Ainur Akhmedova, 12th Grade
LEPL Marneuli Municipality Village Zemo Sarali
“Your father was so happy when you were born that he held a Champaign celebration in the maternity hospital yard,” – my grandmother used to tell me… Grandma’s memory would fill me with pride and joy. I always believed that my father loved me very much and would do anything for my well-being. Those words of my grandmother made me feel like I was a much anticipated addition to this world. This also gave me a sense of responsibility that I, by learning and working, had an obligation to change the world for the better. I remember these words every day and, with each passing day, I am more and more certain that I need to do everything for my country’s future welfare. This includes finding the life partner who will not stand in my way, but will support me in improving the life of my people…
Today, we talked about women’s rights at the lesson of the Georgian Language. The teacher discussed a lot of examples of the girls whose rights were abused. We could not properly explain why parents would want to doom their children to a miserable life. We identified a few possible reasons: parents see themselves in their children and believe that whatever works for them, will work for their children; parents try to ensure a comfortable life for their children by, say, choosing a financially well-off son-in-law; parents think that what matters in life is having children and a stable, long-lasting family; parents believe happiness lies in money and a wealthy household. None of these options is acceptable to me. In my opinion, what matters most in life is to follow your dreams and realize your potential. Happiness for me is the imaginary world built on my dreams. The key mission of a human being is to make the life better than it used to be. To achieve this goal, I need knowledge and experience, and to gain knowledge and experience, I need to learn and work hard…
Today’s debates on women’s rights ended with the whole class and the teacher agreeing that parents love their children unconditionally so if a daughter sets her mind to it, she can persuade them to respect her choice, and they will eventually decide against having her marry prematurely. However, when I got home, I found out that we had visitors - a rich and influential family from the neighborhood had come to ask my parents for my hand in marriage. They are very wealthy while we are a regular family with only my father working and struggling to bring up my younger brother and sister, and me. That is why, they were certain that I wouldn’t turn down their proposal. They also pointed out that they wished to have a family member who could speak the official language of the country and that was the reason they had picked me for their son… The hardest part for me was that my father agreed with them. He claimed this marriage would be good for me. He tried to persuade me that I would be very happy, that I would live without any problems… He couldn’t possibly know what I feel, what I think is good for me, could he?! He does not listen to what I have to say. He does not realize that this would be good for them, but I would have to betray my childhood dreams and close the door to my future success. I cried all night. I could barely contain my anger. I decided to tell my father that if I was denied the right to education, I would kill myself.
I would never give up. I would not allow anyone to tread on my dreams.
I have never wanted not to be a girl but if I were a boy, I am certain that I would have to deal with much fewer challenges in my life.
Ani Tutisani, 12th Grade
LEPL Public School of Ozurgeti Municipality Laituri Settlement
When I was six, we lived in a red house. I had a neighbor who frequently beat his wife. At night we would hear shouting, sobbing, cursing, and in the morning we would keep on living, as if nothing had happened. The whole neighborhood pretended not to see or hear anything.
When I was ten, we moved to a black house. I had two neighbors, who frequently beat their wives. We could see that, but we still couldn’t hear anything.
At the age of thirteen, I believed that the dark blue bruises on the body of a girl in my class were caused by her clumsiness. This happens to the best of us – she might have tripped once, she might have tripped… ten times.
I was fifteen when I discovered the world was not the pink color and the rules of being a girl sometimes demanded more from us than we could possibly imagine.
I am seventeen now and I want every girl, every woman, to live the life that is bright and golden, like the Sun.
I was very young when I was introduced to the most courageous and crazy girl - Pippilotta. Beyond those long stockings there was something else that fascinated me - the way she claimed she was the sea so she did not belong to anyone. Even now, whenever the sinister thought that I’m not strong enough starts creeping into my head, I braid my hair and put on my long colorful stockings to drive the thought away. In fact, every girl has her own Pippi, fearless and powerful. But what would become of my Pippilotta, if she ever felt insecure and there was no-one around to see her or hear her out? Perhaps she would freeze just like seas sometimes do.
Why we choose to keep quiet:
Because it does not concern us. We can’t butt in someone else’s business. In the end, we will be the ones blamed for everything. The abused will not speak up, so what’s the point! No-one asks for our opinion! There are other people who can help. We have not seen anything, we have not heard anything. We are simply afraid but we don’t even know what we’re afraid of.
