Interview with Rusudan Galdava
Title
Interview with Rusudan Galdava
Interviewer
Maia Araviashvli
Interviewee
Rusudan Galdava
Creator
Interview ID
GDP_IN_31
Format
Biographical Note
რუსუდან გალდავა დაიბადა ქუთაისში, 1953 წელს, იქვე დაამთავრა საშუალო სკოლა და უნივერსიტეტიც. გათხოვების შემდეგ გადავიდა სოხუმში საცხოვრებლად და იქვე დასაქმდა ბაღის აღმზრდელ-პედაგოგად. სოხუმის დაცემის შემდეგ საცოხვრებლად თბილისში გადავიდა ოახით. მუშაობდა ბაღში და სკოლებშიც მოგვიანებით. მას მერე რაც მისი მეუღლე ამერიკის შეერთებულ შტატებში გადავიდა საცხოვრებლად, თვითონაც მიიღო გადაწყვეტილება ნიუ იორკში გადასულიყო. მას მერე ქართულის პედაგოგია კულტურის ცენტრ ,,ფესვებში“. ცდილობს ქართული ასწავლოს ქართველი ემიგრანტების მეორე თაობას და შეაყვაროს მშობლიური ენა. მისი საქმიანობა ბევრ პროექტს მოიცავს, მათ შორის საერთაშორისოს. ინტერვიუში აღწერილია მისი პირადი და პროფესიული საქმიანობის დეტალები.
Rusudan Galdava was born in Kutaisi in 1953 and completed her high school and university education there. Following her marriage, she relocated to Sukhumi, where she embarked on her career as a kindergarten teacher. However, when Sukhumi fell, she and her family moved to Tbilisi. She continued her work in education, teaching at kindergartens and later in schools. Subsequently, her husband's relocation to the United States led her to decide on moving to New York. Since then, she has been actively engaged in teaching Georgian at the "Pesvebi“ (Roots) cultural center. Her dedication lies in educating the second generation of Georgian immigrants and instilling in them a deep love for their native language. Her educational efforts extend to numerous projects, both local and international, which are elaborated upon in her interview, covering her personal and professional accomplishments.
Rusudan Galdava was born in Kutaisi in 1953 and completed her high school and university education there. Following her marriage, she relocated to Sukhumi, where she embarked on her career as a kindergarten teacher. However, when Sukhumi fell, she and her family moved to Tbilisi. She continued her work in education, teaching at kindergartens and later in schools. Subsequently, her husband's relocation to the United States led her to decide on moving to New York. Since then, she has been actively engaged in teaching Georgian at the "Pesvebi“ (Roots) cultural center. Her dedication lies in educating the second generation of Georgian immigrants and instilling in them a deep love for their native language. Her educational efforts extend to numerous projects, both local and international, which are elaborated upon in her interview, covering her personal and professional accomplishments.
Intrerview length
1:45:02
Date Created
Date Published
November 1, 2023
Location
Transcript length
18
Language
Subject
Georgian Language teacher teaching at cultural center in NYC.
extracted text
Interview with Rusudan Galdava, Georgian Language Teacher at the “Roots”
Cultural Center
By Maia Araviashvili
March 24, 2023 | New York, United States
Interviewer: Today, our guest is Ms. Rusudan Galdava. Please tell us a bit about yourself — when
and where were you born? Some biographical background:
Respondent: I was born in the city of Kutaisi in 1953, into the family of a military officer. My
mother did not work. I graduated from Public School No. 32 in Kutaisi and then continued my
studies at Akaki Tsereteli University, majoring in History and Philology. After that, I got married
and moved to the city of Sokhumi. I worked in a kindergarten there — it was Port Kindergarten
No. 9 — where I was a teacher. I had two sons. Due to the well-known events [i.e., the war in
Abkhazia], I left Sokhumi and moved to Tbilisi. I started working at Kindergarten No. 66, which
was part of the Aviation Factory — first as a teacher, then as a methodologist. Later, I worked as
the Vice Principal for Academic Affairs at schools No. 83 and No. 152. After that, my life changed
completely.
My sister-in-law moved to the United States, and later she invited my husband to visit her on a
tourist visa. He spent six months here — and then he stayed.
Interviewer: What year was that, Ms. Rusudan? In which year did your sister-in-law leave, and
in which year did your husband follow?
Respondent: I don’t remember the exact year, but I believe my sister-in-law came in 1997, and
my husband came in 2003 on a tourist visa. At that time, we were going through the civil war in
Georgia. He applied for political asylum here, which was granted, and later he brought me and our
younger son through the family reunification program. Our younger son, who was 21 at the time,
actually came before me. Our older son stayed in Georgia.
I arrived in a foreign country, but to be honest, I didn’t feel like a stranger. My husband was already
here, along with my son, my brother, my sister-in-law, my husband’s sister, and her child. A kind
of family environment had already been created — they were waiting for me, expecting me to
arrive.
In Bay Ridge, one of New York’s neighborhoods, a kindergarten was opened — the administrators
were Ukrainian, and they already knew I was coming. I had 18 years of experience working in
kindergartens, so they invited me to work there, and I did well. I worked for a year, but then I had
to leave because I needed health insurance. The kindergarten didn’t offer a package big enough to
cover insurance, so I left. It was around that time that I received an unexpected offer: a Georgian
Cultural Center called “Roots” was being established, and they invited me to become a Georgian
language teacher.
It was truly amazing — something I never expected. When I left Georgia after so many years of
working, I packed up my books, sat down, and cried over leaving my profession behind. And
suddenly, in America, I was being offered a chance to teach — to teach our own children, no less!
I arrived in 2007, and by 2008, I started working at “Roots.” Since then, I’ve been teaching
Georgian language and literature there.
But my work in the U.S. has become incredibly diverse. Honestly, I don’t know if all of this would
have happened had I stayed in Georgia. I had my professional experience, of course, but everything
was turned upside down when I arrived here. I had to adapt, because the children here are born in
the U.S. and make very specific pronunciation mistakes. There were no textbooks suitable for
Sunday schools abroad. The diaspora itself wasn’t well-formed or united at the time.
I worked on everything — and, by the way, my efforts didn’t go unnoticed by the Georgian
government. I was invited back to Georgia several times to receive awards. It’s a very special
feeling — to live outside your homeland but still be remembered by it. That means a great deal to
an emigrant, and I’ve had the good fortune to experience it.
People often talk about how difficult emigration is — feeling like a stranger, facing something
totally new. But I didn’t go through that. As I mentioned earlier, I had family here, I was doing the
work I loved, and that made me happy.
In 2020, it was the idea of Irine Jgerenaya, the principal of Public School No. 17 in Kutaisi,
together with Father Luka Palavandishvili, the head priest of Saint Anthimos the Iberian Church
in Barcelona, and Marina Tsikoradze, a teacher at the Georgian Sunday School named after Saint
Nino, which is affiliated with the same church, to establish an International Association of
Teachers. I was also invited to join.
Since I frequently traveled to Georgia for various meetings and personally knew Sunday school
teachers from nearly every country, we came together to create the International Association of
Teachers. Irine Jgerenaya became the president, and I am honored to serve as the vice president.
