Shaumiani (2022), by Roser Corella
Whose Kvemo (Lower) Kartli is? Is it more Georgian, or is it Azerbaijani or Armenian? Is it possible to find a common narrative between every group that lives here? I have been searching for it since 2015, when I first came to the region. It has become notable that the measure of nationality is not reflected in the borderland. There is diversity but also a commonality in the experience of living close to the border, looking at the same landscape every day, and belonging to different social networks.
Marneuli municipality, located in the Kvemo (Lower) Kartli region, is a mosaic of cultures, ethnicities, tastes, landscapes, religions and languages. It embodies an unusual history of the borderland, peculiarities of belonging, no simple answers, no obvious attributions.
This southeastern part of Georgia has yet to exist in the broad consciousness of those not only visiting the country but also of those living here. Only geographically is this territory automatically attributed to the Georgian state. With less than fifty kilometers between Marneuli and Tbilisi, it seems close to the capital, but the real gap is much broader, filled with mutual perceptions and prejudices. It is said that the region feeds the entire republic, as it is the main supplier of tomatoes and cucumbers in particular. Here, some residents call this territory Sakartvelo, while others call it Vrastan, Gürcüstan, or Borchalo. Buildings of historic mosques are adjacent to Orthodox churches. Stores with Azerbaijani names also display writing in Georgian and Armenian. At least two languages are spoken in almost every school. Here, a passport is as little a measure of ethnicity as language is one of nationality or citizenship.
The main town of the municipality, Marneuli, is home to around 20 000 people. Here, one makes appointments at the local government office, collects income and pensions from ATMs, receives money by bank transfers from relatives in Russia, Poland, Turkey, and Azerbaijan, sends money, or arranges loans. There is a big bazaar in the city where everyone – Azerbaijanis, Georgians, and Armenians – sell their products. It operates every day, and you can find almost everything here. Fruits, vegetables, many kinds of cheese, meat, flour, and other grains. Candy, clothing, shoes, cigarettes, cosmetics, school supplies, household goods, wedding accessories, and music can also be found here. Writing this text, I still have vivid sounds running through my head, pulsing with the rhythms of Azerbaijani national music mixed with disco, like in the song by Niyameddin Musayev “The world is mine, the world is yours.” It is also here where locals from other municipalities of Kvemo Kartli buy products, especially vegetables – because contrary to the opinion circulated in Georgia about Marneuli residents, not everyone has a piece of land for private use. One of the most common sources of income in spring and summer is seasonal work in greenhouses. One such place, located on the outskirts of the municipality borders, also hires Georgians from Western regions. The market is home to a popular private store called “optovoy”, a discount store set up in the backyard of a two-story house. Several young men sitting behind benches attend to the customers. They rely on calculators as well as an abacus, and then write down the amount of “credit” left to be repaid or what has just been repaid in a notebook. Like almost everywhere, the bazaar is the main center of social life.
When we move sixteen kilometers from Marneuli towards the borders with Armenia and Azerbaijan, we are in Shulaveri – a historical, post-industrial, economically declining village, a former urban-type settlement with approximately one thousand five hundred and fifty inhabitants of many ethnicities. It used to be a local urban center. Due to its proximity to the border with Azerbaijan and Armenia, it has been inhabited for centuries by people of non-Georgian origin. In the Soviet period, factories were established here, to which various peoples of the former republics were drawn for labor. Conditions developed in which multiple minorities, not only Armenian, Azerbaijani, or Georgian, but also Russian, Ukrainian, and Greek coexist.
The town and its surrounding villages were centered around the factories and their infrastructure. All this together created an interesting mosaic of class, nationality, language, and religion. Former manufacturers in Shulaveri, like the wool factory, were semi-fabrication centers. Processed fur and animal skin were imported from abroad (e.g. Australia), then they were cleaned, sorted and exported for the next stages of processing. These were the most prominent manufacturers.
