Interview with Shorena Barbakadze
Title
Interview with Shorena Barbakadze
Interviewer
Maia Araviashvli
Interviewee
Shorena Barbakadze
Creator
Interview ID
GDP_IN_33
Format
Biographical Note
შორენა ბარბაქაძე რუსთავშია დაბადებული, 19 წლის ასაკში, 1998 წელს ჩამოდის ამერიკის შეერთებულ შტატებში, გასტროლებზე, როგორც ანსამბლ ,,ვარაზის“ მოცეკვავე. ჯგუფი გასტროლზე ფინანსურ გამოწვევებს ხვდება და გადაწყვეტილებას იღებენ დარჩნენ ამერიკაში. ქალბატონ შორენას ბევრი სირთულის გადალახვა უწევს, მუშაობს სხვადასხვა ნაკლებად კვალიფიციურ სამსახურში. მალევე ის ოჯახს ქმნის გასტროლებზე მათთან ერთად წასულ მუსიკოსთან. მათ მიერ გახსნილი სამოყვარულო ცეკვის წრე, ქართველი ემიგრანტებისათვის, კი მალე გახდება ქართული კულტურის ცენტრის გახსნის წინაპირობა, რომელიც ამჟამად კიდევ უფრო გაფართოებული მიმართულებებით საქმიანობს. ეს ინტერვიუ გვაცნობს შორენა ბარბაქაძის პირად და პროფესიულ ცხოვრებას ემიგრაციაში, სირთულეებს, რომელსაც შეხვდა და წარმატებებს რომელსაც მიაღწია.
Shorena Barbakadze was born in Rustavi. In 1998, at the age of 19, she embarked on a tour to the United States of America as a dancer with the Varazi ensemble. However, financial challenges confronted the band during the tour, leading to a fateful decision to remain in America. This decision marked the beginning of a challenging journey for Mrs. Shorena, who had to take on various low-skilled jobs to make end the financial challanges. In due course, she started a family with a fellow musician who had also been part of the Georgian tour. Together, they established an amateur dance class for Georgian immigrants. This would later become the foundation of the Georgian Culture Center, which has since expanded its scope and continues to thrive. This interview provides insight into Shorena Barbakadze's personal and professional life in emigration, shedding light on the obstacles she encountered and the successes she achieved.
Shorena Barbakadze was born in Rustavi. In 1998, at the age of 19, she embarked on a tour to the United States of America as a dancer with the Varazi ensemble. However, financial challenges confronted the band during the tour, leading to a fateful decision to remain in America. This decision marked the beginning of a challenging journey for Mrs. Shorena, who had to take on various low-skilled jobs to make end the financial challanges. In due course, she started a family with a fellow musician who had also been part of the Georgian tour. Together, they established an amateur dance class for Georgian immigrants. This would later become the foundation of the Georgian Culture Center, which has since expanded its scope and continues to thrive. This interview provides insight into Shorena Barbakadze's personal and professional life in emigration, shedding light on the obstacles she encountered and the successes she achieved.
Intrerview length
2:09:00
Date Created
Date Published
November 1, 2023
Location
Transcript length
26
Language
Subject
Director of Georgian Cultural Center: personal and professional life of emigrant
extracted text
Interview with Shorena Barbakadze, Head of the Cultural
Center “Pesvebi”
Conducted by Maia Araviashvili
March 26, 2023, New York, United States
Interviewer:
Hello and welcome. Today’s interviewee is Ms. Shorena, who leads the Georgian Cultural Center
“Pesvebi.”
Could you please introduce yourself and share some biographical details—when and where you
were born, a bit about your family, and tell us about your life in Georgia?
Respondent:
Hello, thank you so much for choosing to interview me. I don’t know, it might end up being a bit
long a big story but I’ll try to keep it as short as possible. I came to America when I was 19 years
old. That was 24 years ago, so this is the 25th year that we’ve been living in America. I was born
in the city of Rustavi. Um... my mother was the head of a kindergarten, a psychologist in early
childhood education, and my father was a veterinarian. But in our family, on both my mother’s
and father’s sides, everyone sang and danced. My father and aunt used to participate in school
Olympiads like there used to be during communist times they took part every year. They played
the panduri, and my father played the guitar. They would sing in harmony. The Barbakadze family
was known for this, even back then, in my neighborhood in Rustavi, where I was born.
Naturally, we me and my two sisters grew up surrounded by traditional folk songs from birth. As
we grew older, we learned how to sing in harmony. There was no one happier than my father.
He taught us traditional folk songs. He himself sang in an ensemble in the theater, in Rustavi, in
the cultural center of the metallurgical factory. There was a folk ensemble there, and my father
sang in it. They called it "Shvidkatsa" (The Seven Men). Whatever he learned there, he would
teach us to sing in harmony. Whenever we traveled, whether to the village or visiting someone
we always went singing from one song to the next.
As you know, during the 1990s there was no electricity that’s how we, the children of that
generation, grew up. As soon as we finished our schoolwork during the day, we would all gather
in the kitchen in the evening. There was a single gas stove, and we were fortunate to at least
have gas. So, we’d spend our evenings in the kitchen singing song after song until it was time for
bed. Even our neighbors knew—whenever the lights went out, the Barbakadzes would start their
concert, with panduri, guitar, and folk songs. That’s how I grew up.
Dancing was my hobby, and it still is, of course. In those dark, cold times, our parents were real
heroes managing to give us so much. They took us to dance classes and music schools. All three
of us me and my two sisters graduated from music school (a seven-year program, შვიდწლედი),
we all took dance lessons, played the panduri, guitar, everything our parents could offer us
despite the chaotic circumstances. Truly, parents of that era are heroes.
Later, when I graduated from high school, I moved to Tbilisi for my studies. I was studying to
become a translator… I was in my second year when I was also dancing in the ensemble “Varazi.”
In December 1998, the ensemble went on tour in America, and I was one of the 25 dancers
selected to come.
Meeting my husband was probably also God’s will he is a musician, an outstanding performer of
traditional Georgian instruments, a composer, and plays 13 instruments. He too was born into a
family of musicians. My father-in-law was a Meritorious Artist of Georgia, Aleksandre
Goderdzishvili, who sang in the ensemble “Kolketi.” I never imagined I would meet Vano
especially since I grew up listening to the songs of “Kolketi.”
Interviewer:
So, you met each other in America?
Respondent:
No, let me tell you. It happened during a rehearsal, when it was already decided that we were
going to America. We were a group of dancers from the ensemble, and my future father-in-law,
my future husband, and another third person came to the rehearsal. They had been selected to
join us as part of the singers’ group. You know how it is during the concerts, while the dancers
are changing costumes, the musicians and singers perform on stage. So, these three joined us,
and that’s when we first saw each other. But I didn’t even know his name or surname. It was just
that kind of eye contact you notice someone watching you (laughs). That was the situation. In
short, I saw my future husband only twice in Tbilisi before we flew to America.
Interviewer:
What year was this?
Respondent:
That was in ’98, 1998. We met sometime in November, and by December we had already flown
out. I even had some classes that were counted as credits, so I missed a rehearsal or two right
before we left. And just like that, we, 25 of us found ourselves in America.
Interviewer:
At the age of 19...
Respondent:
At 19 years old, when I left for the tour, my parents never imagined I would stay abroad. Our
family situation, even though we lived in poverty, wasn’t such that they would send me away to
work for the family. If my mother and father had even thought of that possibility, they would
never have let their 19-year-old daughter leave. I left for a three-month tour, planning to return,
but the situation changed. The promises we had been given did not materialize, and we went
through extreme hardship. We lived on $10 a week, I don’t even want to recall those times 25
people living in two rooms: girls in one room, boys in the other. We slept in shifts. It wasn’t an
environment where you could easily return after three months.
They had promised us $100 a day and constant concerts, so we had bought our own plane tickets.
Many had to take out loans with high interest rates just to get here. Returning was no longer an
option because my family had never been in debt and I couldn’t burden them with one. So all 25
of us stayed. We danced at one restaurant for three months, but eventually, the management
told us they could no longer pay our rent and suggested we either split up, or go back. We split
up, and four of us girls went to Florida.
Interviewer:
So, the city you were initially in?
Respondent:
We were in New York from the beginning in the area where I still live today. Three other girls and
I... One of them had a relative in Florida who worked as a hotel supervisor and needed staff, so
we flew to Florida. At that time, my future husband, who was my boyfriend, was madly in love
with me. He and my future father-in-law, who worked together sang in the restaurant (they
didn’t need dancers anymore). When I left, he couldn’t bear it; he quit everything and said he
was coming after Shorena (laughs). Within a week or two, he came to find me.
Of course, I was strongly against it at first. I refused because he had a child in Tbilisi although he
was divorced and had left his family, I knew he had a wife and child. Despite his assurances that
he was separated, living apart, and had no relationship anymore, I was very firm in my refusal. I
was a girl raised in a traditional family, I needed my parents’ approval. It became a struggle
between me and Vano. Even my father-in-law, a grown man, was trying to convince me, telling
me there would be no problems, that the child wouldn’t be an issue, that Vano was divorced. He
insisted I should agree.
Everyone in New York knew Vano was in love with Shorena (laughs). Even restaurant customers
were cautious around me they wouldn’t even greet me, worried that Vano would get upset
(laughs). It was a huge story. Honestly, Vano tells it much better than I do.
When we arrived in Florida, we met Georgians Lia and Louisa, who were wonderful people and
played a huge role in our lives. They would always say you could write a whole book about Vano’s
love for me how could I refuse someone who loved me that much? So basically, all of New York
was involved in trying to settle things between me and Vano.
