Of Christmas Hijacked: Svaneti

Looks like I'm on a rant roll.

This incident actually happened a few weeks before the "Dead Food Critics" one, but it took a while longer to boil to maturity in my head.

On Orthodox Christmas, to be exact, January 7. We neighbors were over at the house of an unmarried lady aged 70 who had recently lost her sister-in-law, a widow in her 60s; one of the deceased's daughters was staying with her relative through the winter. There was to be a Christmas feast.

Men and women were separated for this one, into different rooms, only a handful of us males- led in the toasting by one of our number who was already well into his cups before sitting down.

EVERY toast was a memorial to the dead, in ever-increasing circles expanding from the house outwards to encompass hamlet, village, province, nation and beyond. Perhaps because it was so close to the last death in the house, this had to be the order of events, even though the ormotsi (40 day memorial) was past?

All I could think of, though, as the evening progressed, was: Another example of local tradition trumping Orthodoxy (or even orthodoxy, small-o). The dead: if we don't remember them, who will remember us? goes the saying. To which my heart, but not yet my tongue, responds: Who cares? In Christian belief, the dead are either in bliss or torment, depending on their faith in the Son who came to reconcile them to God. In either case, they will be preoccupied enough with their situation not to really bother about being "remembered" in the shadowy, hardly real realm which saw a few decades of their lives stutter about for a while before reality broke through, terrible or glorious.

And this day was the birthday of that Son, of all days of the year a celebration of the arrival of overwhelming, brimming-over life, not death! Why should the dead take it over? What right do they have? What needs or jealousies are these?

Eventually I broke in, as one may do with the toastmaster's allowance, and tried to make my point. It wasn't very well received, but soon after that we broke up and went our separate ways into the frosty, still-young night.

I tried again, on the short way home in the dark, with my closest neighbor, who as usual was more receptive to my wavelength, having seen enough of the outside world and heard enough in talks with me to understand where I was coming from. He did seem to get it. I let him know that I was actually quite angry, but that it wasn't the drink talking, as I'd had only a few half-glasses in wine and, as always, wasn't even tipsy.

Look, I'm not saying to forget, ignore or insult the dead; they are our dear ones, ancestors, relatives, friends, countryfolk. I, too, lost a father recently. But give LIFE its chance to be celebrated as well! This is where there needs to be more understanding of the supposed Christianity which is the dominant and accepted religion up here as almost everywhere in Georgia; although I am quite aware of the ancient and powerful pagan ways which precede it, especially up in the mountains. What is it like to live in such bondage to those who have departed this world altogether; such fear of them which is only thinly disguised as respect?

Tony Hanmer has lived in Georgia since 1999, in Svaneti since 2007, and been a weekly writer for GT since early 2011. He runs the “Svaneti Renaissance” Facebook group, now with over 1350 members, at www.facebook.com/groups/SvanetiRenaissance/

He and his wife also run their own guest house in Etseri:

www.facebook.com/hanmer.house.svaneti

Tony Hanmer