At other surrounding factories, tobacco from nearby Sovkhozes (state-owned farms) was separated. Fragrance oils and aircraft fuel were brewed from oil extracted from local plants. Silk and military clothing made of felt were also produced here. Once these centers attracted the confidence of labor, yet today, little remains. The buildings around the train station have disappeared, and all that is left are a few multi-family townhouses in need of renovation. Occasionally, one will see a little red star on the facade of a building, the former cultural house, or accidentally come across another piece of atrophied infrastructure, such as the former square. Once called Lenin Square, it is now an overgrown piece of concrete with a statue of a leader who no longer exists. The former main entrance to the factory still exhibits the remains of two bas-reliefs depicting Georgian folk and religious motifs.
Whose Kvemo (Lower) Kartli is? Is it more Georgian, or is it Azerbaijani or Armenian? Is it possible to find a common narrative between every group that lives here? I have been searching for it since 2015, when I first came to the region. It has become notable that the measure of nationality is not reflected in the borderland. There is diversity but also a commonality in the experience of living close to the border, looking at the same landscape every day, and belonging to different social networks.
Marneuli municipality, located in the Kvemo (Lower) Kartli region, is a mosaic of cultures, ethnicities, tastes, landscapes, religions and languages. It embodies an unusual history of the borderland, peculiarities of belonging, no simple answers, no obvious attributions.
This southeastern part of Georgia has yet to exist in the broad consciousness of those not only visiting the country but also of those living here. Only geographically is this territory automatically attributed to the Georgian state. With less than fifty kilometers between Marneuli and Tbilisi, it seems close to the capital, but the real gap is much broader, filled with mutual perceptions and prejudices. It is said that the region feeds the entire republic, as it is the main supplier of tomatoes and cucumbers in particular. Here, some residents call this territory Sakartvelo, while others call it Vrastan, Gürcüstan, or Borchalo. Buildings of historic mosques are adjacent to Orthodox churches. Stores with Azerbaijani names also display writing in Georgian and Armenian. At least two languages are spoken in almost every school. Here, a passport is as little a measure of ethnicity as language is one of nationality or citizenship.
The main town of the municipality, Marneuli, is home to around 20 000 people. Here, one makes appointments at the local government office, collects income and pensions from ATMs, receives money by bank transfers from relatives in Russia, Poland, Turkey, and Azerbaijan, sends money, or arranges loans. There is a big bazaar in the city where everyone – Azerbaijanis, Georgians, and Armenians – sell their products. It operates every day, and you can find almost everything here. Fruits, vegetables, many kinds of cheese, meat, flour, and other grains. Candy, clothing, shoes, cigarettes, cosmetics, school supplies, household goods, wedding accessories, and music can also be found here. Writing this text, I still have vivid sounds running through my head, pulsing with the rhythms of Azerbaijani national music mixed with disco, like in the song by Niyameddin Musayev “The world is mine, the world is yours.” It is also here where locals from other municipalities of Kvemo Kartli buy products, especially vegetables – because contrary to the opinion circulated in Georgia about Marneuli residents, not everyone has a piece of land for private use. One of the most common sources of income in spring and summer is seasonal work in greenhouses. One such place, located on the outskirts of the municipality borders, also hires Georgians from Western regions. The market is home to a popular private store called “optovoy”, a discount store set up in the backyard of a two-story house. Several young men sitting behind benches attend to the customers. They rely on calculators as well as an abacus, and then write down the amount of “credit” left to be repaid or what has just been repaid in a notebook. Like almost everywhere, the bazaar is the main center of social life.
When we move sixteen kilometers from Marneuli towards the borders with Armenia and Azerbaijan, we are in Shulaveri – a historical, post-industrial, economically declining village, a former urban-type settlement with approximately one thousand five hundred and fifty inhabitants of many ethnicities. It used to be a local urban center. Due to its proximity to the border with Azerbaijan and Armenia, it has been inhabited for centuries by people of non-Georgian origin. In the Soviet period, factories were established here, to which various peoples of the former republics were drawn for labor. Conditions developed in which multiple minorities, not only Armenian, Azerbaijani, or Georgian, but also Russian, Ukrainian, and Greek coexist.
The town and its surrounding villages were centered around the factories and their infrastructure. All this together created an interesting mosaic of class, nationality, language, and religion. Former manufacturers in Shulaveri, like the wool factory, were semi-fabrication centers. Processed fur and animal skin were imported from abroad (e.g. Australia), then they were cleaned, sorted and exported for the next stages of processing. These were the most prominent manufacturers.