After about seven months, things finally fell into place. Vano came to visit, but he had to move
to another state for work. After quitting the restaurant, he needed a job, and along with other
dancers, he went to South Carolina, where there were hotel jobs available at the time. We stayed
in Florida. South Carolina is about 10 hours from Florida, and he would drive back and forth,
spending his entire paycheck on travel.
Eventually, we managed to inform my parents, and finally, Vano and I got married in Florida,
starting our life together. Later, we moved from Florida to South Carolina, and from there, we
returned to New York in 2000. We lived like typical immigrants, both Vano and I worked. We also
continued dancing; we had a dance group.
We never lost touch with the 25 people we had started with even today, I could tell you where
each one is. Some of us remain very close, while with others, the relationship is more distant.
Many of us became godparents to each other's children. We survived hardship and emigration
together.
Interviewer:
If you could recall your first experiences what challenges did you face? Aside from the fact that
there were no jobs and you had to move from city to city, what difficulties did you encounter?
What do you remember as the hardest moment? How did you manage it? Who was with you?
Respondent:
The first thing I remember is when we landed in Florida and I went through training on how to
clean... Well, being Georgian (a girl)... For example, my mother had always taught us at home.
We used to have weekly "uborka" (cleaning day) they called it that — and it was a regular thing
(laughs). Since we were girls, we were expected to know everything. So, of course, it wasn’t hard
for us to learn how to clean hotel rooms the way they wanted.
The first time I went out alone, without a supervisor, I cried a lot. I remember vividly... They put
me in a uniform, I was very skinny back then and they couldn't find my size, so the clothes were
about ten sizes too big. On top of that, I wore an apron and carried a big cart, called a "kaleta,"
stacked with everything I needed. I was pushing it around, crying as I went, thinking about my
mom...
My mother didn’t know what kind of hardship we were going through. We didn’t tell them. Back
then, we could only call home once a week for five minutes — we didn’t have money for calling
cards or anything. It was important just to hear each other’s voices once a week to know we were
alive and well. Of course, we didn’t mention the struggles we faced daily. We reassured them
that everything was fine.
I clearly remember standing there, having to knock on the first door, announce myself as
housekeeping, "Housekeeper!" and it took me a few minutes just to bring myself to do it. I was
crying so much, thinking, “Oh, Mother, if you could see me now… What am I doing here? I was
supposed to study, I had other plans, and now I’m a hotel housekeeper.” Not that I thought it
was shameful, but still, it wasn’t part of the plans I had for myself.
To this day, every time I stay at a hotel and we travel a lot for performances I try to leave the
room tidy and also leave some money behind for the housekeeping staff. I remember how it felt
when I earned $5.50 an hour and hoped that maybe, on top of my wage, someone would leave
a little extra tip, so I could afford something small and nice for myself. Now I always try to do that
for others, leave a neat room and a tip, so they can clean quickly and move on to the next room.
This
feeling
has
stayed
with
me
for
24
years.
As for overcoming it, I think our marriage helped a lot. We, Georgians, stuck together and
supported each other financially and emotionally. We helped each other find jobs. Later, we also
danced in a group and performed at restaurants for birthdays, New Year’s celebrations, holidays,
and weddings, which helped financially too.
Financial hardship is one thing, but the psychological pressure was another. However, our
togetherness made it easier to bear the emotional burden. It was very hard for those who had
left behind children or spouses. I was alone at first, and later when I got married, psychologically,
it wasn’t as hard for me as it might have been for others.
When you’re young, you handle hardships differently. If you’re older, with a family to support,
it’s
a
different
kind
of
weight.
So I think being together helped us manage psychologically.
Later, when I became pregnant, my father-in-law was with us and supported us financially until
he returned to Georgia three years later.
When my first child, Giorgi, was born, he became the child of the entire Georgian immigrant
community (smiles). Everyone would come to see him and pour their love into him the love and
warmth they missed from their own families. Giorgi was born like that he grew up as the "child
of emigration." Today he’s 22 years old, and he grew up before the eyes of the whole old
immigrant community. They all still love Giorgi dearly, and everyone who remembers his birth
keeps a photo of him at home. Even today, when I meet someone, they say, “I have a photo of
Giorgi at home!”
He grew up loved by the entire old Georgian immigrant community. It makes me very happy to
see him grown into a strong Georgian man, successful and professional in everything he does.
Interviewer:
Let's also touch a little on expectations. When you left Georgia, as you mentioned, you had
different expectations. How different was the reality you encountered here, and from today's
perspective, would you make the same decision again, based on the experience you have gained?
Respondent:
In short, the expectations were, as I mentioned, that we would dance and earn a salary from
concert performances. We were supposed to come for three months, and they promised us $100
per day. Just imagine, coming from a darkened Georgia, earning $100 a day, and saving a large
amount in three months to return back — that was one moment that didn’t come true.
Afterward, everything depended on us, what steps we would take. I could have gone back, and
my parents would have happily welcomed me, even if they might have accumulated some debt.
However, there was another side to it: I truly hadn't planned to start a family, but it happened,
and we did create a family. The expectation was that when our son Giorgi was born, we sent him
to Georgia at five months old, intending to return as soon as possible. However, a child born here
had the privilege of a passport, meaning he could return whenever we wanted.
I think we, as young people, made many mistakes back then. We didn't foresee that we would
have to stay here for so long. We didn’t hurry to legalize our status; we worked like every
immigrant. Young people tend to spend differently, thinking money will always be there, saving
nothing. Vano and I were unable to save anything and couldn’t return. Every single day began
with the desire to go back to Georgia, to buy something, to do something — but it never worked
out.
I don't know whether to blame it on our youth or on misusing time, but you could say we misused
time and didn’t foresee how long we'd have to stay. And once you start a family with children, it
becomes very, very hard to put something aside, especially when my husband had to change jobs
often.
In Georgian culture, someone always has something to say, so Georgians wouldn't easily endure
certain workplace environments. You leave one job, look for another, and so it goes. We never
stayed at one job long. In America, even one day without work sets you back a week.
In short, we couldn’t save, we couldn't go back. Giorgi was brought back again to live with us.
Over the years, more and more Georgian children appeared who no longer spoke Georgian to
each other. That was when my husband and I realized we had to do something.
We brought Giorgi back and thought: what do we do? We couldn't bear for our child to grow up
speaking only English and forgetting Georgian. That would have been a huge blow (ძალიან
დიდი
დარტყმა)
for
us.
Before we sent Giorgi back in 2001, we, Georgians, used to gather in an Orthodox Church. Father
Alexander was our priest then (and still is today), leading Georgian services wonderfully.
Back then, Georgian girls, seeing that I was an active dancer with a dance group, performing at
various events, asked me to teach them Georgian dance. There was no internet then, no Zoom
or Messenger; phone calls to Georgia were once a week at most. There was a huge longing for
Georgian
music
and
songs.
In 2001, in the church basement, I started teaching Georgian dance. Sundays became a
celebration for everyone, coming together, dancing to Georgian music. My husband played the
accordion, my friend played the drum (doli), and through that music, we eased our homesickness.
When I later saw that children were no longer speaking Georgian, and since we already had our
own child, the situation clearly demanded that we create something Georgian for them.
That's where the idea came from not because we had such expectations when we arrived in 1998.
Life
circumstances
showed
us
the
necessity.
Starting in 2003, we began gathering children. At first, I had only four students. I personally drove
them to rehearsals and back so as not to burden their parents, who all had busy schedules. I
made
sure
the
kids
didn’t
miss
rehearsals.
Since 2001, we have been serving the Georgian cause. Over time we grew, and now if someone
needs Georgian culture represented anywhere, we are We are not reluctant, we are ready to
travel
to
other
cities,
states,
or
even
Europe.
It's a blessing that our children also get to see other countries, cities, and states, and others see
what
Georgian
culture
is.
Even if we went to the Moon, if Georgians ever reached there, we would create our community
and
preserve
our
identity.
Indeed, the first generation of "Roots" (our organization) still speaks Georgian fluently, listens to
Georgian
music,
and
many
have
created
Georgian
families.
My son's generation, Giorgi's generation also speaks Georgian freely. We now have four children,
and all of them speak Georgian fluently, love participating in Georgian activities, and proudly
represent
our
culture
24/7.
We
take
pride
in
promoting
Georgian
culture
wherever
we
can.
We never imagined at the beginning that we could build such a large school. Initially, many
laughed at us, wondering why we were struggling and for whom , “who needs your Georgian
culture
here
in
America?”
But
we
shattered
that
belief.
Even my relatives and parents constantly said, "Come back, come back — the kids won't grow up
Georgian
here,
they'll
be
lost."
Everyone
cried
over
it.
But we proved that if you really want to, you can raise your children Georgian anywhere.
My children read, write, and speak Georgian fluently, thanks especially to Teacher Rusudan. We
sent two of our daughters to Georgia for two years to learn reading and writing, and now Mariam
and
Tekla
know
Georgian
perfectly
thanks
to
her.
We have a younger daughter, Sophie, six years old, who also studies with Teacher Rusudan.
Today, Mariam is 18 and works as a translator at a lawyer’s office — her English and Georgian
are
both
excellent,
as
are
many
other
children's.
Recently, a Turkish company approached us — they organize shows and were so impressed with
our children that they want them to continue participating in their events. Not only in Georgian
dances
but
also
teaching
others
different
dances.
Two weeks of rehearsals just finished, and they will come again in April and October.
