Citizen Reporter

They Felt Ignored

Over the past weeks the stories have trickled in of events unfolding in Mali. In a rush to fill a knowledge void, many of us do quick research using sources from the past and present regarding this West African nation which in the 1300’s was an empire that controlled the very lucrative precious resource trade in that region. As a standard liberal democracy of today, it was thought of as a good example of a nation. But just as we so often hear from around the world over the past decade, a coup emerges kicking out the president, and revealing that in fact – things are not ok in this ancient land. A chain-reaction of events kicks off, with not only a military group taking over the presidency, but a declaration of independence by an ethnic group in the north, which is of course followed by plentiful speculation about ties to terrorist organization and other possible horror stories.

The frequently repeated line in the press, when attempting to explain the frustration in the country and the reasons the north broke away- they felt ignored by the central government. Others, who support the coup, felt ignored as the government worked hard to appease international funding schemes and please foreign investors (particularly banks). Whether any of these reports are accurate or not, when it comes to describing how people feel in different parts of Mali – it is a familiar phrase – they felt ignored.

How often, throughout the world, despite all the communication and representation that is possible, do people say these same words when describing government. These systems are put in place, often by people who are long gone, and among their descendants – there are those who feel ignored or wronged somehow, by the very group that is supposed to address them. Some will point to economics. Some will point to regional conflicts and trauma. Then there’s religion and ethnicity. The list goes on and on when it comes to why. In a time where there is so much evidence of what we have in common across borders; needs, concerns, goals, maybe even values – we still manage to have groups who feel so ignored they would take up arms, put up borders, and make a new country despite all the hardships that may follow that decision. How did we do that, as a species, as a planet, how did this almost conspiratorial scenario take shape over and over again in various forms across the world? We seem to lose, rather than gain, the ability to live together in the same area, country, or region, regardless of differences.

While research about the planet and our history can and does reveal so many commonalities between people, people have created a reality that manages to divide us up in ever increasing ways. As a once famous fictitious kid on a Baltimore street corner once stated, “World going one way, people another.”

Beneath the Facade of Tbilisi

For Levan Asabashvili, the key to fixing Tbilisi is working on the small but significant issues to eventually change the big picture. When he looks at the crumbling facades in old Tbilisi, he sees a reality that can be changed, and a city worth saving. His collective, Urban Reactor, are one group of Georgians that have dedicated themselves to this mission, with full knowledge of the social and historical obstacles that must be overcome.

On one fine Saturday afternoon in March, Levan and I sat down in Gudiashvili Square to talk about the urban challenges Georgia faces.

What I Didn’t Tell You About Tbilisi

Its a Saturday morning and the sun is piercing the sheer white curtains in the massive windows next to this unfamiliar bed I find myself in. The screaming female voice in a language I do not recognize feels like its coming from under my bed. I thought I had dreamt it, but now seemingly awake, I hear a young male voice responding to what sounds like the stern words of a mother to a son. Above my head, the loud and unsteady footsteps of what sounds like a giggling toddler. Behind all this, just outside my window, someone attempts to start an engine that sounds like it is not willing to start, over and over. Pause. Repeat. It sounds like all of these people are in my room this morning. But they’re not. – This is old Tbilisi. Where the walls are thin and secrets are hard to keep. You may think you live alone, but you don’t really.

I step outside and Im almost run over by a 10 year old on her bicycle. She smiles as she turns to avoid me, a young sister runs behind her looking like she wants a turn to ride now. The corner grocer is chatting with an old lady, they pause to watch me walk by, both probably deciding Im another one of those occasional tourists that wanders through to look at the leaning houses and abandoned churches. When I arrive at Guriashvili Square, the old men are all huddled around the tables, I can barely see the dominoes on the table. The square is surrounded by some of the most beautiful abandoned buildings Ive ever seen, some of them decorated with political graffiti about democracy and property. Looking to the windows of a new hippy café, I can see they’re cooking up some vegetarian friendly food. I step inside and immediately get into conversation with the young bearded owner, yes this place is new, yes, it used to be a nightclub. Yes, someone got shot here but I don’t know the full story, it was in the crazy 90’s, everything was different then.

