There is a legend: God distributed the land to the nations when he created the world. German, Malay, Turk, Indian, Mexican, Chinese… Georgians were having a supra (feast) – eating, drinking, and toasting, enjoying their time when distribution was going on. Towards the end of distribution came a guy to Georgians, asking “God has handed everyone their piece of land, did you get yours”? No, they didn’t. They were having supra, damn!
Upset and worried, Georgians ran to God, who had already retreated for some rest, and asked: Oh our dear and beautiful God, they said that you’ve given everyone a land on earth. We were at the supra, enjoying your well blessed food and wine. Are we left landless now? Shall we, the people that loves you the most, be subordinate to others? Will we not have a place?
God looked at Georgians. Yeah, they seemed genuinely upset and sorry for their misbehavior but there was no land left for them. God thought for a moment, then called Zezva and Mzia, the oldest Europeans hailing from Georgia, and said: I see your sorrow and I, the most gracious, give you the land that I spared for myself. Aye, it’s the most beautiful rivalled by none, with mountains, plains, rivers, and sea. Take it, and be merry, what’s godly is now Georgian.
The legacy of this event is still visible in Georgia. The worry and sadness from the day of distribution lingers in Georgian society, so much so that the language reflects it at its best. Ever heard Georgian? Oh, I did and do – am exposed to it, less than Russian nowadays, though, day in and out. It sounds as if there’s a fight – either about to start, or have started long ago. Add to that the attitude and behavior of Georgians, which as well is greatly affected by the foretold event, you’ll come to be able to summarize Georgian people with but three qualities: Constantly on edge, angry, and edgery – the combination of the two. And you know what? Whoever is in Georgia is no exception – be it a tourist or an expat, however few their numbers might be, for the cause is not the nation but the land: The land that God spared for himself.
And there is a most peculiar person that is no exception either: Archangel Gabriel. I didn’t know of it until yesterday when I found a chance to meet him. “Oh, is it you” I asked with my eyes wide open, unable to believe if what I saw was really true. He, with no sign of modesty, yet also not of smugness, “yes it is me” said with his chest up and shoulders wide.
“Good God, what are you doing here?”
“You know of the economic crisis. I’m working as a part-time tour guide.”
“My oh my, my wife won’t believe this!” I cried and ran to him, hugging. He pushed me away but I still put a good face on. “Can I” I asked showing him my camera. His hardly hidden displeasure came to be so visible that even a new-born could see it. “No man, you cannot” he said. I turned the camera on and “please, this is one in a lifetime chance for me, when will I ever meet Archangel Gabriel again” I asked turning the dial from A mode to P mode, for I hadn’t the time to check the last settings. “I said no” he said again, now rising his hand slightly up. And I? I didn’t listen to him and took a photo of course! Below is the photo I took:
“Are his wings bleeding” you might ask but don’t worry, it was the strange robe he had on his wings. And the stick on his right hand? Remember, he’s working as a tour guide? It’s for his group to find him easily.
His face changed greatly when I took the photo. “I said no, damn it” he cried and threw his stick, then started walking towards me slowly. “Why don’t you listen?” he asked with a thunderous voice.
“I, I…” I stuttered unable to speak.
“Answer me or you’ll taste my wrath!” he cried again.
“I… Just…”
You know what? He was serious. Suddenly his hand went behind to his back and he drew a sword! I shot him at that very moment with the photographer’s instinct, when he was holding the sheath and the sword, and below is the moment just before I started running away:
Thinking now, it doesn’t make sense. I mean, it’s the year 2023, man. What the hell is sword? Get a cannon, get a rifle, get a gun. Why are you stuck in year 33? Okay, you have wings and we can’t flee from you, okay but why get tired running after us and slashing with a sword? Just use a gun, the bullet runs for you anyway?
How did I survive this encounter, you may ask. Just as he was to run after me showed up a nice couple, apparently of his tour group, which were to first to return from their two free hours, and started asking him questions. He seems to be really deep economically, for otherwise he’d rather kill me than keep his job.
And the moral of the story? Come to Georgia, it’s the land God had spared for himself. But beware! Even Archangel Gabriel became one of us, get well prepared to feel like one of us.