Before they left, the manager (not a choreographer) said, “I don't know how you do it, but your
kids even speak Georgian to each other, ages 14–20. Among our Turkish community, kids hardly
speak
Turkish
anymore.”
What could be more rewarding than that? No money, no wealth could replace that pride.
This Georgian work (ქართული საქმე) my husband and I have dedicated our whole lives to it.
The greatest appreciation is that people recognize it, that these kids stayed Georgian.
We saved generations, promoted Georgian culture, and made a name for it everywhere we could.
Just two weeks ago, we had a performance in Atlanta, Georgia. Even today, the festival organizers
are still talking about our children, the dances, the costumes everything. What kind of
performance you staged they are sayng.
Interviewer:
Let’s dig deeper into that situation the Turkish businessman’s partner’s question. If we think
functionally, what exactly are you doing that others might not be doing to preserve Georgian
identity? One part is dance, another is learning the Georgian language, but maybe you have a
specific approach to teaching or communicating, an additional mechanis, that keeps
Georgianness alive in everyday practice. Let’s explore that more closely.
Respondent:
Generally, my husband and I demanded that at home, when the children spoke to each other,
they spoke in Georgian. We also asked their friends to do the same. You couldn’t set foot in our
home
without
speaking
Georgian.
When we sent Giorgi to Georgia for two years, he completed third and fourth grade there, people
there would ask him to teach them English, to speak English, and he would say, “No way, if my
dad finds out, he’ll scold me” (smiles). Even there, he continued speaking Georgian and wasn’t
afraid
of
forgetting
English
that's
one
thing.
Then there were the little kids. They used to call Vano (my husband) “Bua,”(scary man) and when
they saw him coming, they would quickly switch to Georgian, even if they had been speaking
English just moments before. They’d say, "Uncle Bua is coming, speak Georgian!" (smiles).
Those children — the ones who are now 18 years old and who were practically born into our
hands, growing up alongside our kids — have stayed with us from day one, and even as little
ones, they had this rule: when Vano was around, they spoke Georgian.
When they enter the dance hall today, they know — inside the hall, they must speak Georgian.
Of course, sometimes little moments slip by they start speaking English but as soon as I hear it,
I immediately intervene. I remind them: “This is a Georgian school. Where do you go? What’s the
name
of
your
school?
‘Roots.’”
Then we explain what “Roots” means. It's even written on our T-shirts in both Georgian and
English. They must know what school they attend and why it’s called “Roots” — that it’s about
preserving
their
heritage.
Because here in New York, especially, every school has a special day where children have to
present their national culture where they are from through costumes, food, whatever their
families
can
prepare.
Every moment in New York you hear, “Where are you from?” they must know how to answer.
Of course, there are families who honestly don't care whether their kids speak Georgian or
English. Beyond that, there’s also the natural challenge: children who grow up hearing two or
three languages can have delayed speech, and many specialists recommend focusing on English
only, at least until age three or four, to help the child develop language skills more easily.
I’m not talking about those cases where it’s medically necessary to focus on one language.
I'm talking about the families who simply don’t care what language their children speak.
Interviewer:
Roughly speaking, how many families genuinely don't care whether their kids speak Georgian,
and how many are actively trying to maintain Georgian language, lifestyle, identity?
Respondent:
Whoever comes to us to "Roots" — almost certainly values preserving Georgian identity.
Otherwise,
they
wouldn’t
end
up
here.
A parent wouldn’t bring their child to a Georgian environment, to a Georgian school, or even
consider it worthwhile to pay even a small fee for it, unless they cared.
How could I sustain such a big rehearsal hall or everything else without the parents' support?
If a parent didn’t care, they wouldn’t bother — they wouldn’t pay the fee, they wouldn’t come,
they wouldn’t sit and wait during rehearsals, they wouldn’t accompany us to performances.
Families like that, who are indifferent, tend to stay away from Georgian spaces and find
themselves involved elsewhere.
Interviewer:
When we talk about "Georgianness" itself, for you, as the head of such a large cultural center —
what do we mean by preserving Georgian identity? What does preserving Georgian identity mean
to you personally?
Respondent:
First and foremost, it’s about remembering where you come from, that's exactly why our cultural
center
is
called
“Roots.”
They must always remember who they are, where they come from, and what culture and country
they
represent.
We
always
emphasize
this
point.
Maybe there’s not always time during rehearsals, but when the children grow up a little, when
we take them on tours or trips, we hold lecture-like talks for them.
We explain what it means to be Georgian, what kind of history we have survived, how such a
small country made it through such difficult times without disappearing.
Even here in America, although they are Georgian-Americans, they must preserve their
Georgianness, because we truly have something to be proud of, something worth showing the
world.
It’s important to make it clear to everyone that we are not Russians we are Georgians, the
descendants
of
a
miraculous
small
nation.
These
kids
always
need
this
connection.
In schools, they work on projects, they organize celebrations, concerts and they complete these
projects with great pride, showing that their roots are in Georgia and that they are Georgians.
For me personally, I don’t even know how to fully express it, I am a very big patriot of my country,
and
so
is
my
husband.
Probably if we didn’t have this patriotism, we couldn’t have withstood everything we went
through.
We
faced
and
still
face
a
lot
of
pressure.
Thanks to God's help, our own hard work, and the support of parents, we have managed to
survive.
It
is
truly
a
miracle
that
“Roots”
has
lasted
for
22
years.
There were many moments when we felt like giving up, when we said, “That’s it, we can’t do this
anymore,”
but
with
God's
blessing,
we
are
still
here.
Even today, parents call me saying, "Shorena, please let the kids come back home, they have
school
tomorrow,
they
need
to
go
home."
The
children
have
each
other;
they
are
happy
to
be
together.
The first generation of our students still helps each other to this day — whether it's finding a job,
becoming godparents to each other’s children, or simply maintaining a close circle.
Generations
are
following
one
another
in
this
way.
Many parents met through “Roots” and are now relatives through marriage.
We do all this so that we don’t get lost, so that we don’t get mixed into other cultures, but rather
preserve
centers
like
this
that
maintain
Georgian
culture
abroad.
We Georgians are very nostalgic and patriotic — maybe even more so than we initially thought.
But honestly, seeing other nationalities Muslims, Arabs, Pakistanis they all try to preserve their
culture,
their
language,
their
religion.
They build their own churches and mosques and why shouldn't we, Georgians, do the same?
We have nothing to lose; on the contrary, we should make the world know who we are, where
we
come
from,
what
kind
of
heritage
we
carry.
We have exceptionally talented children, and I know they will achieve great things.
The "code" of being Georgian that we plant in them during childhood will later benefit Georgia
greatly.
I truly believe that these talented children will take important positions tomorrow and the day
after, and they must remember the roots we instilled in them so that even if they don’t directly
help Georgia, they will at least help the Georgian community abroad.
And if they do return and contribute to Georgia itself, then one of our biggest dreams will come
true and that’s also one of our main goals.
Interviewer:
Now, speaking of maintaining contact and communication with Georgia Mrs. Rusudan proudly
mentioned during her interview that during the 2015 flood in Tbilisi, you organized charity
concerts
and
helped
the
victims.
She also said that you frequently organize concerts in Georgia itself and continue the work you
do
here,
over
there
too.
Could
you
tell
us
a
bit
about
that?
Beyond your professional activities and taking children to Georgia, how would you describe your
communication
with
Georgia?
How
do
you
maintain
contact?
How does your communication with Georgia help your work and your daily life here?
What forms does that communication take?
Respondent:
I wouldn’t say that we are very engaged in everyday life communications with Georgia, in general,
we don’t like to bother people. Whatever we do, we carry a lot on our own shoulders, a lot of
our time, work hours, finances. I personally don’t like asking for help just because of who I am or
what I'm doing. If we have traveled, it's often been with our own resources. For example, in 2015,
when I traveled to Georgia, a few children came with us for the first time. They reunited with
their relatives, and the following year their parents were saying, laughing, “Shorena and Vano,
what are you doing to us? We can’t afford yearly trips to Georgia, but now the kids are begging
to go every year!”
Our communication with Georgia mainly starts with the families. The children absolutely love
being there. When they have not seen Georgia for a few years, parents or sometimes I manage
to take them. Their reaction is always the same: "Mom, why are we living in America cramped
into one or two rooms, when here we have such big houses and yards?" They don’t want to come
back, they want to stay there, especially at a young age when they can run free and roam
everywhere. In the U.S., their movement is very restricted, they have to stick close to their
parents or an adult until a certain age. Even my own four children grew up cramped into a small
space, so they always notice and question why we’re not living in Georgia with all that space.
As for 2015, when we traveled, our close friend Irina Khuchiaashvili helped us organize a concert
at the Rustaveli and Griboedov Theater. The Ministry of Culture, particularly Ms. Nina, also
supported us by waiving the rental fee. All proceeds from the concert went to families affected
by the devastating June 13 flood in Tbilisi, specifically to a priest’s family who lost their daughter,
Ivleta.
We frequently participate in charity concerts and explain to the children what charity means and
why it's important, so that when they grow up, achieve success, and have the financial means,
they’ll know to give back, not just money but also their time and effort. We teach them that no
matter where life takes them, they must remain charitable. When we came to Tbilisi, we showed
the children exactly how the concert proceeds were helping real families.
Originally, we had other plans, but when tragedy struck, the situation changed, and everyone
agreed the proceeds should go to charity.
Now, again, we’re planning another concert this summer, on July 9, 2023, at the Philharmonic
State Concert Hall in Tbilisi. This will be "Fesvebi's" (Roots') solo concert. We want the children
to perform in front of a Georgian audience, it's very important. Performing for Georgians is
completely different than performing for foreigners, the children prepare differently, feel
differently, and take it very seriously. We want the Georgian audience to see what we have built
far away from home, and we want our children to see the warm reception and encouragement
from Georgians, to show them that preserving Georgian culture and identity matters.