Imagine — our first meeting took place in August 2020. It was attended by 64 teachers, as well as
representatives from the Department of Diaspora, including our dear Aliona Chkhotua and Varden
Nikabadze. Very respectable individuals participated, alongside teachers from all over the world.
Since then, the association has grown significantly — many new schools have joined, and new
ones have been established as well.
Just picture it — Sunday school teachers from different countries meeting each other. It was an
incredible joy. The first meeting lasted six or seven hours. We didn’t even notice the time pass.
That day was filled with joy, longing, discovery, and a sense of embracing the homeland — maybe
all of it at once.
Interviewer: And where did this meeting take place? Sorry to interrupt you.
Interviewee: It was on Zoom — the first meeting was held via Zoom, and the next one was led
by Varden Nikabadze, who spoke about the challenges of modern teaching methods.
Later, something wonderful happened (smiles) — we celebrated World Teachers’ Day, October
5th, virtually via Zoom as well. We gathered in our respective consulates and celebrated that way.
Some of the women even cried! (smiles)
And you know, there are teachers in many countries who have gone abroad to treat their own health
issues — and with their own personal funds, they’ve managed to organize schools. Completely
voluntarily. They go out and look for children, gathering them little by little.
In Antwerp, Belgium, we have Manana Khorbaladze. In the beginning, when children came to
church, she would use tongue twisters (ენის გასატეხი) to warm them up and then teach them to
read and write. They didn’t even have a proper room or space to use — but slowly, everything
came together.
By the way, churches played a huge role in this process. They really supported the creation of
Sunday schools.
Interviewer: In what ways did the churches support these efforts? For example, did they provide
space or help with resources? In what form did that support come?
Respondent: Yes, yes — when there were no liturgies or church services, they would allocate a
room within the church for us.
Now, in Canada, a plot of land was purchased, and a church was built on it. A Sunday school was
opened right there as well. The same thing happened in France. What truly surprised me was the
fact that in both Canada and France, Romanian Christians helped with the church construction —
completely voluntarily. Young men would come after work and contribute their labor with great
dedication.
Before we had our own church in France, Romanian believers would allow our Georgian priests
to conduct Easter services in their churches, saying, “Go ahead, hold your Georgian service here.”
That gesture was so unexpected for me — the love and generosity of the Romanian people toward
Georgians. I didn’t know much about that before.
During the New Year season, we carried out a project called “Christmas Traditions of the
Countries We Live In.” We held the meeting again via Zoom (smiles). By that time, schools from
Georgia had also joined us. Kutaisi Public School No. 17, which is a very strong school,
participated. They traveled to Variani, to the house-museum of Iakob Gogebashvili, and joined the
Zoom session from there.
We, from the U.S., also joined — we showed how we decorate the Christmas tree here, and where
the tradition comes from. The project turned out to be so interesting, and so many schools
participated, that we ended up holding a two-day event lasting several hours each day.
Our association's president is also the author of new projects, and it was her idea to create an
artistic-documentary film about Georgian Sunday schools abroad. We invited director Nikoloz
Khomasuridze — the same director who made the film about Ekvtime Takaishvili.
He accepted our invitation and first came to the United States. They filmed at “Roots” (Pesvebi),
then went to New Jersey where we have another Sunday school, and after that, to Philadelphia.
Our Metropolitan Bishop Saba Intskirveli serves there. In total, the film covers 12 Sunday schools
across Europe and the United States. According to the director, the premiere is scheduled for
around May — both in Georgia and in the countries featured in the film.
The film showcases our children in their everyday lives — there’s dancing, Georgian language
lessons, and scenes of children doing activities with their parents. It was a very interesting and
meaningful project.
The crown jewel of our two years of work is the textbook “Sagzali” (საგზალი - meaning travel
supplies/food for the road), which we created based on the Gospel. It is designed to unify the roles
of family, school, and church. The very first word we teach is “Jesus”, and then we proceed
gradually from there.
The book is beautifully illustrated in calligraphy — every single letter is artistically designed. The
author is Marina Tsikoradze, a teacher at the Saint Nino Georgian Sunday School in Barcelona. I
would also like to mention that Ms. Marina held free year-round calligraphy classes for the children
of “Roots” in New York —from Barcelona.
The book was published with the blessing and prayers of Metropolitan Ioane of Kutaisi and
Gaenati, and His Holiness and Beatitude Ilia II, Catholicos-Patriarch of All Georgia.
As you can see (shows the book), the next lesson is about the family, and it includes an icon of the
Holy Family of Mary. Our children receive Holy Communion and know what an icon is — that it
represents young Mary and her parents, Anna and Joachim.
The Patriarchate’s publishing house printed the book for us free of charge. The parents brought
the copies to me, and this is the book I now use to teach.
Interviewer:
So, as part of this association, you collaborated with the Patriarchate — you teachers probably
worked on the content, and the Patriarchate took responsibility for publishing it?
Respondent: Yes, yes — it’s essential to consult with the bishop to ensure that every word is used
correctly, especially since the book includes excerpts from the Gospels. We introduce all four
Evangelists in a very simple way so the children can remember their names.
It’s easy to remember names like Giorgi, Nikoloz, Andria, or Mate. But names like Mark — to be
honest — are rarely encountered these days.
Every year, we have around 100 to 120 children at “Pesvebi” (Roots), and these children
participate with me in the projects of the Teachers’ International Association. The directors of our
cultural center are Ivane Goderdzishvili and Shorena Barbakadze. At every meeting, I always ask
them to attend the sessions so people can get to know them, but they always reply that my presence
there is enough. They are very humble individuals and don’t like to be in the spotlight.
Through the Teachers’ International Association, we became involved in the London International
Scientific Conference. It was a truly fascinating conference, focused on the history of Georgia and
world history in general. We started working on this project in 2020, and so far, nine conferences
have already been held, with the tenth scheduled for the end of May.
Just imagine how important it is for children born abroad to learn about the history of Georgia. Let
me briefly share some of the topics from these conferences:
1. The legacy of Phaistos – the Phaistos Disc
2. Johann Friedrich Blumenbach’s theory of race, based on “The Skull of My Beautiful
Georgian Woman”
3. Early humans and Georgia
4. The coming of Christianity and its historical context
5. Shota Rustaveli and the universal values in The Knight in the Panther’s Skin
6. Georgia as the cradle of cattle breeding (მესაქონლეობა) and agriculture– here we also
discussed Georgian beekeeping.
Let me digress a little: here in Pennsylvania, we have a piece of land and keep bees — mostly
Italian, but we also have Georgian bees (smiles). Italian bees are very hardworking, but our
Georgian bees have longer proboscises and produce more honey. The children became very
interested in this topic. While we were working on it, our Shorena choreographed a “bee dance”
with the kids!
Our children also get to know successful Georgians living and working in the United States.
These projects were funded by the Rustaveli Society, and a documentary film is being produced
— it will be uploaded on YouTube. Then we had a very interesting topic, “Dance in Archaeology.”
