Yesterday I was asked if I didn't find Gori to be a terribly depressing place. I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. I was speaking with someone who doesn't know me very well and I didn't know how to succinctly explain how I see things. And how do I? With an eye to balance and harmony and completeness, mostly. At least that's how I try to look at my physical surroundings.
Gori was bombed in August of 2008. The entire population fled. Buildings were burned, flattened, damaged. Some of the schools I'm at haven't been wholly repaired. There are still physical remnants of the conflict. As I was speaking with one of my teachers today, our conversation turned to her experiences in Gori during that time. It really hit me that this event is in the very recent past. Not only is there still physical evidence of the bombs, but emotional wounds are still open.
Around town, I see buildings that have been abandoned; buildings in need of repair; buildings that have recently had work done. Without the stories of the people who live(d) in those buildings, my sense of balance and harmony is incomplete. But that doesn't mean I find Gori to be bleak or hopeless or dismal. As with Kosovo, there are endless experiences that deserve a voice. The more individual histories that are shared with me, the more complete my understanding of Gori will be.
2 comments:
You make me wonder whether inhabitants who have fled a city under attack have a different viewpoint than those who have fled a tsunami or radioactive incident. In either case, I hope that your inner harmony and hopefulness is infectious! Your pictures bring a much better understanding/empathy to me.
Do you think often about writing something more, such as a book? I haven't thought of the theme, or a "hook," that would grab other readers, but I wish there were more of your thoughts and observations available to me. Jay
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