We hope this concert will also plant the idea in their hearts that one day they should return and
serve Georgia. This is our goal: to strengthen their Georgian identity and their bond with Georgia.
Regarding official connections, we reach out to the Ministry of Culture, Ministry of Foreign
Affairs, the Patriarchate, television channels, whoever we can, to make sure people know about
the concert. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs always allocates grants for diaspora ensembles and
schools. This year, for instance, we received two grants. One grant of 10,000 GEL was used
entirely for the children's costumes. Today, our older kids wear Adjarian costumes and black
chokhas (traditional Georgian coats) made from that grant. The other grant supported our solo
concert.
Of course, these grants don’t cover everything, but even a little support is a huge help. Still, I
often feel conflicted, should I even apply for grants? I sometimes feel that by accepting grants,
I’m taking resources away from children in Georgia. I know that's not entirely rational, but that's
how I feel. Many times I hesitated to apply, but friends kept encouraging me, “Shorena, apply! It
will help sew costumes; it will help the parents too.” Many parents have two or three children
like I do, and buying multiple sets of costumes is a burden. The grants help lighten that burden.
Even for me personally, it's a relief.
Nonetheless, deep down, it still aches, I always feel that maybe I'm depriving Georgian children
in
Georgia
of
something.
But overall, I’m incredibly grateful to our state for however much they can help Georgian schools
abroad. Their support is invaluable.
Interviewer:
When we look at the local Georgian community here, are there mechanisms of mutual
assistance? You mentioned earlier that the 25 members of your group used to support each
other. If we look at the current situation, what are the experiences now? How do Georgians help
each other? How do they support newcomers in overcoming the challenges of the initial period?
Are there any systemic mechanisms, or is it still more of an individual effort where everyone
seeks their own network to overcome the first challenges?
Respondent:
I'll tell you a bit about the reality now. There is this situation between the earlier immigrants and
the new arrivals (laughs). I'm personally quite closed off now. From September to July, we
basically don't have a life outside of work. I try not to get too involved, but if someone needs my
help, I’m here, and I help as much as I can. However, where there are Georgians, there is always
some negativity, but of course, a lot of positivity too. I will say this: when others from outside our
community look at us, they are always shocked, they wonder how Georgians manage to support
each other so strongly and how we've raised the level of culture so high, how we’ve raised
children so connected to their heritage. Many non-Georgians have told us they are surprised:
"How do you manage all this? Who helps you? How are you able to maintain such high
standards?" They are impressed by the quality, particularly when comparing Georgian schools
abroad to others.
As for relations among Georgians themselves: among the older and newer immigrants, there’s
always some tension. The older ones often say, "You new arrivals don't want to go through what
we went through. You refuse to accept low-paying jobs. You want everything quickly, things we
worked years for." And the new arrivals respond, "Why should we go through the same
hardships? Why do the older immigrants insist that we struggle just like they did?" (smiles). So
this kind of tug-of-war always exists between the older and newer immigrants.
But despite that, I will say that the new arrivals receive a lot of help from the earlier immigrants,
from those who have established themselves and are stable enough to offer even a little help. I
know many people around me who offer tremendous support. There are many Georgian
Facebook groups, countless ones, that try very hard to help new immigrants, even those who
haven't arrived yet. They are provided with information and support without even needing to
ask.
There are many groups, I don't like listing names because I’m afraid of leaving someone out, but
groups like "Millennium," "Us in America," "blessed deed (მადლიანი საქმე)","Super Moms,"
led by Ms. Mzia Tzulukidze, and many others. I always express my gratitude to them because
what they do requires nerves of steel, a lot of time, and deserves real appreciation: finding
housing, finding jobs, finding doctors, they are always ready to respond and assist.
I saw this especially during COVID. For example, under the leadership of Mr. Nika Chkheidze, a
crisis center was formed with many Georgians involved, including Ms. Ina. Doctors and volunteers
mobilized, and many were engaged. I personally transferred money a few times because I
couldn’t physically help, but others could, some helped with physical assistance, some with
financial aid. Tremendous support was provided during that time, food deliveries, transportation,
finding necessary supplies, not only in America but money was also being sent from here to Italy
and other countries where Georgians abroad were struggling.
So I can't say that Georgians don't help each other. Maybe there are one or two, maybe ten,
dissatisfied individuals who feel that an older immigrant didn’t help them, but overall, I can say
that 90–99% of the time, Georgian immigrants do receive assistance.
Interviewer:
If we compare the older generation of immigrants to the newer one, how similar are the
challenges they face? For example, issues like legal or illegal status, language proficiency, finding
a job, among these three components: language barriers, financial support, employment, and
obtaining legal status, how similar or different are they for the newer wave compared to the
older immigrants?
Respondent:
I believe that what the older generation of immigrants went through, the new generation simply
cannot experience, physically cannot, because today’s new immigrants have access to so much
information. They just won't go through what we went through. Of course, we had language
barriers, of course we were unemployed, of course many of us were undocumented, and I don't
even know how we managed back then. We would search for jobs through word of mouth and
over the phone. There were certain agents you could call to find work, and some of those agents
are
still
around
even
today
(smiles).
But back then, we were truly in an informational vacuum. Imagine arriving in 1998, there was no
internet, no mobile phones, no communication tools. The new arrivals can't experience that,
even if they tried, because today you don’t even have to ask questions, the answers are already
available. Thanks to phones, internet, and recorded resources, they have everything at their
fingertips.
Interviewer:
You mentioned moving to Philadelphia and spoke about two women who helped, if I remember
correctly, had they arrived before you?
Respondent:
Yes, they had arrived before us. This was in Florida. They were already there. One of our dancers
knew one of the women because she was her neighbor, so she had her phone number and knew
that Lia was there. So our dancer came prepared, knowing she could call her if needed (smiles).
And when the time came, after we needed certain documents, we called her. She said, "Come
on, girls, I have jobs for you." By then, she was already a supervisor.
Interviewer:
Do you remember approximately how long before you she had arrived?
Respondent:
Maybe about 1 to 2 years earlier, not more. During that period, immigration really surged, and
Georgia pretty much emptied out (laughs). So at most, she would have been there 1 to 2 years
before us.
Interviewer:
For the period we're talking about, most of the people we've interviewed so far arrived in 19971998, do you remember your travel route? Through which cities did you fly?
Respondent:
For us, it wasn’t difficult to get visas. We didn't have to stand in long lines for days and nights.
We went as a dance group, all dressed nicely, and got our visas very quickly.
As for the flight, if I remember correctly, it was Tbilisi to Moscow, we had to stay about 24 hours
in Moscow, maybe overnight and then from Moscow, we flew directly to New York.
This is actually a funny memory for me and Vano: I heard his voice for the first time during that
layover in Moscow. In Tbilisi, we hadn't really spoken before. I just overheard that he was
married, and for me, that was enough, I decided right then and there to keep my distance
(laughs).
In Moscow, there wasn’t much else to do, and someone told me, "He plays the panduri!" and
that's how Vano approached me. We spent that night singing songs together in the airport, and
then
we
flew
to
New
York.
Once in New York, the husband of our group leader, who had arrived earlier, was already there.
He had rented an apartment for us, took us there, and then our real hardships began. I think even
our leaders didn’t fully expect how things would turn out, it wasn't well organized.
Eventually, we all had to stay together, and honestly, deep down, I always had the idea that I
might stay here, but I didn’t tell my parents because if I had, they would never have let me leave
(laughs).
Interviewer:
Do you plan to return to Georgia someday, and if so, why do you intend to return?
Respondent:
Yes, it’s our dream. As I mentioned earlier, we made a mistake from the beginning by always
thinking we would eventually return, so we didn’t take care of our legal paperwork properly.
My husband returned to Georgia for the first time after 23 years, he hadn't been back for 23
years and even we wonder how we managed, how we endured, and how such a patriotic person
could
bear
it.
What helped him endure was the work we were doing, he was constantly involved in Georgian
causes, always surrounded by Georgian children, Georgian culture, Georgian activities and that
made it feel like he was still in Georgia even though we were physically in America.
Honestly, when you are among our community here, you feel like you are still in Georgia; you
don’t
really
feel
you
are
in
America.
Regarding returning, we are always "returning," even today, we are still "returning." We've been
in
this
process
for
25
years
now.
But, in reality, we haven't even been able to move from New York to another city, let alone back
to
Georgia.
It’s as if something keeps calling us back, the work we are devoted to, the Georgian cause (საქმე)
keeps
pulling
us
back
to
New
York,
tying
us
to
these
"roots."
And I can say honestly: I love these roots no less than my own children, because we have invested
so much time and energy into them, sometimes even more than into our own family.
There were many times when we said, "Let’s move somewhere else or leave," but then we’d
always ask ourselves, "But what about the roots? What about the roots?" (smiles)
We went through that process many times, we just couldn't leave the community and the
environment
we
built
here.
And this played a huge role in why we didn’t return earlier, why we missed the right time to go
back.
I always regret that, that we wasted so much time and didn’t take care of financial matters
properly.
The only property Vano and I own in Georgia is a single apartment we managed to buy in 2004. I
remember
it
well
and
my
mother-in-law
helped
make
that
happen.
Other than that, we’ve always thought, “Yes, we'll go back," but you need a solid foundation to
return, otherwise, you risk running back here again if things don’t work out.