Now, on the 26th, we have the next conference: “The History of Pharmacology.” We covered both
Georgian pharmacology and the pharmaceutical traditions of other countries — from karabadini
(traditional Georgian medical books) to modern American pharmaceutical companies. The
following topic will be the history of Georgian art, and the final, tenth topic will focus on the
histories of Kakheti and New York.
This time, I involved the parents and offered them the opportunity to choose which places in New
York they would like to explore. It turned out many were interested in the Metropolitan Opera,
museums, and various neighborhoods. We’ll see which topic gets the most votes — that’s what
we’ll work on. The project concludes in May, and the children who participated in the conference
series will be invited to Georgia and awarded medals and certificates.
Children who participated in all ten conferences will receive medals, while those who joined even
just two will receive certificates. The truth is, we began this project back in 2020 — the children
are growing up and entering college, so their efforts must be appreciated.
The author of this conference series idea is Mrs. Liana Jikia-Gogrichiani, head of the Georgian
Sunday School in London, a school that has twice won the Golden Orsen Award. It's an
exceptionally strong school with equally strong teachers.
I also want to mention something I appreciate about America: I really admire the fact that if a child
wants to study — no matter what the field — they have the opportunity to pursue what truly
interests them: architecture, art, dance, music, and so on.
Right now, there are many successful young Georgians in America. The diaspora has grown,
strengthened, stabilized — several new cultural centers have opened. We support one another.
There is the Dancing Crane Company, run by Lika and Viktor Sirelsons, and our Tsutsa
Kapanadze works there.
There is also Irina’s Dance Academy. We host joint events and collaborate closely.
On April 14, we are organizing an evening dedicated to “Mother Language Day,” and
representatives from our consulate will attend. For now, we only have an acting consul, but he is
a wonderful person, and we will be honored to host him.
Everything I’ve just listed — all of it together brought me so much joy, I felt like I had wings. One
woman even wrote to me, saying, “You seemed so happy, I envied you.”
But unfortunately, my oldest son, who had survived several wars — starting with Iraq — passed
away here. He left, and it was as though he took my life with him. Life lost all meaning. I didn’t
even think about returning to work — I couldn’t imagine it. But the parents and the children kept
coming to my house, saying, “Please, don’t leave us.” That’s how the lessons continued.
Then there were three conferences left. The children had been preparing and studying for the third
year already. We used to meet on Zoom, study together, research materials, work on them, and
present everything at the conferences. I felt so sorry for all the work the children had done — I
couldn’t just let it go — so I agreed to continue working.
In short, I had a happy, fulfilling life here, full of joy and interesting experiences. But now
everything has lost its meaning.
At the moment, I’ve joined a continuous prayer group — these are 24-hour prayer circles, where
Psalms are read constantly. Georgians from many countries are part of it: Georgia, Austria,
Germany, Israel, America, Belgium — in short, people from many different places are involved.
Interviewer:
You initially came to New York, right? And most likely the reason was that your family members
were already here?
Respondent:
Yes, yes, I never even considered moving to another state. My sister-in-law moved to Miami and
invited us to join her, but I’ve embraced this state so deeply that I couldn’t live anywhere else.
Two years ago, my husband and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary, and the Democratic
Party hosted a lovely reception for us and awarded us with a commemorative certificate. We’re
trying our best to adapt to this country. This state expects you to be law-abiding and decent, and
in return, it doesn’t restrict you — you can work, study, buy a house, land — do everything within
the boundaries of the law. That’s something to be appreciated. It should be like that in every
country — the rule of law should prevail everywhere.
Interviewer:
Aside from having close relatives here, what was the main reason you decided to come to America?
What was the primary factor in that decision?
Respondent:
As I mentioned earlier, it was the 1990s — life in Georgia was very difficult. There were constant
power outages, cold, and unemployment. Then, my husband came here and didn’t plan to return.
If I hadn’t come, I would’ve lost my family — so I came, and I kept the family together. If you
ask whether I wanted to leave my homeland or dreamed of moving to America — not at all. I
spoke French well and was asked in Kutaisi to transfer from the Georgian language department to
the foreign languages department. If I had gone anywhere, I had hoped to see France — that was
all. I never even dreamed of America.
Still, with age, I’ve started to feel nostalgia — a deep sense of longing. Maybe it’s what they call
the “call of the land,” I don’t know. We have a house in Tbilisi.
Interviewer:
Have you thought about returning — either now or sometime in the future? Do you have plans to
go back to your homeland?
Respondent:
Yes… yes, as soon as we were about to retire, we wanted to return. Now, though, we’ve buried
our child here. If we do leave, we will definitely arrange for the reburial, but he has three children
— all of them are here. I don’t know if they’ll ever go back or not. All of this is so emotionally
overwhelming, so new, so hard to comprehend. Everything used to be well-organized, stable. But
now… Lately, I’ve been obsessed with Akaki Tsereteli’s words: “But for how long will this world
bring
joy
to
anyone?”
All my life, I never thought about these words, but for the past month — or maybe three weeks —
they’ve been echoing in my head. A mother’s heart senses everything, and I felt something terrible
was coming. It’s like I knew something was about to happen. (Silence)
Interviewer:
You’ve been through a very heavy, painful experience.
Respondent:
Yes.
Interviewer:
Looking back and comparing life in Georgia and the U.S., how different are they? What were your
expectations before you came, and did reality match them? You said earlier that you didn’t really
face many challenges here and didn’t even feel like a foreigner. But if you think back to that initial
period, when you first arrived — those early challenges and experiences — what do you
remember?
Respondent:
Right now, we live in Varketili. In our neighborhood, five veterans have moved in with their
caregivers. They really enjoy our traditions. In the evenings, they gather in the courtyard, everyone
brings a dish, something to drink, they chat, play backgammon, and enjoy themselves. Our foreign
friends really love this part of our culture.
As a young country, America strives to establish good traditions. Maybe that’s why they bring in
immigrants from different countries — to observe their national characteristics. Today, it’s easier
to survive in America. You have everything you need, but somehow, it doesn’t feel like it’s truly
yours. It lacks the sweetness — the feeling of home. That deep, familiar sweetness. And over the
years, you may start to feel like a guest rather than a resident.
Still, we’ve created our own little Georgia here, in Brooklyn. My husband is what you might call
the “super” of our building. He’s brought in nine Georgian families to live here, and there’s a lot
of visiting, helping each other, sharing whatever someone might need.
We brought grapevine seedlings from Georgia and planted them in our backyard. We’ve created a
little garden — our own fruit trees are blooming there. We planted Georgian cucumbers and
tomatoes in large buckets. Some neighbors prune the vines, others water the plants — and that’s
how we live. My cousin just sent me cucumber seeds — we first planted them in cups, they’ve
sprouted now, and we’ll soon transfer them to the yard. So whatever we miss from our homeland,
we try to recreate it here.
I’m sure everyone brings something personal with them. That’s what makes America special —
it’s so diverse, multiethnic. It gives everyone the opportunity to preserve and develop their own
culture, cuisine, and traditions. It values identity and individuality. The most important thing here
is that people are fed and not hungry.
Still, I want to say that the Georgian diaspora has grown significantly here. If in the past you’d
rarely hear someone speaking Georgian, now it’s everywhere — on every street corner. You no
longer feel like you’re in a foreign country.
