Big Fat Easter Post

It took me three hours to get back to my house once I arrived in my village after my week off. Why? My neighbors practically attacked me on the short dirt road to my house. I was hugged, kissed, and fed to no end, although at each  house I kept saying “I can only stay for a moment, I have to go home!” When I finally made it to my front gate, my host brother and I literally ran at one another screaming and then jumped into each other’s arms. If we had kissed each other’s cheeks any more, I’m pretty sure our faces would have fallen off. It’s good to be home.

I purposefully came home early so that I could be in Georgia for Orthodox Easter. It really begins on Good Friday (Red Friday, in Georgia) with egg-dying (which I missed). Eggs are only dyed red, no other colors allowed or considered, and cannot be broken and eaten until Easter Sunday. On Saturday night we went to the Easter Vigil service at the Orthodox church in my village --- There were so many people that not even half of us could fit inside the building. Service began at 11pm and went on until after 1am, all the while we chanted “Kristi Aghzdga” (Christ is Risen) and responded with a much longer version that is too hard for me to remember, but means “He is truly Risen.”

 

Easter Sunday was celebrated with lots of dancing, eating, and drinking which began early in the day. I was woken up at 9am by my host mother and brother saying “Kristi Aghzdga” and handing me an egg, which I had to use to try and break the shell of another egg. We did this many times throughout the day, and if an egg went through many matches without being broken it was a “Magarii Khvertsi” (good egg) and most often stolen by my brother Koka. He also had a trick egg that was actually made of wood, and he managed to break my Magarii Khvertsi before I realized his tom-foolery. At 9am we packed up some food, wine, eggs, and Paska (special Easter cake/bread that looks pretty but I’m not especially fond of) and went to the cemetery. It is Georgian tradition to gather in the cemetery near the graves of relatives and friends, drink to their memory, and pour them a little wine as well --- It was literally poured onto their graves so that they could celebrate as well. Later on we went back home where we had another feast, much more wine, and therefore much more dancing.

The next day, Easter Monday, I was again woken up early by the sound of Georgian music and laughter from my family. Breakfast was Easter cake and Easter eggs, and although we had plans to visit my host mother’s parents in town, the weather was too beautiful to be bothered about going anywhere. We sat outside all day, kept on dancing, and then decided to fire up the Toneh: A traditional Georgian oven, basically a cylinder of 10-inch-thick cement. It is heated by a fire in the center, and once the fire burns down the coals are covered by bricks to keep everything toasty. Then globs of sticky bread dough are pasted onto the sides of the oven, fighting gravity as they are baked on both sides from the hot cement wall of the Toneh and the brick-covered coals in the center. I got to make one myself, and I’m proud to say it looked better than my host mother’s attempt (we’re both amateurs --- my host dad’s cousin is the pro). When they were done we had a feast of hot bread (called Lavash or Shoti’s Purri), fresh onions and herbs from our garden, and home-made Georgian cheese. Commence more wine-drinking and Georgian dancing.

Little did I know, Easter is a continuous thing here in Georgia, and a week later was "Old Easter." My neighbors and I made a special cake called "Pakhlava" (not to be confused with Baklava, which is totally different but equally delicious). The next day was the Easter Pageant at school, which meant lots of decorating, long rehearsals, and a beautiful performance pulled off by some of my students. Here are a group of my 2-5th graders:

After the pageant was the Supra: My host mother is very proud of this one. She organized the whole thing, we had TONS (probably literally) of food, I heard several different songs all entitled "Sakartvelo" ("Georgia") and we partied in the school until late at night. There were many toasts made from a severed soda bottle since there were no rams horns available, I showed off my Georgian speaking and dancing skills, and I met a Canadian and his Georgian wife who were visiting their family in the village for Easter. Hurray for English speaking!

Til next time,

Sarah