We still haven’t created that solid base because all our finances and time have been consumed
by
the
"roots."
We didn’t have enough resources left to build something back home that would allow us to return
permanently.
But
to
this
day,
we
are
always
returning.
Now, we’re thinking , since our children are grown, if they are willing to move back too, and they
really do love Georgia (my daughters especially said they wanted to study there and continue
their
lives
there),
we’re
planning
to
move
as
well.
Once our children are settled and no longer need mom and dad’s daily support, Vano and I are
still
planning
to
go.
Vano dreams of living in his hometown, he is from Sno, near Kazbegi and we want to live there.
From there, we hope to help our children as much as we can and also give back to Georgia.
We want to share our life experience, we have enough to give real lectures on it especially Vano.
We want to help the youth in Georgia so they know what to expect if they choose to go abroad,
how to start, what to avoid, and so they don’t repeat the mistakes we made.
By the way, I always say that emigration is like military service, just as military service is important
for young men, I believe every young person should experience at least two years abroad.
It really changes your perspective: you appreciate your time differently, you value your homeland
more,
and
you
re-evaluate
everything.
It would be great if there were programs where young people could live abroad for two years,
endure the hardships without mommy and daddy, learn how to survive on their own, and then
come
back.
It
would
help
them
a
lot
in
life.
Experiencing emigration isn’t a bad thing, even just how time is structured abroad is different,
and you learn to manage your time better, to move quickly toward your goals.
I truly believe that two years abroad would be beneficial for young people, but I’m afraid that
once
they
leave,
they
might
not
come
back
(laughs).
Everyone should return, that’s important.
Interviewer:
Thank you very much for the interview.
Center “Pesvebi”
Conducted by Maia Araviashvili
March 26, 2023, New York, United States
Interviewer:
Hello and welcome. Today’s interviewee is Ms. Shorena, who leads the Georgian Cultural Center
“Pesvebi.”
Could you please introduce yourself and share some biographical details—when and where you
were born, a bit about your family, and tell us about your life in Georgia?
Respondent:
Hello, thank you so much for choosing to interview me. I don’t know, it might end up being a bit
long a big story but I’ll try to keep it as short as possible. I came to America when I was 19 years
old. That was 24 years ago, so this is the 25th year that we’ve been living in America. I was born
in the city of Rustavi. Um... my mother was the head of a kindergarten, a psychologist in early
childhood education, and my father was a veterinarian. But in our family, on both my mother’s
and father’s sides, everyone sang and danced. My father and aunt used to participate in school
Olympiads like there used to be during communist times they took part every year. They played
the panduri, and my father played the guitar. They would sing in harmony. The Barbakadze family
was known for this, even back then, in my neighborhood in Rustavi, where I was born.
Naturally, we me and my two sisters grew up surrounded by traditional folk songs from birth. As
we grew older, we learned how to sing in harmony. There was no one happier than my father.
He taught us traditional folk songs. He himself sang in an ensemble in the theater, in Rustavi, in
the cultural center of the metallurgical factory. There was a folk ensemble there, and my father
sang in it. They called it "Shvidkatsa" (The Seven Men). Whatever he learned there, he would
teach us to sing in harmony. Whenever we traveled, whether to the village or visiting someone
we always went singing from one song to the next.
As you know, during the 1990s there was no electricity that’s how we, the children of that
generation, grew up. As soon as we finished our schoolwork during the day, we would all gather
in the kitchen in the evening. There was a single gas stove, and we were fortunate to at least
have gas. So, we’d spend our evenings in the kitchen singing song after song until it was time for
bed. Even our neighbors knew—whenever the lights went out, the Barbakadzes would start their
concert, with panduri, guitar, and folk songs. That’s how I grew up.
Dancing was my hobby, and it still is, of course. In those dark, cold times, our parents were real
heroes managing to give us so much. They took us to dance classes and music schools. All three
of us me and my two sisters graduated from music school (a seven-year program, შვიდწლედი),
we all took dance lessons, played the panduri, guitar, everything our parents could offer us
despite the chaotic circumstances. Truly, parents of that era are heroes.
Later, when I graduated from high school, I moved to Tbilisi for my studies. I was studying to
become a translator… I was in my second year when I was also dancing in the ensemble “Varazi.”
In December 1998, the ensemble went on tour in America, and I was one of the 25 dancers
selected to come.
Meeting my husband was probably also God’s will he is a musician, an outstanding performer of
traditional Georgian instruments, a composer, and plays 13 instruments. He too was born into a
family of musicians. My father-in-law was a Meritorious Artist of Georgia, Aleksandre
Goderdzishvili, who sang in the ensemble “Kolketi.” I never imagined I would meet Vano
especially since I grew up listening to the songs of “Kolketi.”
Interviewer:
So, you met each other in America?
Respondent:
No, let me tell you. It happened during a rehearsal, when it was already decided that we were
going to America. We were a group of dancers from the ensemble, and my future father-in-law,
my future husband, and another third person came to the rehearsal. They had been selected to
join us as part of the singers’ group. You know how it is during the concerts, while the dancers
are changing costumes, the musicians and singers perform on stage. So, these three joined us,
and that’s when we first saw each other. But I didn’t even know his name or surname. It was just
that kind of eye contact you notice someone watching you (laughs). That was the situation. In
short, I saw my future husband only twice in Tbilisi before we flew to America.
Interviewer:
What year was this?
Respondent:
That was in ’98, 1998. We met sometime in November, and by December we had already flown
out. I even had some classes that were counted as credits, so I missed a rehearsal or two right
before we left. And just like that, we, 25 of us found ourselves in America.
Interviewer:
At the age of 19...
Respondent:
At 19 years old, when I left for the tour, my parents never imagined I would stay abroad. Our
family situation, even though we lived in poverty, wasn’t such that they would send me away to
work for the family. If my mother and father had even thought of that possibility, they would
never have let their 19-year-old daughter leave. I left for a three-month tour, planning to return,
but the situation changed. The promises we had been given did not materialize, and we went
through extreme hardship. We lived on $10 a week, I don’t even want to recall those times 25
people living in two rooms: girls in one room, boys in the other. We slept in shifts. It wasn’t an
environment where you could easily return after three months.
They had promised us $100 a day and constant concerts, so we had bought our own plane tickets.
Many had to take out loans with high interest rates just to get here. Returning was no longer an
option because my family had never been in debt and I couldn’t burden them with one. So all 25
of us stayed. We danced at one restaurant for three months, but eventually, the management
told us they could no longer pay our rent and suggested we either split up, or go back. We split
up, and four of us girls went to Florida.
Interviewer:
So, the city you were initially in?
Respondent:
We were in New York from the beginning in the area where I still live today. Three other girls and
I... One of them had a relative in Florida who worked as a hotel supervisor and needed staff, so
we flew to Florida. At that time, my future husband, who was my boyfriend, was madly in love
with me. He and my future father-in-law, who worked together sang in the restaurant (they
didn’t need dancers anymore). When I left, he couldn’t bear it; he quit everything and said he
was coming after Shorena (laughs). Within a week or two, he came to find me.
Of course, I was strongly against it at first. I refused because he had a child in Tbilisi although he
was divorced and had left his family, I knew he had a wife and child. Despite his assurances that
he was separated, living apart, and had no relationship anymore, I was very firm in my refusal. I
was a girl raised in a traditional family, I needed my parents’ approval. It became a struggle
between me and Vano. Even my father-in-law, a grown man, was trying to convince me, telling
me there would be no problems, that the child wouldn’t be an issue, that Vano was divorced. He
insisted I should agree.
Everyone in New York knew Vano was in love with Shorena (laughs). Even restaurant customers
were cautious around me they wouldn’t even greet me, worried that Vano would get upset
(laughs). It was a huge story. Honestly, Vano tells it much better than I do.
When we arrived in Florida, we met Georgians Lia and Louisa, who were wonderful people and
played a huge role in our lives. They would always say you could write a whole book about Vano’s
love for me how could I refuse someone who loved me that much? So basically, all of New York
was involved in trying to settle things between me and Vano.
After about seven months, things finally fell into place. Vano came to visit, but he had to move
to another state for work. After quitting the restaurant, he needed a job, and along with other
dancers, he went to South Carolina, where there were hotel jobs available at the time. We stayed
in Florida. South Carolina is about 10 hours from Florida, and he would drive back and forth,
spending his entire paycheck on travel.
Eventually, we managed to inform my parents, and finally, Vano and I got married in Florida,
starting our life together. Later, we moved from Florida to South Carolina, and from there, we
returned to New York in 2000. We lived like typical immigrants, both Vano and I worked. We also
continued dancing; we had a dance group.
We never lost touch with the 25 people we had started with even today, I could tell you where
each one is. Some of us remain very close, while with others, the relationship is more distant.
Many of us became godparents to each other's children. We survived hardship and emigration
together.
Interviewer:
If you could recall your first experiences what challenges did you face? Aside from the fact that
there were no jobs and you had to move from city to city, what difficulties did you encounter?
What do you remember as the hardest moment? How did you manage it? Who was with you?
Respondent:
The first thing I remember is when we landed in Florida and I went through training on how to
clean... Well, being Georgian (a girl)... For example, my mother had always taught us at home.
We used to have weekly "uborka" (cleaning day) they called it that — and it was a regular thing
(laughs). Since we were girls, we were expected to know everything. So, of course, it wasn’t hard
for us to learn how to clean hotel rooms the way they wanted.