America is a gracious host. I haven’t seen this kind of welcome in European countries. They say
Scandinavian countries offer good conditions for immigrants. Recently, things have improved for
our people in Italy, and that’s largely thanks to our young footballer — 23-year-old Khvicha
Kvaratskhelia. This one young man managed to build a bridge of friendship between our two
nations.
But I believe that, despite being a young country, America is a truly strong democracy. Everything
here is governed by law. You don’t need to rely on relatives or connections to prove you’re right
(laughs). Everything here is done according to the law.
Interviewer:
How do you maintain connections with Georgia? You mentioned that you go to Georgia
occasionally. How often do you visit, and aside from that, whom do you communicate with there
and how frequently? Also, how do you maintain your Georgian identity here, beyond the work
you do, which is directly related to this issue?
Respondent:
Well, you know, we have relatives there — cousins. I also have my students, around 200 children,
many of whom are now married and have their own children. I keep in touch with them through
Facebook, and we maintain regular contact with Georgia. As for the environment of "roots," you
know when you enter and feel like you’ve stepped into a small piece of Georgia. When a child
from Georgia comes here, they stop speaking English because at school, they’re taught in English.
I tell my students, "Yes, you speak English at school, but don’t forget your native language. Speak
Georgian at home." I also ask their parents to speak Georgian at home. I have a student who is 12
years old and has never been to Georgia. She was asking me, "Why is the mother tongue so
important?" I tell her that it’s because your parents are from there. Our main homeland is there,
where your grandparents were born. I asked her, "Do you have grandparents?" and she said, "I
don’t know." Thanks to God, it’s a rare situation for a child to not know their grandparents, but
many are trying to preserve it.
Many of our graduates have gotten married, have children, bought houses, and they invite each
other over. The community is gradually growing, and it’s becoming like one whole organism. For
example, at my son’s memorial, people came from New Jersey and Philadelphia. It was a typical
thing for them, but a French-origin family was there, and the man was watching and said, "I’ve
never seen such solidarity in New York. Who are you people?" Well, of course, many people know
me, my students have moved to New Jersey, and there’s recognition. But the solidarity itself was
amazing, and many were surprised. At the cemetery, there was no parking space because there
were so many cars, and local people were astonished. You know, we are a small nation, and to see
that kind of solidarity — they couldn’t believe it. Someone told me, "I’ve never seen this level of
solidarity in New York." And this kind of thing, it probably stays with us. If we don’t instill this
in our children, we have it, but our children and grandchildren might not. That’s why we need to
try our best.
Now, in July, our group will have a big solo concert at the Philharmonic. In 2015, when the flood
happened, they went to Georgia to do a charity concert, "Roots," and held two charity concerts in
Tbilisi and Batumi to support the victims. Many people came to Georgia for the first time then.
The following year, many of them went again. Now, in January, they start buying tickets — as
soon as exams are over, they plan to go, and it’s happening in large numbers. Sometimes the
parents can’t go, maybe because they’re working, but they send their children. Now they have a
group and are planning to take children aged 8 and up — four or five kids at a time. "I’m taking
my two," they say (laughs). Of course, this is all arranged officially, with permission slips and
everything, but in any case, that’s what’s happening now.
Interviewer:
So, they are trying to help each other, right? In what other ways do they support one another? You
mentioned that your husband basically settled the entire building with Georgians. What other
forms of support do they offer? Is there a systemic approach, or is it more personal connections?
How is this process developing and unfolding?
Respondent:
No, no, there are groups now, you know… we have a group of emigrants in America… Mzia
Tsulukidze... earlier, money was often collected, and I asked for the help to one of my students,
and Mzia Tsulukidze helped raise the money. We sent it, and she went to Turkey, did tests, they
prescribed treatment, chemotherapy. They told her she had one or two months to live, but she’s
still alive after four years. I tell them, "This child knows she might die, but we try to do what we
can." But gathering thousands and sending them suddenly, you understand what I mean. Then,
Giorgi Nikoleishvili also has a group, and we helped a girl live for six more years. She had
leukemia, and with Giorgi’s help, we kept her alive for six years. Niko Chkheidze also has a
community. We had COVID in our family—my husband, my daughter-in-law, the children, and
I. Five of us were together, and we had COVID at the same time. At that time, my neighbor Eka,
who is Niko’s wife, brought us hot food through the window. Our consul, Mrs. Diana, helped us.
There’s individual help, and of course, group help. When the crisis center was set up, it was an
extremely valuable and correct decision. Many people survived because of it. When COVID
started and the crisis center was created, we initially sent money from here to Italy, and there were
volunteers who bought medicine, rented apartments, because some employers were dismissing
Georgian emigrants from their jobs and leaving them out on the street, they were scared and needed
food, medicine, housing, and jobs. Then, it started in France, then Germany, and there was a
miracle in America. We helped each other. Milena, a girl, was going to pharmacies with her own
money, buying food and medicine, and delivering it to people with COVID. A lot of people
appeared, and somehow, this hardship brought us closer together. Now, there are Georgian doctors
at the Gonenrend Hospital. For example, Giga Adeishvili, a gynecologist, is the reason I’m alive
today and talking to you. There’s Ia, a unique girl, and Aleko Thoreli, a cardiologist. They are like
the “masters” of the Georgians there, and if anyone has a baby in Brooklyn, it’s usually Giga
Adeishvili who helps. I don’t know, I’m not a conflict person myself. I’m a teacher, I’ve worked
with children my whole life, and I can’t be in conflict. I probably don’t have those kinds of
relationships with people, I don’t know. But everyone I’ve met, with whom I’m friends or close
to, they are all helpful to one another. If you need something, it’s not like you’re left without help.
I don’t know if this happens in Europe, but I think it’s a little less there. However, emigration is
growing in Europe too, and I keep thinking about how many of us there are. We’ve been in so
many places now—there’s even a Georgian school in Indonesia with nine children. My teacher,
Diana, is there now, she used to teach at my school. Amazing things are happening.
Interviewer:
From this perspective, if you could make the decision again, would you have moved to America
to live?
Respondent:
Ah... now?... I don’t know, I don’t think so. If I were in Georgia now, I would still be working at
school, quite successfully, I had a private practice, I was preparing students for exams. By the way,
I have prepared many students, including my colleagues’ children, and I’ve never taken money
from them (smiles). One girl came to me once—we were at the city hall in New York, and she
said, "Do you remember me? You’re Rusudan, right, my teacher?" I said, "You look familiar..."