After finishing some of the finest healthy food I’ve ever had, I make my way up towards the TV tower. On my way there and back I make sure to take wrong turns. I find myself in people’s front yards and wandering through scary yet beautiful alleyways. When spotted, I just act like Im supposed to be there and I have no doubt in my mind where this alley leads me. The exact attitude I see in the face of other people I occasionally see along the way. A dad walking his daughter to school, a university student on his way to class, an old lady carrying plastic bags full of vegetables. I pass them all and soak in a sunny, normal day, in Georgia.

A good friend of mine who lives in Moscow tells me over a big Georgian dinner that night, “The great thing about Georgia, is that here you can taste real food, drink real wine.. everything has a more real flavor to it here.” I think about his words in every bite I take after that. There is definitely something to it, this genuine heart that the country has. As I wander home that night, I listen closely at the now hushed voices, Armenian, Georgian and other languages I can’t decipher, I can hear them all through the thin walls of these ancient homes. I smell the home cooked meals as I walk by the windows.

As far as national and international economics go, Georgia is said to be a dead end. But as far as life and its flavors go – Georgia is alive and well.

Satire and News in Georgia

Every nation needs someone to question, ciriticize, and even make fun of its own society. Even if people don’t always like it, making satire of the news is an essential way to unclog the social and political arteries, to prevent a detrimental heart failure. In the Republic of Georgia, there is no shortage of humor and rediculousness to be found, but chiti.ge doesn’t just go for the low hanging fruit… they see the value of pushing the so-called limits of what can and cannot be made fun of. My guest is Saba Lekveishvili, one of the people behind Georgia’s finest fake news program.

Check them out at Chiti.ge

Hope in Georgia

Almost a year since my first visit to the Republic of Georgia, I am back in Tbilisi, working here for one week. And while last year many of my conversations and observations were related to conflicts and recent history, this year I’m going beyond the surface and learning about the many layers Georgia today. What strikes me, more anything else, is that no matter who I speak with, there is a flat out – lack of hope in this country.

It isn’t the first county I’ve ever experienced with no hope for the future, back in my Portugal people are also routinely negative and resigned that nothing good will happen in the future. Like the Portuguese, Georgians have plenty of reasons to justify this outlook: Georgia doesn’t make anything the world seems to want, the average mentality does not seem to have changed much over the past 20 years, and there is good evidence that current and future leadership has neither the capability or intention to do something about the mounting issues.

Despite all the despair, present and future, here we are. Countries like Georgia, where few believe anything will progress for the better in their lifetime, ramble on. Sure, I could point out the shiny new yellow mini buses found all over town, the vast amount of young people who have a global outlook and talent for languages (among other skills), or how police corruption seems to have faded when taking into account stories from the past involving bribery and illegal incarceration. I suppose none of these factors can make up for all the things that aren’t working and aren’t getting better around here.

Talking about hope is considered a lame and worthless line of conversation for many people. Back in 2008 it was a big group of Americans who decided to believe in change and hope. Now you can’t even say the words. Here in Georgia, though there’s no Obama, don’t bother mentioning hope, you’ll just sound silly.

Life, Death, and the Unglamorous Era of Ad-Men

John Hall remembers the advertizing business in the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s, and there was nothing glamorous about it. His personal policy in the work place was not to pursue wealth and happiness, but to pursue work that brought meaning to life, which in turn has always given him a feeling of being content and the richest man around. As a business man, a hospice nurse, an english teacher for French people, and a business teacher – one thing shines through no matter what he is working on – John Hall is a force to be rekoned with in the best possible way.

John joins me on the phone from Paris in this very insightful and fun conversation about the lessons he’s learned from fantastic life experiences, and his struggle to convey that to future global business leaders.