Musings Following a Feast: Etseri, Svaneti

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This could have been any supra, but as it turned out, it was the one in late January where, you know, they sacrifice a calf to… prevent the deaths of calves. Paradox much, Svans?

Although my Georgian is far from perfect, and my Svan still in its very infancy, I have realized for a while now that the perception of a combination of verbal and body language can lead one to judge the mood of a Georgian feast. This, plus relaxing into each event more as time goes on, has led me to a conclusion which I voiced at this particular feast:

“You know, if our village meetings had this same spirit, we’d get a lot more accomplished!” Hearty agreement. The infamous town halls usually break up into useless, shouting acrimony as old grievances are dug up and loudly paraded instead of being allowed to stay buried and perhaps even die. We actually have money to spend; can’t we just agree on a direction for it, please? Apparently not.

The supra, on the other hand, rarely (in my experience) disintegrates into such. Perhaps I simply don’t stay long enough: I generally leave before it’s actually over, because I’ve had enough binging, chores beckon, and comprehension is diminishing as wine (if you’re lucky) is consumed anyway. Not my comprehension, because I stay away from inebriation and its effects. But why waste one’s efforts on hours of flowery speeches and profound philosophical thoughts as these become less and less understood or appreciated by others?

Anyway, I also came to the conclusion that I was helpless with love for these people, my local friends and neighbors. I declared to them that, in the absence of my own blood family in Georgia, they have taken its place. And also that, near or far, in the next house or village or half a world away, family ties remain, stretched thin but not broken. Together, we marvel that I have found this home here, so far from my own homelands where, in any case, I own no property and don’t have the strong attachment that Georgians have to their ancestral places. Just… people, those I do have, with the missing and longing that distance brings, and the joyful reunions when my wife and I return to the UK or Canada.

My early feasts many years ago were so stressful, feeling too much pressure to drink to the bottom, not understanding enough of what was going on, standing at one side of the cultural gap and not being able to bridge it. Then I learned how to stand up for my own limits with humor instead of anger, to pace myself for the long haul instead of for a sprint, to expect the appearance of new dishes well into proceedings, and to accept it all. I’m unlikely to be able to bring about much if any change, anyway. And maybe, if poetic profundities will be forgotten in the fog of others’ slide down the alcoholic scale, the memory of one’s having been there and that it went well remains, bolstering the community’s good spirits in general. They certainly notice when you fail to turn up, and will remark on it next time, for sure! Can’t beat ’em? Join ’em, if you can find a comfortable point at which to do so, is my advice.

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 1800 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