At that moment, our consul was there, and there were very serious people invited, including
doctors. And she asked if she could speak to the audience (she addressed the audience and said to
Mrs. Rusudan). She remembered that in the 90s, I had taught her, she had come from another
school, and then she stopped coming, and I called her to ask why she wasn’t coming. She said,
"We invested in business, lost everything in the 90s, lost our apartment, car, dacha, and now we
live in a rented place, we can’t afford to travel or prepare." But this girl was incredibly talented,
and I told her, "What are you talking about? The entrance exams are coming soon!" And, of course,
I prepared her, and she got into university for free. She was such a gifted girl, and now she lives
in New Jersey with her family. She came to America, and she said, "You completely changed my
perception of people, and you changed my life." What more happiness can there be than that? You
might have wealth today, but it can be gone tomorrow, and relationships are the most important
thing. I also used to teach at church, at the Church of the Virgin Mary here. I taught there for three
years. Of course, the parents told me they would pay me, but I told them, "I come to teach Georgian
to children born here, I don’t take money for that." It’s just not in me. When my son passed away,
one of my students, not a child but already an adult, came to the funeral and gave me some
Sefiskveri (სეფისკვერი - bread used for the Divine Liturgy) and told me, "Eat this so you don’t
get hungry, so you don’t feel bad." I felt so touched—at a funeral, he came up to me, barely able
to walk, and gave me that bread. I felt warmth in my heart. Those words stuck with me, and I
thought about them all day. That child’s kindness made me feel better despite everything I was
going through. The next Saturday, on the Day of the Dead, I took a cross to the church, and the
deacon blessed it and gave it back to me saying, "Take this, carry it." I thought, "Here, it’s more
valued in emigration, maybe in Georgia, it wouldn’t have the same meaning, but here, it holds
more value." You realize that people should be appreciated, respected, and honored in life—not
just after. That’s what matters. I told my children, "You have to appreciate what you have, while
you have it." There’s nothing more important than that. I don’t get involved in political arguments;
it means nothing to me. Appreciate what you have, thank God that you’re happy, and that’s enough.
Interviewer:
Thank you so much, Ms. Rusudan, for such a sincere and interesting interview...
Cultural Center
By Maia Araviashvili
March 24, 2023 | New York, United States
Interviewer: Today, our guest is Ms. Rusudan Galdava. Please tell us a bit about yourself — when
and where were you born? Some biographical background:
Respondent: I was born in the city of Kutaisi in 1953, into the family of a military officer. My
mother did not work. I graduated from Public School No. 32 in Kutaisi and then continued my
studies at Akaki Tsereteli University, majoring in History and Philology. After that, I got married
and moved to the city of Sokhumi. I worked in a kindergarten there — it was Port Kindergarten
No. 9 — where I was a teacher. I had two sons. Due to the well-known events [i.e., the war in
Abkhazia], I left Sokhumi and moved to Tbilisi. I started working at Kindergarten No. 66, which
was part of the Aviation Factory — first as a teacher, then as a methodologist. Later, I worked as
the Vice Principal for Academic Affairs at schools No. 83 and No. 152. After that, my life changed
completely.
My sister-in-law moved to the United States, and later she invited my husband to visit her on a
tourist visa. He spent six months here — and then he stayed.
Interviewer: What year was that, Ms. Rusudan? In which year did your sister-in-law leave, and
in which year did your husband follow?
Respondent: I don’t remember the exact year, but I believe my sister-in-law came in 1997, and
my husband came in 2003 on a tourist visa. At that time, we were going through the civil war in
Georgia. He applied for political asylum here, which was granted, and later he brought me and our
younger son through the family reunification program. Our younger son, who was 21 at the time,
actually came before me. Our older son stayed in Georgia.
I arrived in a foreign country, but to be honest, I didn’t feel like a stranger. My husband was already
here, along with my son, my brother, my sister-in-law, my husband’s sister, and her child. A kind
of family environment had already been created — they were waiting for me, expecting me to
arrive.
In Bay Ridge, one of New York’s neighborhoods, a kindergarten was opened — the administrators
were Ukrainian, and they already knew I was coming. I had 18 years of experience working in
kindergartens, so they invited me to work there, and I did well. I worked for a year, but then I had
to leave because I needed health insurance. The kindergarten didn’t offer a package big enough to
cover insurance, so I left. It was around that time that I received an unexpected offer: a Georgian
Cultural Center called “Roots” was being established, and they invited me to become a Georgian
language teacher.
It was truly amazing — something I never expected. When I left Georgia after so many years of
working, I packed up my books, sat down, and cried over leaving my profession behind. And
suddenly, in America, I was being offered a chance to teach — to teach our own children, no less!
I arrived in 2007, and by 2008, I started working at “Roots.” Since then, I’ve been teaching
Georgian language and literature there.
But my work in the U.S. has become incredibly diverse. Honestly, I don’t know if all of this would
have happened had I stayed in Georgia. I had my professional experience, of course, but everything
was turned upside down when I arrived here. I had to adapt, because the children here are born in
the U.S. and make very specific pronunciation mistakes. There were no textbooks suitable for
Sunday schools abroad. The diaspora itself wasn’t well-formed or united at the time.
I worked on everything — and, by the way, my efforts didn’t go unnoticed by the Georgian
government. I was invited back to Georgia several times to receive awards. It’s a very special
feeling — to live outside your homeland but still be remembered by it. That means a great deal to
an emigrant, and I’ve had the good fortune to experience it.
People often talk about how difficult emigration is — feeling like a stranger, facing something
totally new. But I didn’t go through that. As I mentioned earlier, I had family here, I was doing the
work I loved, and that made me happy.
In 2020, it was the idea of Irine Jgerenaya, the principal of Public School No. 17 in Kutaisi,
together with Father Luka Palavandishvili, the head priest of Saint Anthimos the Iberian Church
in Barcelona, and Marina Tsikoradze, a teacher at the Georgian Sunday School named after Saint
Nino, which is affiliated with the same church, to establish an International Association of
Teachers. I was also invited to join.
Since I frequently traveled to Georgia for various meetings and personally knew Sunday school
teachers from nearly every country, we came together to create the International Association of
Teachers. Irine Jgerenaya became the president, and I am honored to serve as the vice president.
Imagine — our first meeting took place in August 2020. It was attended by 64 teachers, as well as
representatives from the Department of Diaspora, including our dear Aliona Chkhotua and Varden
Nikabadze. Very respectable individuals participated, alongside teachers from all over the world.
Since then, the association has grown significantly — many new schools have joined, and new
ones have been established as well.
Just picture it — Sunday school teachers from different countries meeting each other. It was an
incredible joy. The first meeting lasted six or seven hours. We didn’t even notice the time pass.
That day was filled with joy, longing, discovery, and a sense of embracing the homeland — maybe
all of it at once.
Interviewer: And where did this meeting take place? Sorry to interrupt you.
Interviewee: It was on Zoom — the first meeting was held via Zoom, and the next one was led
by Varden Nikabadze, who spoke about the challenges of modern teaching methods.
Later, something wonderful happened (smiles) — we celebrated World Teachers’ Day, October
5th, virtually via Zoom as well. We gathered in our respective consulates and celebrated that way.
Some of the women even cried! (smiles)
And you know, there are teachers in many countries who have gone abroad to treat their own health
issues — and with their own personal funds, they’ve managed to organize schools. Completely
voluntarily. They go out and look for children, gathering them little by little.
In Antwerp, Belgium, we have Manana Khorbaladze. In the beginning, when children came to
church, she would use tongue twisters (ენის გასატეხი) to warm them up and then teach them to
read and write. They didn’t even have a proper room or space to use — but slowly, everything
came together.
By the way, churches played a huge role in this process. They really supported the creation of
Sunday schools.