The first time I went out alone, without a supervisor, I cried a lot. I remember vividly... They put
me in a uniform, I was very skinny back then and they couldn't find my size, so the clothes were
about ten sizes too big. On top of that, I wore an apron and carried a big cart, called a "kaleta,"
stacked with everything I needed. I was pushing it around, crying as I went, thinking about my
mom...
My mother didn’t know what kind of hardship we were going through. We didn’t tell them. Back
then, we could only call home once a week for five minutes — we didn’t have money for calling
cards or anything. It was important just to hear each other’s voices once a week to know we were
alive and well. Of course, we didn’t mention the struggles we faced daily. We reassured them
that everything was fine.
I clearly remember standing there, having to knock on the first door, announce myself as
housekeeping, "Housekeeper!" and it took me a few minutes just to bring myself to do it. I was
crying so much, thinking, “Oh, Mother, if you could see me now… What am I doing here? I was
supposed to study, I had other plans, and now I’m a hotel housekeeper.” Not that I thought it
was shameful, but still, it wasn’t part of the plans I had for myself.
To this day, every time I stay at a hotel and we travel a lot for performances I try to leave the
room tidy and also leave some money behind for the housekeeping staff. I remember how it felt
when I earned $5.50 an hour and hoped that maybe, on top of my wage, someone would leave
a little extra tip, so I could afford something small and nice for myself. Now I always try to do that
for others, leave a neat room and a tip, so they can clean quickly and move on to the next room.
This
feeling
has
stayed
with
me
for
24
years.
As for overcoming it, I think our marriage helped a lot. We, Georgians, stuck together and
supported each other financially and emotionally. We helped each other find jobs. Later, we also
danced in a group and performed at restaurants for birthdays, New Year’s celebrations, holidays,
and weddings, which helped financially too.
Financial hardship is one thing, but the psychological pressure was another. However, our
togetherness made it easier to bear the emotional burden. It was very hard for those who had
left behind children or spouses. I was alone at first, and later when I got married, psychologically,
it wasn’t as hard for me as it might have been for others.
When you’re young, you handle hardships differently. If you’re older, with a family to support,
it’s
a
different
kind
of
weight.
So I think being together helped us manage psychologically.
Later, when I became pregnant, my father-in-law was with us and supported us financially until
he returned to Georgia three years later.
When my first child, Giorgi, was born, he became the child of the entire Georgian immigrant
community (smiles). Everyone would come to see him and pour their love into him the love and
warmth they missed from their own families. Giorgi was born like that he grew up as the "child
of emigration." Today he’s 22 years old, and he grew up before the eyes of the whole old
immigrant community. They all still love Giorgi dearly, and everyone who remembers his birth
keeps a photo of him at home. Even today, when I meet someone, they say, “I have a photo of
Giorgi at home!”
He grew up loved by the entire old Georgian immigrant community. It makes me very happy to
see him grown into a strong Georgian man, successful and professional in everything he does.
Interviewer:
Let's also touch a little on expectations. When you left Georgia, as you mentioned, you had
different expectations. How different was the reality you encountered here, and from today's
perspective, would you make the same decision again, based on the experience you have gained?
Respondent:
In short, the expectations were, as I mentioned, that we would dance and earn a salary from
concert performances. We were supposed to come for three months, and they promised us $100
per day. Just imagine, coming from a darkened Georgia, earning $100 a day, and saving a large
amount in three months to return back — that was one moment that didn’t come true.
Afterward, everything depended on us, what steps we would take. I could have gone back, and
my parents would have happily welcomed me, even if they might have accumulated some debt.
However, there was another side to it: I truly hadn't planned to start a family, but it happened,
and we did create a family. The expectation was that when our son Giorgi was born, we sent him
to Georgia at five months old, intending to return as soon as possible. However, a child born here
had the privilege of a passport, meaning he could return whenever we wanted.
I think we, as young people, made many mistakes back then. We didn't foresee that we would
have to stay here for so long. We didn’t hurry to legalize our status; we worked like every
immigrant. Young people tend to spend differently, thinking money will always be there, saving
nothing. Vano and I were unable to save anything and couldn’t return. Every single day began
with the desire to go back to Georgia, to buy something, to do something — but it never worked
out.
I don't know whether to blame it on our youth or on misusing time, but you could say we misused
time and didn’t foresee how long we'd have to stay. And once you start a family with children, it
becomes very, very hard to put something aside, especially when my husband had to change jobs
often.
In Georgian culture, someone always has something to say, so Georgians wouldn't easily endure
certain workplace environments. You leave one job, look for another, and so it goes. We never
stayed at one job long. In America, even one day without work sets you back a week.
In short, we couldn’t save, we couldn't go back. Giorgi was brought back again to live with us.
Over the years, more and more Georgian children appeared who no longer spoke Georgian to
each other. That was when my husband and I realized we had to do something.
We brought Giorgi back and thought: what do we do? We couldn't bear for our child to grow up
speaking only English and forgetting Georgian. That would have been a huge blow (ძალიან
დიდი
დარტყმა)
for
us.
Before we sent Giorgi back in 2001, we, Georgians, used to gather in an Orthodox Church. Father
Alexander was our priest then (and still is today), leading Georgian services wonderfully.
Back then, Georgian girls, seeing that I was an active dancer with a dance group, performing at
various events, asked me to teach them Georgian dance. There was no internet then, no Zoom
or Messenger; phone calls to Georgia were once a week at most. There was a huge longing for
Georgian
music
and
songs.
In 2001, in the church basement, I started teaching Georgian dance. Sundays became a
celebration for everyone, coming together, dancing to Georgian music. My husband played the
accordion, my friend played the drum (doli), and through that music, we eased our homesickness.
When I later saw that children were no longer speaking Georgian, and since we already had our
own child, the situation clearly demanded that we create something Georgian for them.
That's where the idea came from not because we had such expectations when we arrived in 1998.
Life
circumstances
showed
us
the
necessity.
Starting in 2003, we began gathering children. At first, I had only four students. I personally drove
them to rehearsals and back so as not to burden their parents, who all had busy schedules. I
made
sure
the
kids
didn’t
miss
rehearsals.
Since 2001, we have been serving the Georgian cause. Over time we grew, and now if someone
needs Georgian culture represented anywhere, we are We are not reluctant, we are ready to
travel
to
other
cities,
states,
or
even
Europe.
It's a blessing that our children also get to see other countries, cities, and states, and others see
what
Georgian
culture
is.
Even if we went to the Moon, if Georgians ever reached there, we would create our community
and
preserve
our
identity.
Indeed, the first generation of "Roots" (our organization) still speaks Georgian fluently, listens to
Georgian
music,
and
many
have
created
Georgian
families.
My son's generation, Giorgi's generation also speaks Georgian freely. We now have four children,
and all of them speak Georgian fluently, love participating in Georgian activities, and proudly
represent
our
culture
24/7.
We
take
pride
in
promoting
Georgian
culture
wherever
we
can.
We never imagined at the beginning that we could build such a large school. Initially, many
laughed at us, wondering why we were struggling and for whom , “who needs your Georgian
culture
here
in
America?”
But
we
shattered
that
belief.
Even my relatives and parents constantly said, "Come back, come back — the kids won't grow up
Georgian
here,
they'll
be
lost."
Everyone
cried
over
it.
But we proved that if you really want to, you can raise your children Georgian anywhere.
My children read, write, and speak Georgian fluently, thanks especially to Teacher Rusudan. We
sent two of our daughters to Georgia for two years to learn reading and writing, and now Mariam
and
Tekla
know
Georgian
perfectly
thanks
to
her.
We have a younger daughter, Sophie, six years old, who also studies with Teacher Rusudan.
Today, Mariam is 18 and works as a translator at a lawyer’s office — her English and Georgian
are
both
excellent,
as
are
many
other
children's.
Recently, a Turkish company approached us — they organize shows and were so impressed with
our children that they want them to continue participating in their events. Not only in Georgian
dances
but
also
teaching
others
different
dances.
Two weeks of rehearsals just finished, and they will come again in April and October.
Before they left, the manager (not a choreographer) said, “I don't know how you do it, but your
kids even speak Georgian to each other, ages 14–20. Among our Turkish community, kids hardly
speak
Turkish
anymore.”
What could be more rewarding than that? No money, no wealth could replace that pride.
This Georgian work (ქართული საქმე) my husband and I have dedicated our whole lives to it.
The greatest appreciation is that people recognize it, that these kids stayed Georgian.
We saved generations, promoted Georgian culture, and made a name for it everywhere we could.
Just two weeks ago, we had a performance in Atlanta, Georgia. Even today, the festival organizers
are still talking about our children, the dances, the costumes everything. What kind of
performance you staged they are sayng.
Interviewer:
Let’s dig deeper into that situation the Turkish businessman’s partner’s question. If we think
functionally, what exactly are you doing that others might not be doing to preserve Georgian
identity? One part is dance, another is learning the Georgian language, but maybe you have a
specific approach to teaching or communicating, an additional mechanis, that keeps
Georgianness alive in everyday practice. Let’s explore that more closely.
Respondent:
Generally, my husband and I demanded that at home, when the children spoke to each other,
they spoke in Georgian. We also asked their friends to do the same. You couldn’t set foot in our
home
without
speaking
Georgian.
When we sent Giorgi to Georgia for two years, he completed third and fourth grade there, people
there would ask him to teach them English, to speak English, and he would say, “No way, if my
dad finds out, he’ll scold me” (smiles). Even there, he continued speaking Georgian and wasn’t
afraid
of
forgetting
English
that's
one
thing.
Then there were the little kids. They used to call Vano (my husband) “Bua,”(scary man) and when
they saw him coming, they would quickly switch to Georgian, even if they had been speaking
English just moments before. They’d say, "Uncle Bua is coming, speak Georgian!" (smiles).
