and Abkhazians go there very often. I met a lot of Abkhazians there, and all of them were dressed in black (10) and all of them had three or four photos (11) pinned to their breast. And at that moment it struck me. Yes, I had experienced great tragedy, because my grandmother was a huge part of my life; she raised me. But I also realised that others grieve too; that there are other people who have experienced even greater loss than me - some of them lost their sons, daughters, brothers...
At that moment I decided that it is a grief and a tragedy - not only mine or Georgians, it is a tragedy for Abkhazians and Georgians. At that time I was 18 years old. But it was then that I grew up...
Back to top"We should forgive each other"
And ever since then I try to speak to both Georgians and Abkhazians. It is impossible to hate each other; we have made enough mistakes without adding that one as well! We should forgive each other and ourselves too. And one more thing: there has to be the will on both sides to achieve more trust and good relations. One party alone cannot solve anything.
I think these borders [between Abkhazia and Georgia] should be opened so that people can communicate with each other. Dialogue comes first, that can lead to trust...
Back to top"It took time to trust each other"
There are Abkhazians in the place where I work. We have fine relations. They know about my tragedy and I know about the tragedies they have endured. Only after talking about our own tragedies did we truly learn about each other and start to love each other. It took time to trust each other.
It was when we believed that we understood each other’s pain, when this moment came, that we could sit down and talk openly - without aggression, without accusations.
Now I live in Poti and I work in Abkhazia, in Gali district. I have been sanctioned to do this, the document Number 9 [allows me to cross the border]. That is why I do not have problems with travel.
Back to top"We do not want this war"
I work for the Norwegian Refugee Council (12). Together with a group of other young trainers, I run training courses for youth on gender, AIDS prevention and drug addiction. A lot of young people live in Gali region now. Despite this, it was difficult to collect a group together for the first training. After the war, they went through a lot of tragedies. People used to live soundlessly, as the Russian proverb says «ниже травы, тише воды» (“below the water and as silent as grass”). Then we appeared and invited them to training sessions! And they had no idea what this meant.
But it was difficult only at the beginning. Now there are many interested people who want to take part in our trainings and they approach us themselves. We held two trainings in Tkvarcheli (13). The participants were local residents, Abkhazians. I was afraid that we [trainers, being Georgians] would not be accepted and that there would be some constraints, but luckily, to our surprise, it was easy to work, very easy. The trainings went well. We spent two fine days together. Yes - and in the evening, after training, we sat together, simply talking, and the Abkhazians mentioned this issue [of hostile attitudes between Georgian and Abkhazians] and said: “How tired we are of all this! We do not want this war.”
Back to top"There were no jobs"
I go to Gali region, conduct trainings and return to Poti. [My father and I] live in the collective centre for internally displaced persons. We are adjusting to life in Poti with difficulty - because for a very long time it was very difficult to find a job. In Georgia this is a widespread problem, not just ours. When we arrived in Poti, there were no jobs, absolutely none. My father tried everything. Poor man, he tried so hard, he tormented himself with his efforts - but it was useless.
I went for a year to Russia again, and lived with my aunt. Everybody had work there, and I had nothing to do. I had a lot of time and I decided to study computers. I had no idea whether I would find a job - I just decided to study. And suddenly, I got a call from Poti: "Teah, if you are able to work a computer, we have a job for you."
Back to top"Let’s forgive and shake hands"
I rushed back to Georgia at once. I started to work in a non-governmental organisation (NGO). From the beginning I trained my contemporaries in computers, then I became the coordinator of the programme and later the executive director of the organisation. I worked [in that NGO] for five years and was very successful. My father did not work then. Now he has found a job in a port. It is possible – at last - to say that; we sighed with relief. We had searched so much...wondered so much... I’ve even lost count of how many times I changed residences: I lived in Russia - in Armavir, in Rostov, in Krasnodar, in Astrakhan - and in Ukraine, and then I returned to Georgia - to Zugdidi, Tbilisi, Poti... but I always thought about and dreamed of my village.
I still dream - as all internally displaced people probably do - of returning to my native land, to my village, and that my village will be the same as it was before. My village as I said is small, and each family has lived through a tragedy. But, I still dream of returning there. And my innermost dream is that people can live an ordinary life, that they respect each other, that all have jobs, that... []. In general, I dream of such an ideal land, where all people will be happy.
I want to say to all the people: love each other! Let's forgive and shake hands. If we want to live an ordinary life, with a pure conscience, it is necessary for us to create it!
(1) City in western Georgia
(2) Village in Gali district
(3) City in western Georgia
(4) City in western Georgia
(5) City in western Georgia
(6) City in Ukraine
(7) A town in Ukraine
(8) In the Russian Federation
(9) City on the Black Sea coast of Russia
(10) In Georgia, relatives of the dead at certain times wear black clothes as a sign of their grief
(11) According to Abkhazian custom, during mourning people display a photo of the deceased on their chests
(12) International humanitarian organisation which has been working in Georgia since 1994
(13) City in Abkhazia
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