Interviewer: In what ways did the churches support these efforts? For example, did they provide
space or help with resources? In what form did that support come?
Respondent: Yes, yes — when there were no liturgies or church services, they would allocate a
room within the church for us.
Now, in Canada, a plot of land was purchased, and a church was built on it. A Sunday school was
opened right there as well. The same thing happened in France. What truly surprised me was the
fact that in both Canada and France, Romanian Christians helped with the church construction —
completely voluntarily. Young men would come after work and contribute their labor with great
dedication.
Before we had our own church in France, Romanian believers would allow our Georgian priests
to conduct Easter services in their churches, saying, “Go ahead, hold your Georgian service here.”
That gesture was so unexpected for me — the love and generosity of the Romanian people toward
Georgians. I didn’t know much about that before.
During the New Year season, we carried out a project called “Christmas Traditions of the
Countries We Live In.” We held the meeting again via Zoom (smiles). By that time, schools from
Georgia had also joined us. Kutaisi Public School No. 17, which is a very strong school,
participated. They traveled to Variani, to the house-museum of Iakob Gogebashvili, and joined the
Zoom session from there.
We, from the U.S., also joined — we showed how we decorate the Christmas tree here, and where
the tradition comes from. The project turned out to be so interesting, and so many schools
participated, that we ended up holding a two-day event lasting several hours each day.
Our association's president is also the author of new projects, and it was her idea to create an
artistic-documentary film about Georgian Sunday schools abroad. We invited director Nikoloz
Khomasuridze — the same director who made the film about Ekvtime Takaishvili.
He accepted our invitation and first came to the United States. They filmed at “Roots” (Pesvebi),
then went to New Jersey where we have another Sunday school, and after that, to Philadelphia.
Our Metropolitan Bishop Saba Intskirveli serves there. In total, the film covers 12 Sunday schools
across Europe and the United States. According to the director, the premiere is scheduled for
around May — both in Georgia and in the countries featured in the film.
The film showcases our children in their everyday lives — there’s dancing, Georgian language
lessons, and scenes of children doing activities with their parents. It was a very interesting and
meaningful project.
The crown jewel of our two years of work is the textbook “Sagzali” (საგზალი - meaning travel
supplies/food for the road), which we created based on the Gospel. It is designed to unify the roles
of family, school, and church. The very first word we teach is “Jesus”, and then we proceed
gradually from there.
The book is beautifully illustrated in calligraphy — every single letter is artistically designed. The
author is Marina Tsikoradze, a teacher at the Saint Nino Georgian Sunday School in Barcelona. I
would also like to mention that Ms. Marina held free year-round calligraphy classes for the children
of “Roots” in New York —from Barcelona.
The book was published with the blessing and prayers of Metropolitan Ioane of Kutaisi and
Gaenati, and His Holiness and Beatitude Ilia II, Catholicos-Patriarch of All Georgia.
As you can see (shows the book), the next lesson is about the family, and it includes an icon of the
Holy Family of Mary. Our children receive Holy Communion and know what an icon is — that it
represents young Mary and her parents, Anna and Joachim.
The Patriarchate’s publishing house printed the book for us free of charge. The parents brought
the copies to me, and this is the book I now use to teach.
Interviewer:
So, as part of this association, you collaborated with the Patriarchate — you teachers probably
worked on the content, and the Patriarchate took responsibility for publishing it?
Respondent: Yes, yes — it’s essential to consult with the bishop to ensure that every word is used
correctly, especially since the book includes excerpts from the Gospels. We introduce all four
Evangelists in a very simple way so the children can remember their names.
It’s easy to remember names like Giorgi, Nikoloz, Andria, or Mate. But names like Mark — to be
honest — are rarely encountered these days.
Every year, we have around 100 to 120 children at “Pesvebi” (Roots), and these children
participate with me in the projects of the Teachers’ International Association. The directors of our
cultural center are Ivane Goderdzishvili and Shorena Barbakadze. At every meeting, I always ask
them to attend the sessions so people can get to know them, but they always reply that my presence
there is enough. They are very humble individuals and don’t like to be in the spotlight.
Through the Teachers’ International Association, we became involved in the London International
Scientific Conference. It was a truly fascinating conference, focused on the history of Georgia and
world history in general. We started working on this project in 2020, and so far, nine conferences
have already been held, with the tenth scheduled for the end of May.
Just imagine how important it is for children born abroad to learn about the history of Georgia. Let
me briefly share some of the topics from these conferences:
1. The legacy of Phaistos – the Phaistos Disc
2. Johann Friedrich Blumenbach’s theory of race, based on “The Skull of My Beautiful
Georgian Woman”
3. Early humans and Georgia
4. The coming of Christianity and its historical context
5. Shota Rustaveli and the universal values in The Knight in the Panther’s Skin
6. Georgia as the cradle of cattle breeding (მესაქონლეობა) and agriculture– here we also
discussed Georgian beekeeping.
Let me digress a little: here in Pennsylvania, we have a piece of land and keep bees — mostly
Italian, but we also have Georgian bees (smiles). Italian bees are very hardworking, but our
Georgian bees have longer proboscises and produce more honey. The children became very
interested in this topic. While we were working on it, our Shorena choreographed a “bee dance”
with the kids!
Our children also get to know successful Georgians living and working in the United States.
These projects were funded by the Rustaveli Society, and a documentary film is being produced
— it will be uploaded on YouTube. Then we had a very interesting topic, “Dance in Archaeology.”
Now, on the 26th, we have the next conference: “The History of Pharmacology.” We covered both
Georgian pharmacology and the pharmaceutical traditions of other countries — from karabadini
(traditional Georgian medical books) to modern American pharmaceutical companies. The
following topic will be the history of Georgian art, and the final, tenth topic will focus on the
histories of Kakheti and New York.
This time, I involved the parents and offered them the opportunity to choose which places in New
York they would like to explore. It turned out many were interested in the Metropolitan Opera,
museums, and various neighborhoods. We’ll see which topic gets the most votes — that’s what
we’ll work on. The project concludes in May, and the children who participated in the conference
series will be invited to Georgia and awarded medals and certificates.
Children who participated in all ten conferences will receive medals, while those who joined even
just two will receive certificates. The truth is, we began this project back in 2020 — the children
are growing up and entering college, so their efforts must be appreciated.
The author of this conference series idea is Mrs. Liana Jikia-Gogrichiani, head of the Georgian
Sunday School in London, a school that has twice won the Golden Orsen Award. It's an
exceptionally strong school with equally strong teachers.
I also want to mention something I appreciate about America: I really admire the fact that if a child
wants to study — no matter what the field — they have the opportunity to pursue what truly
interests them: architecture, art, dance, music, and so on.
Right now, there are many successful young Georgians in America. The diaspora has grown,
strengthened, stabilized — several new cultural centers have opened. We support one another.
There is the Dancing Crane Company, run by Lika and Viktor Sirelsons, and our Tsutsa
Kapanadze works there.
There is also Irina’s Dance Academy. We host joint events and collaborate closely.
