18 images Created 29 Apr 2010
The Gun-Metal Skies of Georgia
When the Soviet Union dissolved in 1991, Georgia suffered a severe economic downturn which has left over half the population unemployed. When I visited the country on an assignment for a Swiss NGO in 2010, I found it in a state of melancholy. It was not long after the war. The economy was still low and unemployment a big problem.
In Mirashkani, a remote village where I stayed almost for two weeks during my assignment, people were really struggling to survive. Even small kids had to work after school to help their parents to bring some food on the table. Economically, the country was in a very difficult state. Depression seemed to have oozed across the country like an epidemic. Some old parts of Tbilisi, the capital reminded me of Havana – the buildings crumbling because there was simply no money to restore them. At a first glance it was clear that the city has seen better days.
I traveled across the country by car. Close to the Armenian border, we passed big, empty areas – ruins of collective farms (called ‘kolkhoz’ in Russian). Along the way, I witnessed villages like Gorelovka, abandoned by most of the young people who were looking for a better life somewhere else. Beyond the car windows, the landscape was wet and grey, all gun-metal skies and skeletal trees, and the people we passed by on our way were often sitting round waiting, perhaps for a light to pierce the clouds and offer some long-awaited miracle.
Year: 2010
In Mirashkani, a remote village where I stayed almost for two weeks during my assignment, people were really struggling to survive. Even small kids had to work after school to help their parents to bring some food on the table. Economically, the country was in a very difficult state. Depression seemed to have oozed across the country like an epidemic. Some old parts of Tbilisi, the capital reminded me of Havana – the buildings crumbling because there was simply no money to restore them. At a first glance it was clear that the city has seen better days.
I traveled across the country by car. Close to the Armenian border, we passed big, empty areas – ruins of collective farms (called ‘kolkhoz’ in Russian). Along the way, I witnessed villages like Gorelovka, abandoned by most of the young people who were looking for a better life somewhere else. Beyond the car windows, the landscape was wet and grey, all gun-metal skies and skeletal trees, and the people we passed by on our way were often sitting round waiting, perhaps for a light to pierce the clouds and offer some long-awaited miracle.
Year: 2010