Those children — the ones who are now 18 years old and who were practically born into our
hands, growing up alongside our kids — have stayed with us from day one, and even as little
ones, they had this rule: when Vano was around, they spoke Georgian.
When they enter the dance hall today, they know — inside the hall, they must speak Georgian.
Of course, sometimes little moments slip by they start speaking English but as soon as I hear it,
I immediately intervene. I remind them: “This is a Georgian school. Where do you go? What’s the
name
of
your
school?
‘Roots.’”
Then we explain what “Roots” means. It's even written on our T-shirts in both Georgian and
English. They must know what school they attend and why it’s called “Roots” — that it’s about
preserving
their
heritage.
Because here in New York, especially, every school has a special day where children have to
present their national culture where they are from through costumes, food, whatever their
families
can
prepare.
Every moment in New York you hear, “Where are you from?” they must know how to answer.
Of course, there are families who honestly don't care whether their kids speak Georgian or
English. Beyond that, there’s also the natural challenge: children who grow up hearing two or
three languages can have delayed speech, and many specialists recommend focusing on English
only, at least until age three or four, to help the child develop language skills more easily.
I’m not talking about those cases where it’s medically necessary to focus on one language.
I'm talking about the families who simply don’t care what language their children speak.
Interviewer:
Roughly speaking, how many families genuinely don't care whether their kids speak Georgian,
and how many are actively trying to maintain Georgian language, lifestyle, identity?
Respondent:
Whoever comes to us to "Roots" — almost certainly values preserving Georgian identity.
Otherwise,
they
wouldn’t
end
up
here.
A parent wouldn’t bring their child to a Georgian environment, to a Georgian school, or even
consider it worthwhile to pay even a small fee for it, unless they cared.
How could I sustain such a big rehearsal hall or everything else without the parents' support?
If a parent didn’t care, they wouldn’t bother — they wouldn’t pay the fee, they wouldn’t come,
they wouldn’t sit and wait during rehearsals, they wouldn’t accompany us to performances.
Families like that, who are indifferent, tend to stay away from Georgian spaces and find
themselves involved elsewhere.
Interviewer:
When we talk about "Georgianness" itself, for you, as the head of such a large cultural center —
what do we mean by preserving Georgian identity? What does preserving Georgian identity mean
to you personally?
Respondent:
First and foremost, it’s about remembering where you come from, that's exactly why our cultural
center
is
called
“Roots.”
They must always remember who they are, where they come from, and what culture and country
they
represent.
We
always
emphasize
this
point.
Maybe there’s not always time during rehearsals, but when the children grow up a little, when
we take them on tours or trips, we hold lecture-like talks for them.
We explain what it means to be Georgian, what kind of history we have survived, how such a
small country made it through such difficult times without disappearing.
Even here in America, although they are Georgian-Americans, they must preserve their
Georgianness, because we truly have something to be proud of, something worth showing the
world.
It’s important to make it clear to everyone that we are not Russians we are Georgians, the
descendants
of
a
miraculous
small
nation.
These
kids
always
need
this
connection.
In schools, they work on projects, they organize celebrations, concerts and they complete these
projects with great pride, showing that their roots are in Georgia and that they are Georgians.
For me personally, I don’t even know how to fully express it, I am a very big patriot of my country,
and
so
is
my
husband.
Probably if we didn’t have this patriotism, we couldn’t have withstood everything we went
through.
We
faced
and
still
face
a
lot
of
pressure.
Thanks to God's help, our own hard work, and the support of parents, we have managed to
survive.
It
is
truly
a
miracle
that
“Roots”
has
lasted
for
22
years.
There were many moments when we felt like giving up, when we said, “That’s it, we can’t do this
anymore,”
but
with
God's
blessing,
we
are
still
here.
Even today, parents call me saying, "Shorena, please let the kids come back home, they have
school
tomorrow,
they
need
to
go
home."
The
children
have
each
other;
they
are
happy
to
be
together.
The first generation of our students still helps each other to this day — whether it's finding a job,
becoming godparents to each other’s children, or simply maintaining a close circle.
Generations
are
following
one
another
in
this
way.
Many parents met through “Roots” and are now relatives through marriage.
We do all this so that we don’t get lost, so that we don’t get mixed into other cultures, but rather
preserve
centers
like
this
that
maintain
Georgian
culture
abroad.
We Georgians are very nostalgic and patriotic — maybe even more so than we initially thought.
But honestly, seeing other nationalities Muslims, Arabs, Pakistanis they all try to preserve their
culture,
their
language,
their
religion.
They build their own churches and mosques and why shouldn't we, Georgians, do the same?
We have nothing to lose; on the contrary, we should make the world know who we are, where
we
come
from,
what
kind
of
heritage
we
carry.
We have exceptionally talented children, and I know they will achieve great things.
The "code" of being Georgian that we plant in them during childhood will later benefit Georgia
greatly.
I truly believe that these talented children will take important positions tomorrow and the day
after, and they must remember the roots we instilled in them so that even if they don’t directly
help Georgia, they will at least help the Georgian community abroad.
And if they do return and contribute to Georgia itself, then one of our biggest dreams will come
true and that’s also one of our main goals.
Interviewer:
Now, speaking of maintaining contact and communication with Georgia Mrs. Rusudan proudly
mentioned during her interview that during the 2015 flood in Tbilisi, you organized charity
concerts
and
helped
the
victims.
She also said that you frequently organize concerts in Georgia itself and continue the work you
do
here,
over
there
too.
Could
you
tell
us
a
bit
about
that?
Beyond your professional activities and taking children to Georgia, how would you describe your
communication
with
Georgia?
How
do
you
maintain
contact?
How does your communication with Georgia help your work and your daily life here?
What forms does that communication take?
Respondent:
I wouldn’t say that we are very engaged in everyday life communications with Georgia, in general,
we don’t like to bother people. Whatever we do, we carry a lot on our own shoulders, a lot of
our time, work hours, finances. I personally don’t like asking for help just because of who I am or
what I'm doing. If we have traveled, it's often been with our own resources. For example, in 2015,
when I traveled to Georgia, a few children came with us for the first time. They reunited with
their relatives, and the following year their parents were saying, laughing, “Shorena and Vano,
what are you doing to us? We can’t afford yearly trips to Georgia, but now the kids are begging
to go every year!”
Our communication with Georgia mainly starts with the families. The children absolutely love
being there. When they have not seen Georgia for a few years, parents or sometimes I manage
to take them. Their reaction is always the same: "Mom, why are we living in America cramped
into one or two rooms, when here we have such big houses and yards?" They don’t want to come
back, they want to stay there, especially at a young age when they can run free and roam
everywhere. In the U.S., their movement is very restricted, they have to stick close to their
parents or an adult until a certain age. Even my own four children grew up cramped into a small
space, so they always notice and question why we’re not living in Georgia with all that space.
As for 2015, when we traveled, our close friend Irina Khuchiaashvili helped us organize a concert
at the Rustaveli and Griboedov Theater. The Ministry of Culture, particularly Ms. Nina, also
supported us by waiving the rental fee. All proceeds from the concert went to families affected
by the devastating June 13 flood in Tbilisi, specifically to a priest’s family who lost their daughter,
Ivleta.
We frequently participate in charity concerts and explain to the children what charity means and
why it's important, so that when they grow up, achieve success, and have the financial means,
they’ll know to give back, not just money but also their time and effort. We teach them that no
matter where life takes them, they must remain charitable. When we came to Tbilisi, we showed
the children exactly how the concert proceeds were helping real families.
Originally, we had other plans, but when tragedy struck, the situation changed, and everyone
agreed the proceeds should go to charity.
Now, again, we’re planning another concert this summer, on July 9, 2023, at the Philharmonic
State Concert Hall in Tbilisi. This will be "Fesvebi's" (Roots') solo concert. We want the children
to perform in front of a Georgian audience, it's very important. Performing for Georgians is
completely different than performing for foreigners, the children prepare differently, feel
differently, and take it very seriously. We want the Georgian audience to see what we have built
far away from home, and we want our children to see the warm reception and encouragement
from Georgians, to show them that preserving Georgian culture and identity matters.
We hope this concert will also plant the idea in their hearts that one day they should return and
serve Georgia. This is our goal: to strengthen their Georgian identity and their bond with Georgia.
Regarding official connections, we reach out to the Ministry of Culture, Ministry of Foreign
Affairs, the Patriarchate, television channels, whoever we can, to make sure people know about
the concert. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs always allocates grants for diaspora ensembles and
schools. This year, for instance, we received two grants. One grant of 10,000 GEL was used
entirely for the children's costumes. Today, our older kids wear Adjarian costumes and black
chokhas (traditional Georgian coats) made from that grant. The other grant supported our solo
concert.
Of course, these grants don’t cover everything, but even a little support is a huge help. Still, I
often feel conflicted, should I even apply for grants? I sometimes feel that by accepting grants,
I’m taking resources away from children in Georgia. I know that's not entirely rational, but that's
how I feel. Many times I hesitated to apply, but friends kept encouraging me, “Shorena, apply! It
will help sew costumes; it will help the parents too.” Many parents have two or three children
like I do, and buying multiple sets of costumes is a burden. The grants help lighten that burden.
Even for me personally, it's a relief.
Nonetheless, deep down, it still aches, I always feel that maybe I'm depriving Georgian children
in
Georgia
of
something.
But overall, I’m incredibly grateful to our state for however much they can help Georgian schools
abroad. Their support is invaluable.