Why we should never keep quiet.
Because it concerns us! Violence does not differentiate between our and others’ business! Let it be our fault in the end; at least we will know that we have not allowed suffering and, in extreme cases, death of a friend, a neighbor, an acquaintance or, simply, a woman. She may not admit she is a victim but she will know she’s not alone. Maybe no-one is asking for our opinion, but we have to ask questions so that tomorrow other people ask questions on our behalf. There may be others who could help her but we can’t expect other people to assume our share of responsibility. Let us not delude ourselves – we saw and heard everything. We are simply afraid but we don’t even know what we’re afraid of. This fear is a very humane thing, quite understandable, but not justifiable.
The question you would have probably asked me if you were here now is: how can we fight against gender based violence?
Here’s my counter question: Do you think there are more abusers than the abused on earth?
Right, there’s more of us (us being the people who will not tolerate violence – we are the majority). Yet, the silence is complete and deafening.
We have to make noise.
For us, for others, for Pippi, so that she does not freeze.
I will turn eighteen soon and I want to live in a house the color of violet. I will call this house A Better World. There the violets will never be threatened by cold winds. In that house, I will write endlessly about those who can see and who can hear.
Tamar Turadze, 10th Grade
School: Ganatleba LLC
In spring, my whole family headed to the village. Dad said we had to plough the field to grow eco clean potatoes. I was very happy to hear that – I wouldn’t have to go to school for a week. What else could I ask for! Besides I was going to see Salome, my relative and friend from the village. She was turning 12 soon so I took great care not to forget the presents I had bought way ahead.
I was going to spend a whole week with her!
Sunday, our last day in the village:
Salo’s family starts bustling around from early morning. She gets up early, at eight a.m., and begins tidying up the whole place. She’s done by 11, just about the time my sister and I wake up.
We can hear Salome’s mother from the yard: Honey, fetch the flour and knead the dough! She obeys. Just then, her brother Sandro enters the living room. He has just got out of bed. He hurriedly gulps down food without even bothering to sit down and runs outside to meet his friends. They are going to the river. Salome’s eyes follow him sadly. I can tell she’d rather be outside… Then she looks down on her hands, a piece of dough stuck to one hand… She washes the hand and wipes it on her skirt and… off she goes to do other chores. Now she has to make cheese. I marvel at the fact that she can stick her hands in the hot liquid so quickly that they don’t burn.
Guests start to arrive by midday. Salome does not need to be reminded: she immediately hurries to the kitchen to make coffee. She puts cups on saucers delicately and serves the guests. Women are gossiping and drinking coffee. They don’t forget to praise Salome for being so capable, so skillful. She is going to make a good woman, they say. The family she marries into is going to prosper. Salome listens to them with her head bent down.
Suddenly, Sandro storms into the house, his face flushed with pleasure, beaming around. He’s hungry.
Salome is now cooking, from time to time glancing at a group of boys playing outside. The racket they make can be heard by the entire village.
Salome is finally done with chores. Her friends arrive. They have all completed their household duties and are ready to go down to the river to have fun.
They are heard by Salome’s grandmother who comes out and asks demands to know they are going. On hearing the answer, she declares that Salo has nothing to do outside at a time like this. “A girl going to the river is a disgrace! What will people say?! Now go back to your houses or I’ll tell everything to your parents!” – she snaps. Then she turns to Salome and orders her to chop wood.
I can’t restrain myself any longer. I tell her grandmother that it’s not right. Salome, encouraged by my support, tries to stand up to her, to tell her she too wants to have fun… but in the end she gives up because she knows only too well that reasoning with her family is pointless. They are simply not going to listen to her. So instead of going out, she starts to chop wood as instructed.
Right then, the gate doors open and Sandro rushes in. I haven’t even noticed him leaving. Grandmother welcomes him on the balcony, kissing him on the cheek and inviting him to delicious food. Salome can see and hear everything but she seems indifferent, she’s already used to it.
She goes into her room and slumps on her bed. I need to take a break and then study for school, she tells me.
Suddenly, I can hear my dad’s voice. He’s calling me to take my belongings down to the car. We are returning home.
With a pang, I realize that I have to go back to school tomorrow morning…
Hugging Salo tightly, I begin to tear up. I don’t let her see my face.
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