The Temi Community in Gremi, Georgia
In the eastern Kakheti region of Georgia, on the foothills of the Caucasus Mountains, live a community of 50 people who subsist off the land. In the day, they take turns working on the farm: tending the crops and vineyard, milking the cows and making wine. They practise only biological farming methods - traditional Georgian techniques dating back more than a thousand years. Guests, always welcome, are received with warm homemade bread, cheese and wine, and will be fed until they can eat no more. During the afternoons, having completed their lessons, the children gather in the living room. A woman from the village trained in a Soviet conservatory is at the piano and they sing as she plays old Russian songs. Across a wall in the kitchen, the women laugh as the men talk, over their evening meal, about their day in the fields. Soon, the day fades into twilight and sprightly bebo (grandmother) comes to put the children to bed as the rest of the women hum lullabies. The people, it seems, are happy here.
But this is no ordinary patch of organic paradise. Every single one of the residents here is what the trustees term 'socially disadvantaged'. Most are orphaned or have physical or mental disabilities. Others have come with their mothers who have had to leave their families either because of abuse or the lack of sufficient food to feed two extra mouths. Temi, as this place is called, is their home, and as the staff and residents constantly remind us, it is their family, too - for many, this is the only family they have ever known.
Temi was founded in 1989 by an architect, Nika Kvashali, so appalled by conditions he had witnessed in Soviet state-run institutions that he was moved to provide an alternative. He abandoned his life in the capital Tbilisi to put everything he owned into the Temi project. The collapse of the Soviet Union since has seen the disintegration of the limited infrastructure which had existed to provide for the under-privileged. Despite once having been one of the wealthiest republics in the Soviet Union, at least 50% of Georgian families now live below the poverty line. This failure to regain previous levels of material welfare has severely affected the capacity of the Georgian state to offer access to adequate healthcare and education. Today, Temi continues to offer the socially vulnerable the opportunity to lead active, fulfilling lives.
This summer, I had the privilege of being welcomed into the Temi home in the village of Gremi, the former seat of the ancient Kakhetian kings. The residents live in a large house surrounded by a plot of land on which a dairy herd, vegetable garden and vineyard are sited. There are also workshops in wood, metal and stone. Conditions are basic: the electricity supply is unstable, water is drawn from tanks in the yard and the nearest phone line is more an hour away in Telavi, the capital of Kakheti. The landscape, dominated by the majestic Caucasus Mountains, is magnificent; on a hill in the distance, like a castle in a fairy tale, is Gremi church. I would wake up every morning to the sight of the Church of Angels - some days bathed in sunshine and others shrouded in what seemed almost to be an enchanted mist.
I was made to feel a part of the family from the very beginning, sharing almost everything with the children. In the mornings, I would help them with their chores before their lessons; in the afternoons, I would play on the piano for them on days the pianist from the village did not come or when they clamoured for more after she had left. If the weather was fine, the evenings would be spent on excursions to nearby churches or monasteries, a particular treat for wheelchair-bound Dato and the more severely disabled older girls (>21 years) who needed strict supervision at all times. Meals were simple: pasta cooked in milk and oatmeal on most days, occasionally supplemented with vegetable soup. Tolma, a Georgian delicacy of minced pork and rice wrapped with cabbage, was served only on saints' feast days. On Edwati's birthday, we baked him a cobbler with fruit from the garden.
I was further drawn into the community in ways I had not foreseen, leaping to Dato's defence when the cheeky Petrae pounced on him, taunting him about the legs that dangled uselessly off his chair, crushed years ago when he had fallen as a toddler from a top-floor window. Yet I could hardly bring myself to admonish Petrae. He had never seen most of his family - his mother had run away from her husband because he had beaten her, and had arrived at Temi pregnant by another man. Then there is 16-year-old Tiko, whose unwillingness to care for her son 18-month-old son, Nikusha, is matched only by her obsession with her mobile phone. Tiko had been married off as soon as she had reached puberty, but like Petrae's mother, had been abused by her husband and had escaped at the first opportunity. Her parents were forced to her away again because they could not afford to feed her. We asked her daily to assume more responsibility for Nikusha's well-being, but her reply was always the same, "Why should I? I hate him because I hate his father." We would take turns cleaning and feeding Nikusha as Tiko disappeared to the next room to text or watch her Russian soaps. I learnt quickly to distinguish between the smell of unwashed child and faeces-soiled clothes which, in the heat of summer, were alarmingly similar. It was not until as I was leaving and complimented Tiko on how alike she and Nikusha looked that I finally saw her look at him with anything other than loathing - she picked him up and smiled at him with maternal pride.
It soon became apparent that the self-sufficient way of life at Temi was as much a necessity as an integral part of Nika's vision for the community. It is impossible to run Temi on the little it receives from the Georgian government. Producing food and furniture minimises costs, and the income generated from the sale of food products and handicrafts is critical to supplement donations from international organisations and generous individuals, particularly as Temi continues to grow. In addition, central to Temi's philosophy is a belief that each and every human being should be given all possible opportunities to live to their maximum potential. Protecting the environment is a natural extension of this respect for life - the two are as seen as inseparable. I was struck by the commitment of the staff to these principles. The occupational therapist, Susanna Reinhart is a Swiss citizen who works eight months of the year in Berlin, Germany. Every year, for the last ten years, she has spent her summers living in Temi unpaid, teaching herself Georgian so she can help the children with their lessons, rallying the Swiss and German governments to contribute to Temi's development. Moreover, residents are not defined by their disabilities and their associated limitations - the focus is instead on what each individual is capable of achieving and how we are able to facilitate that. I really should have been less surprised when I discovered some of the 'residents' were in fact the children of Temi's directors! This care without condescension and, most of all, love for the residents are what make Temi far more than an institution - Temi is a family, the realisation of Nika's dream.
I left Temi deeply humbled and inspired, having learnt that charity is not necessarily about producing tangible, visible change - it is tempting as an Oxonian to assume one can change the world merely with one's presence. Often it is about the little things: cleaning a child who has soiled himself, wiping up a toddler's vomit, and holding a mentally handicapped girl's hand, patiently listening as she tells you again and again how excited she is that her father will be here to visit her today even though you know he is dead and will never come.
This project would not have been possible without the assistance provided by the Muriel Radford Memorial Prize and the Graham Hamilton Travel Award. In particular, I am deeply indebted to the Governing Body and Junior Common Room of St. Edmund Hall for their unwavering support for my volunteer work over my three years at the Hall. The generosity of the college has made an enormous difference to the lives of many underprivileged children on three continents - Africa, Asia and Europe. I am proud to be able to call myself an Aularian.
Floreat Aula!
Xin-Hui Chan was a volunteer at the Temi Community in the summer of 2007. For more information, visit http://www.temi-community.org