Interviewer:
When we look at the local Georgian community here, are there mechanisms of mutual
assistance? You mentioned earlier that the 25 members of your group used to support each
other. If we look at the current situation, what are the experiences now? How do Georgians help
each other? How do they support newcomers in overcoming the challenges of the initial period?
Are there any systemic mechanisms, or is it still more of an individual effort where everyone
seeks their own network to overcome the first challenges?
Respondent:
I'll tell you a bit about the reality now. There is this situation between the earlier immigrants and
the new arrivals (laughs). I'm personally quite closed off now. From September to July, we
basically don't have a life outside of work. I try not to get too involved, but if someone needs my
help, I’m here, and I help as much as I can. However, where there are Georgians, there is always
some negativity, but of course, a lot of positivity too. I will say this: when others from outside our
community look at us, they are always shocked, they wonder how Georgians manage to support
each other so strongly and how we've raised the level of culture so high, how we’ve raised
children so connected to their heritage. Many non-Georgians have told us they are surprised:
"How do you manage all this? Who helps you? How are you able to maintain such high
standards?" They are impressed by the quality, particularly when comparing Georgian schools
abroad to others.
As for relations among Georgians themselves: among the older and newer immigrants, there’s
always some tension. The older ones often say, "You new arrivals don't want to go through what
we went through. You refuse to accept low-paying jobs. You want everything quickly, things we
worked years for." And the new arrivals respond, "Why should we go through the same
hardships? Why do the older immigrants insist that we struggle just like they did?" (smiles). So
this kind of tug-of-war always exists between the older and newer immigrants.
But despite that, I will say that the new arrivals receive a lot of help from the earlier immigrants,
from those who have established themselves and are stable enough to offer even a little help. I
know many people around me who offer tremendous support. There are many Georgian
Facebook groups, countless ones, that try very hard to help new immigrants, even those who
haven't arrived yet. They are provided with information and support without even needing to
ask.
There are many groups, I don't like listing names because I’m afraid of leaving someone out, but
groups like "Millennium," "Us in America," "blessed deed (მადლიანი საქმე)","Super Moms,"
led by Ms. Mzia Tzulukidze, and many others. I always express my gratitude to them because
what they do requires nerves of steel, a lot of time, and deserves real appreciation: finding
housing, finding jobs, finding doctors, they are always ready to respond and assist.
I saw this especially during COVID. For example, under the leadership of Mr. Nika Chkheidze, a
crisis center was formed with many Georgians involved, including Ms. Ina. Doctors and volunteers
mobilized, and many were engaged. I personally transferred money a few times because I
couldn’t physically help, but others could, some helped with physical assistance, some with
financial aid. Tremendous support was provided during that time, food deliveries, transportation,
finding necessary supplies, not only in America but money was also being sent from here to Italy
and other countries where Georgians abroad were struggling.
So I can't say that Georgians don't help each other. Maybe there are one or two, maybe ten,
dissatisfied individuals who feel that an older immigrant didn’t help them, but overall, I can say
that 90–99% of the time, Georgian immigrants do receive assistance.
Interviewer:
If we compare the older generation of immigrants to the newer one, how similar are the
challenges they face? For example, issues like legal or illegal status, language proficiency, finding
a job, among these three components: language barriers, financial support, employment, and
obtaining legal status, how similar or different are they for the newer wave compared to the
older immigrants?
Respondent:
I believe that what the older generation of immigrants went through, the new generation simply
cannot experience, physically cannot, because today’s new immigrants have access to so much
information. They just won't go through what we went through. Of course, we had language
barriers, of course we were unemployed, of course many of us were undocumented, and I don't
even know how we managed back then. We would search for jobs through word of mouth and
over the phone. There were certain agents you could call to find work, and some of those agents
are
still
around
even
today
(smiles).
But back then, we were truly in an informational vacuum. Imagine arriving in 1998, there was no
internet, no mobile phones, no communication tools. The new arrivals can't experience that,
even if they tried, because today you don’t even have to ask questions, the answers are already
available. Thanks to phones, internet, and recorded resources, they have everything at their
fingertips.
Interviewer:
You mentioned moving to Philadelphia and spoke about two women who helped, if I remember
correctly, had they arrived before you?
Respondent:
Yes, they had arrived before us. This was in Florida. They were already there. One of our dancers
knew one of the women because she was her neighbor, so she had her phone number and knew
that Lia was there. So our dancer came prepared, knowing she could call her if needed (smiles).
And when the time came, after we needed certain documents, we called her. She said, "Come
on, girls, I have jobs for you." By then, she was already a supervisor.
Interviewer:
Do you remember approximately how long before you she had arrived?
Respondent:
Maybe about 1 to 2 years earlier, not more. During that period, immigration really surged, and
Georgia pretty much emptied out (laughs). So at most, she would have been there 1 to 2 years
before us.
Interviewer:
For the period we're talking about, most of the people we've interviewed so far arrived in 19971998, do you remember your travel route? Through which cities did you fly?
Respondent:
For us, it wasn’t difficult to get visas. We didn't have to stand in long lines for days and nights.
We went as a dance group, all dressed nicely, and got our visas very quickly.
As for the flight, if I remember correctly, it was Tbilisi to Moscow, we had to stay about 24 hours
in Moscow, maybe overnight and then from Moscow, we flew directly to New York.
This is actually a funny memory for me and Vano: I heard his voice for the first time during that
layover in Moscow. In Tbilisi, we hadn't really spoken before. I just overheard that he was
married, and for me, that was enough, I decided right then and there to keep my distance
(laughs).
In Moscow, there wasn’t much else to do, and someone told me, "He plays the panduri!" and
that's how Vano approached me. We spent that night singing songs together in the airport, and
then
we
flew
to
New
York.
Once in New York, the husband of our group leader, who had arrived earlier, was already there.
He had rented an apartment for us, took us there, and then our real hardships began. I think even
our leaders didn’t fully expect how things would turn out, it wasn't well organized.
Eventually, we all had to stay together, and honestly, deep down, I always had the idea that I
might stay here, but I didn’t tell my parents because if I had, they would never have let me leave
(laughs).
Interviewer:
Do you plan to return to Georgia someday, and if so, why do you intend to return?
Respondent:
Yes, it’s our dream. As I mentioned earlier, we made a mistake from the beginning by always
thinking we would eventually return, so we didn’t take care of our legal paperwork properly.
My husband returned to Georgia for the first time after 23 years, he hadn't been back for 23
years and even we wonder how we managed, how we endured, and how such a patriotic person
could
bear
it.
What helped him endure was the work we were doing, he was constantly involved in Georgian
causes, always surrounded by Georgian children, Georgian culture, Georgian activities and that
made it feel like he was still in Georgia even though we were physically in America.
Honestly, when you are among our community here, you feel like you are still in Georgia; you
don’t
really
feel
you
are
in
America.
Regarding returning, we are always "returning," even today, we are still "returning." We've been
in
this
process
for
25
years
now.
But, in reality, we haven't even been able to move from New York to another city, let alone back
to
Georgia.
It’s as if something keeps calling us back, the work we are devoted to, the Georgian cause (საქმე)
keeps
pulling
us
back
to
New
York,
tying
us
to
these
"roots."
And I can say honestly: I love these roots no less than my own children, because we have invested
so much time and energy into them, sometimes even more than into our own family.
There were many times when we said, "Let’s move somewhere else or leave," but then we’d
always ask ourselves, "But what about the roots? What about the roots?" (smiles)
We went through that process many times, we just couldn't leave the community and the
environment
we
built
here.
And this played a huge role in why we didn’t return earlier, why we missed the right time to go
back.
I always regret that, that we wasted so much time and didn’t take care of financial matters
properly.
The only property Vano and I own in Georgia is a single apartment we managed to buy in 2004. I
remember
it
well
and
my
mother-in-law
helped
make
that
happen.
Other than that, we’ve always thought, “Yes, we'll go back," but you need a solid foundation to
return, otherwise, you risk running back here again if things don’t work out.
We still haven’t created that solid base because all our finances and time have been consumed
by
the
"roots."
We didn’t have enough resources left to build something back home that would allow us to return
permanently.
But
to
this
day,
we
are
always
returning.
Now, we’re thinking , since our children are grown, if they are willing to move back too, and they
really do love Georgia (my daughters especially said they wanted to study there and continue
their
lives
there),
we’re
planning
to
move
as
well.
Once our children are settled and no longer need mom and dad’s daily support, Vano and I are
still
planning
to
go.
Vano dreams of living in his hometown, he is from Sno, near Kazbegi and we want to live there.
From there, we hope to help our children as much as we can and also give back to Georgia.
We want to share our life experience, we have enough to give real lectures on it especially Vano.
We want to help the youth in Georgia so they know what to expect if they choose to go abroad,
how to start, what to avoid, and so they don’t repeat the mistakes we made.
By the way, I always say that emigration is like military service, just as military service is important
for young men, I believe every young person should experience at least two years abroad.
It really changes your perspective: you appreciate your time differently, you value your homeland
more,
and
you
re-evaluate
everything.
It would be great if there were programs where young people could live abroad for two years,
endure the hardships without mommy and daddy, learn how to survive on their own, and then
come
back.
It
would
help
them
a
lot
in
life.
Experiencing emigration isn’t a bad thing, even just how time is structured abroad is different,
and you learn to manage your time better, to move quickly toward your goals.
I truly believe that two years abroad would be beneficial for young people, but I’m afraid that
once
they
leave,
they
might
not
come
back
(laughs).
Everyone should return, that’s important.
Interviewer:
Thank you very much for the interview.