At other surrounding factories, tobacco from nearby Sovkhozes (state-owned farms) was separated. Fragrance oils and aircraft fuel were brewed from oil extracted from local plants. Silk and military clothing made of felt were also produced here. Once these centers attracted the confidence of labor, yet today, little remains. The buildings around the train station have disappeared, and all that is left are a few multi-family townhouses in need of renovation. Occasionally, one will see a little red star on the facade of a building, the former cultural house, or accidentally come across another piece of atrophied infrastructure, such as the former square. Once called Lenin Square, it is now an overgrown piece of concrete with a statue of a leader who no longer exists. The former main entrance to the factory still exhibits the remains of two bas-reliefs depicting Georgian folk and religious motifs.
On the outskirts of Shaumiani, a settlement of internally displaced Georgian refugees from the Samachablo region, also known as South Ossetia, is located. Just a few kilometers from the border with Armenia is one of the two most prominent villages in Marneuli: Sadakhlo. It is inhabited by Azerbaijanis and followers of both branches of Islam – mostly Sunni, but also Shia. According to the general census from 2014, Sadakhlo was then populated by 7000 people.
The village is proud of its musicians, called ashugs, who sing songs in Azerbaijani accompanied by an instrument called saz. Other non-standard sounds pierce through the whirr of the cars – this is the dice of nardy, the most popular game here, also known as backgammon. The largest concentration of players is always found in chai khanas, where the movement of the pawn is interrupted time and again by sips of hot tea. The largest chai khana in Sadakhlo is located in the building of the House of Culture, which inside is decorated with interesting stained-glass windows and paintings made of metal. Drivers can stop here before crossing the border into Armenia. Since 2020, the second border – the one with Azerbaijan – is closed to land traffic, which affects the daily lives of residents trading goods and wanting to see their family members on the other side of the border.
Moreover, the pandemic has shown that mobility is often the privilege of the wealthiest, which has reevaluated previous approaches and has changed local practices. However, when a random person takes a look at the products in the stores, do not see the detriment. It is full of food imported from Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Turkey. Only in nearby bakeries you might have a problem finding cheese and bean pies popular in Tbilisi – khachapuri and lobiani. Instead, a visitor will delve into other flavors, such as sweet or spicy gogal with turmeric filling, rolls with cinnamon and marmalade, or white creamy, obscenely sweet cakes. It is easy to find lula kebab or doner, shaurma in Georgian, popular when going to “dine out” alone or on the menu of families. But whether one eats sweet or salty, a common custom is to drink black, leafy tea – the most popular companies are Azerbaijan’s Azerçay and Mariam. You can drink it with lemon in chai khanas or tea cafes, usually designed for men. Women mostly drink tea at home, brewing it in their kitchens or while visiting each other. They often add to the tea muhe – which means in Azerbaijani “cloves” – or koklikotu – “thyme”. Every visitor to an Azerbaijani home will be able to try it. If there are no specially prepared local dishes, at least candies are always served with the tea. Depending on the wealth of the house, those might be chocolate candies, but most often plain caramels.
A seventy-year-old landlady from the village Dashtapa, close to Shulaveri, has yet another way of preparing sweets. She first dissolves sugar and coffee, adds walnuts, boils a stock of them, and then lets it cool overnight. The next day, a sugar taffy is ready. You only need to break it into smaller cubes with a hammer and serve it to your guests. I have not encountered such unique sugar anywhere outside her home, and it is definitely something my hostess is known for in the area.
Read more:
TRACING COMMON SPACES
by Corten Perez-Houis, Kirill Repin, Sopiko Rostiashvili, Marie-Luise Schega & Hermine Virabian
“YOURS, SPACE”
Poem by Marie-Luise Schega & Film Stills by Hermine Virabian
SUPRA OF STORIES
by Jan Chrzan, Katya Krat & Nutsa Lomsadze
SHULAVERI
by Natavan Alieva
STORIES OF KIOSKS (PAST AND PRESENT OF SHAUMIANI)
by Ketevan Lapachi & Lala Iskandarli
The Sevda of Sadakhlo
by Ana Kvichidze, Catherine Steiner & Klara Böck
THE LIBRARY OF SHAUMIANI
by Juri Wasenmüller