On April 14, we are organizing an evening dedicated to “Mother Language Day,” and
representatives from our consulate will attend. For now, we only have an acting consul, but he is
a wonderful person, and we will be honored to host him.
Everything I’ve just listed — all of it together brought me so much joy, I felt like I had wings. One
woman even wrote to me, saying, “You seemed so happy, I envied you.”
But unfortunately, my oldest son, who had survived several wars — starting with Iraq — passed
away here. He left, and it was as though he took my life with him. Life lost all meaning. I didn’t
even think about returning to work — I couldn’t imagine it. But the parents and the children kept
coming to my house, saying, “Please, don’t leave us.” That’s how the lessons continued.
Then there were three conferences left. The children had been preparing and studying for the third
year already. We used to meet on Zoom, study together, research materials, work on them, and
present everything at the conferences. I felt so sorry for all the work the children had done — I
couldn’t just let it go — so I agreed to continue working.
In short, I had a happy, fulfilling life here, full of joy and interesting experiences. But now
everything has lost its meaning.
At the moment, I’ve joined a continuous prayer group — these are 24-hour prayer circles, where
Psalms are read constantly. Georgians from many countries are part of it: Georgia, Austria,
Germany, Israel, America, Belgium — in short, people from many different places are involved.
Interviewer:
You initially came to New York, right? And most likely the reason was that your family members
were already here?
Respondent:
Yes, yes, I never even considered moving to another state. My sister-in-law moved to Miami and
invited us to join her, but I’ve embraced this state so deeply that I couldn’t live anywhere else.
Two years ago, my husband and I celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary, and the Democratic
Party hosted a lovely reception for us and awarded us with a commemorative certificate. We’re
trying our best to adapt to this country. This state expects you to be law-abiding and decent, and
in return, it doesn’t restrict you — you can work, study, buy a house, land — do everything within
the boundaries of the law. That’s something to be appreciated. It should be like that in every
country — the rule of law should prevail everywhere.
Interviewer:
Aside from having close relatives here, what was the main reason you decided to come to America?
What was the primary factor in that decision?
Respondent:
As I mentioned earlier, it was the 1990s — life in Georgia was very difficult. There were constant
power outages, cold, and unemployment. Then, my husband came here and didn’t plan to return.
If I hadn’t come, I would’ve lost my family — so I came, and I kept the family together. If you
ask whether I wanted to leave my homeland or dreamed of moving to America — not at all. I
spoke French well and was asked in Kutaisi to transfer from the Georgian language department to
the foreign languages department. If I had gone anywhere, I had hoped to see France — that was
all. I never even dreamed of America.
Still, with age, I’ve started to feel nostalgia — a deep sense of longing. Maybe it’s what they call
the “call of the land,” I don’t know. We have a house in Tbilisi.
Interviewer:
Have you thought about returning — either now or sometime in the future? Do you have plans to
go back to your homeland?
Respondent:
Yes… yes, as soon as we were about to retire, we wanted to return. Now, though, we’ve buried
our child here. If we do leave, we will definitely arrange for the reburial, but he has three children
— all of them are here. I don’t know if they’ll ever go back or not. All of this is so emotionally
overwhelming, so new, so hard to comprehend. Everything used to be well-organized, stable. But
now… Lately, I’ve been obsessed with Akaki Tsereteli’s words: “But for how long will this world
bring
joy
to
anyone?”
All my life, I never thought about these words, but for the past month — or maybe three weeks —
they’ve been echoing in my head. A mother’s heart senses everything, and I felt something terrible
was coming. It’s like I knew something was about to happen. (Silence)
Interviewer:
You’ve been through a very heavy, painful experience.
Respondent:
Yes.
Interviewer:
Looking back and comparing life in Georgia and the U.S., how different are they? What were your
expectations before you came, and did reality match them? You said earlier that you didn’t really
face many challenges here and didn’t even feel like a foreigner. But if you think back to that initial
period, when you first arrived — those early challenges and experiences — what do you
remember?
Respondent:
Right now, we live in Varketili. In our neighborhood, five veterans have moved in with their
caregivers. They really enjoy our traditions. In the evenings, they gather in the courtyard, everyone
brings a dish, something to drink, they chat, play backgammon, and enjoy themselves. Our foreign
friends really love this part of our culture.
As a young country, America strives to establish good traditions. Maybe that’s why they bring in
immigrants from different countries — to observe their national characteristics. Today, it’s easier
to survive in America. You have everything you need, but somehow, it doesn’t feel like it’s truly
yours. It lacks the sweetness — the feeling of home. That deep, familiar sweetness. And over the
years, you may start to feel like a guest rather than a resident.
Still, we’ve created our own little Georgia here, in Brooklyn. My husband is what you might call
the “super” of our building. He’s brought in nine Georgian families to live here, and there’s a lot
of visiting, helping each other, sharing whatever someone might need.
We brought grapevine seedlings from Georgia and planted them in our backyard. We’ve created a
little garden — our own fruit trees are blooming there. We planted Georgian cucumbers and
tomatoes in large buckets. Some neighbors prune the vines, others water the plants — and that’s
how we live. My cousin just sent me cucumber seeds — we first planted them in cups, they’ve
sprouted now, and we’ll soon transfer them to the yard. So whatever we miss from our homeland,
we try to recreate it here.
I’m sure everyone brings something personal with them. That’s what makes America special —
it’s so diverse, multiethnic. It gives everyone the opportunity to preserve and develop their own
culture, cuisine, and traditions. It values identity and individuality. The most important thing here
is that people are fed and not hungry.
Still, I want to say that the Georgian diaspora has grown significantly here. If in the past you’d
rarely hear someone speaking Georgian, now it’s everywhere — on every street corner. You no
longer feel like you’re in a foreign country.
America is a gracious host. I haven’t seen this kind of welcome in European countries. They say
Scandinavian countries offer good conditions for immigrants. Recently, things have improved for
our people in Italy, and that’s largely thanks to our young footballer — 23-year-old Khvicha
Kvaratskhelia. This one young man managed to build a bridge of friendship between our two
nations.
But I believe that, despite being a young country, America is a truly strong democracy. Everything
here is governed by law. You don’t need to rely on relatives or connections to prove you’re right
(laughs). Everything here is done according to the law.
Interviewer:
How do you maintain connections with Georgia? You mentioned that you go to Georgia
occasionally. How often do you visit, and aside from that, whom do you communicate with there
and how frequently? Also, how do you maintain your Georgian identity here, beyond the work
you do, which is directly related to this issue?
Respondent:
Well, you know, we have relatives there — cousins. I also have my students, around 200 children,
many of whom are now married and have their own children. I keep in touch with them through
Facebook, and we maintain regular contact with Georgia. As for the environment of "roots," you
know when you enter and feel like you’ve stepped into a small piece of Georgia. When a child
from Georgia comes here, they stop speaking English because at school, they’re taught in English.
I tell my students, "Yes, you speak English at school, but don’t forget your native language. Speak
Georgian at home." I also ask their parents to speak Georgian at home. I have a student who is 12
years old and has never been to Georgia. She was asking me, "Why is the mother tongue so
important?" I tell her that it’s because your parents are from there. Our main homeland is there,
where your grandparents were born. I asked her, "Do you have grandparents?" and she said, "I
don’t know." Thanks to God, it’s a rare situation for a child to not know their grandparents, but
many are trying to preserve it.
Many of our graduates have gotten married, have children, bought houses, and they invite each
other over. The community is gradually growing, and it’s becoming like one whole organism. For
example, at my son’s memorial, people came from New Jersey and Philadelphia. It was a typical
thing for them, but a French-origin family was there, and the man was watching and said, "I’ve
never seen such solidarity in New York. Who are you people?" Well, of course, many people know
me, my students have moved to New Jersey, and there’s recognition. But the solidarity itself was
amazing, and many were surprised. At the cemetery, there was no parking space because there
were so many cars, and local people were astonished. You know, we are a small nation, and to see
that kind of solidarity — they couldn’t believe it. Someone told me, "I’ve never seen this level of
solidarity in New York." And this kind of thing, it probably stays with us. If we don’t instill this
in our children, we have it, but our children and grandchildren might not. That’s why we need to
try our best.
Now, in July, our group will have a big solo concert at the Philharmonic. In 2015, when the flood
happened, they went to Georgia to do a charity concert, "Roots," and held two charity concerts in
Tbilisi and Batumi to support the victims. Many people came to Georgia for the first time then.
The following year, many of them went again. Now, in January, they start buying tickets — as
soon as exams are over, they plan to go, and it’s happening in large numbers. Sometimes the
parents can’t go, maybe because they’re working, but they send their children. Now they have a
group and are planning to take children aged 8 and up — four or five kids at a time. "I’m taking
my two," they say (laughs). Of course, this is all arranged officially, with permission slips and
everything, but in any case, that’s what’s happening now.
Interviewer:
So, they are trying to help each other, right? In what other ways do they support one another? You
mentioned that your husband basically settled the entire building with Georgians. What other
forms of support do they offer? Is there a systemic approach, or is it more personal connections?
How is this process developing and unfolding?
Respondent:
No, no, there are groups now, you know… we have a group of emigrants in America… Mzia
Tsulukidze... earlier, money was often collected, and I asked for the help to one of my students,
and Mzia Tsulukidze helped raise the money. We sent it, and she went to Turkey, did tests, they
prescribed treatment, chemotherapy. They told her she had one or two months to live, but she’s
still alive after four years. I tell them, "This child knows she might die, but we try to do what we
can." But gathering thousands and sending them suddenly, you understand what I mean. Then,
Giorgi Nikoleishvili also has a group, and we helped a girl live for six more years. She had
leukemia, and with Giorgi’s help, we kept her alive for six years. Niko Chkheidze also has a
community. We had COVID in our family—my husband, my daughter-in-law, the children, and
I. Five of us were together, and we had COVID at the same time. At that time, my neighbor Eka,
who is Niko’s wife, brought us hot food through the window. Our consul, Mrs. Diana, helped us.
There’s individual help, and of course, group help. When the crisis center was set up, it was an
extremely valuable and correct decision. Many people survived because of it. When COVID
started and the crisis center was created, we initially sent money from here to Italy, and there were
volunteers who bought medicine, rented apartments, because some employers were dismissing
Georgian emigrants from their jobs and leaving them out on the street, they were scared and needed
food, medicine, housing, and jobs. Then, it started in France, then Germany, and there was a
miracle in America. We helped each other. Milena, a girl, was going to pharmacies with her own
money, buying food and medicine, and delivering it to people with COVID. A lot of people
appeared, and somehow, this hardship brought us closer together. Now, there are Georgian doctors
at the Gonenrend Hospital. For example, Giga Adeishvili, a gynecologist, is the reason I’m alive
today and talking to you. There’s Ia, a unique girl, and Aleko Thoreli, a cardiologist. They are like
the “masters” of the Georgians there, and if anyone has a baby in Brooklyn, it’s usually Giga
Adeishvili who helps. I don’t know, I’m not a conflict person myself. I’m a teacher, I’ve worked
with children my whole life, and I can’t be in conflict. I probably don’t have those kinds of
relationships with people, I don’t know. But everyone I’ve met, with whom I’m friends or close
to, they are all helpful to one another. If you need something, it’s not like you’re left without help.
I don’t know if this happens in Europe, but I think it’s a little less there. However, emigration is
growing in Europe too, and I keep thinking about how many of us there are. We’ve been in so
many places now—there’s even a Georgian school in Indonesia with nine children. My teacher,
Diana, is there now, she used to teach at my school. Amazing things are happening.
Interviewer:
From this perspective, if you could make the decision again, would you have moved to America
to live?
Respondent:
Ah... now?... I don’t know, I don’t think so. If I were in Georgia now, I would still be working at
school, quite successfully, I had a private practice, I was preparing students for exams. By the way,
I have prepared many students, including my colleagues’ children, and I’ve never taken money
from them (smiles). One girl came to me once—we were at the city hall in New York, and she
said, "Do you remember me? You’re Rusudan, right, my teacher?" I said, "You look familiar..."
At that moment, our consul was there, and there were very serious people invited, including
doctors. And she asked if she could speak to the audience (she addressed the audience and said to
Mrs. Rusudan). She remembered that in the 90s, I had taught her, she had come from another
school, and then she stopped coming, and I called her to ask why she wasn’t coming. She said,
"We invested in business, lost everything in the 90s, lost our apartment, car, dacha, and now we
live in a rented place, we can’t afford to travel or prepare." But this girl was incredibly talented,
and I told her, "What are you talking about? The entrance exams are coming soon!" And, of course,
I prepared her, and she got into university for free. She was such a gifted girl, and now she lives
in New Jersey with her family. She came to America, and she said, "You completely changed my
perception of people, and you changed my life." What more happiness can there be than that? You
might have wealth today, but it can be gone tomorrow, and relationships are the most important
thing. I also used to teach at church, at the Church of the Virgin Mary here. I taught there for three
years. Of course, the parents told me they would pay me, but I told them, "I come to teach Georgian
to children born here, I don’t take money for that." It’s just not in me. When my son passed away,
one of my students, not a child but already an adult, came to the funeral and gave me some
Sefiskveri (სეფისკვერი - bread used for the Divine Liturgy) and told me, "Eat this so you don’t
get hungry, so you don’t feel bad." I felt so touched—at a funeral, he came up to me, barely able
to walk, and gave me that bread. I felt warmth in my heart. Those words stuck with me, and I
thought about them all day. That child’s kindness made me feel better despite everything I was
going through. The next Saturday, on the Day of the Dead, I took a cross to the church, and the
deacon blessed it and gave it back to me saying, "Take this, carry it." I thought, "Here, it’s more
valued in emigration, maybe in Georgia, it wouldn’t have the same meaning, but here, it holds
more value." You realize that people should be appreciated, respected, and honored in life—not
just after. That’s what matters. I told my children, "You have to appreciate what you have, while
you have it." There’s nothing more important than that. I don’t get involved in political arguments;
it means nothing to me. Appreciate what you have, thank God that you’re happy, and that’s enough.
Interviewer:
Thank you so much, Ms. Rusudan, for such a sincere and interesting interview...