The "Drug Wars" (5)- Tbilisi, Republic of Georgia- 1995

"Raise your glass, Fousesquawk"


One of the most interesting countries I had the chance to visit during my tour of duty in DEA's International Training Division was the former Soviet Republic of Georgia. When it was deterimed that our team (There were 3 teams in DEA's International Training Section)was scheduled to conduct a school in Georgia, some of our members were reluctant to go since Georgia was experiencing political unrest and was considered a dangerous place to be. One American Embassy official had recently been shot and killed, there was an insurgency on-going, and the country was considered an all-around danger zone. The only two people who had no problem going were myself and my boss. So we went alone to do the school.

First we flew to Paris, where we had to catch a connecting flight to Prague and on to Tbilisi, the capital of Georgia. At the airport in Prague, we had to spend an hour in the terminal before they put on a bus to our Georgian Airlines flight. As we rolled up to the plane, I noticed that it was a Czech Airlines aircraft. Boarding the steps, I asked the flight crew at the door if this was the flight to Georgia. They answered in the affirmative. Once on board, I asked the stewardess the same question and recieved the same answer. A couple of minutes later, my suspicions were confirmed. Wrong plane. Back onto the bus and on to another plane-this time, Georgian Airlines.

After the break-up of the USSR, the newly-independent republics received many of the old Aeroflot planes which they painted over with the new airline name. They also were plagued with an inordinate amount of crashes. En route to Tbilisi, I got up and took a walk to the back of the plane. To do that, I had to actually open and go through a door into what was in, effect, a separate room. Seated in that "room" were folks I took to be Georgians or Russians, watching some sort of movie or film with blank expressions. The film appeared to be some sort of newsreel showing tractors being driven out of a factory (no doubt by heroic factory workers).

We arrived in Tbilisi at about 11pm. The airport was completely blacked out (except for landing lights-I guess). There we were met by our two principal police counterparts, a police colonel and his adjutant, Vladimir, who was carrying a sub-machine gun slung over his shoulder and under his jacket. (The entire two weeks we were in Tbilisi, that sub-machine gun never left Vladimir's shoulder.)

From the airport, we were taken to our hotel, an Austrian-run establishment that was the only decent hotel in town. Actually, it had been placed off-limits to American government travelers by the embassy on the grounds that it was infested with the local mafia. (Few large hotels in the former Soviet empire were free of this problem.) We insisted on staying there because it was the only place suitable to have the seminar, and there was absolutely no other place in town fit to stay in. As we entered the lobby, we had to pass through a metal detector. There was a sign at the door advising folks to check their weapons. Of course, seated around the lobby were rough-looking guys in leather jackets. They were the hotel "security", that is local mafia types protecting the hotel from-themselves.

The following evening, our two counterparts took us to a local Georgian retaurant for a typical meal-referred to as a "Georgian table". We were shown to a private room, where numerous small plates of food had already been set out on tables. In addition, wine was served, as it is the national drink. Since Georgians, like many of the other former Soviet nationalities, drink a lot, the wine was served in pitchers. Actually, I had been looking forward to trying the Georgian cuisine since it was regarded as quite exotic and spicy in the Soviet world.

It was horrible. It was so bad, I had trouble getting it down, and the wine wasn't working. I figured vodka would help get it down, so I dropped a couple of hints to Vladimir that some vodka would be nice. Finally, Vlad caught on, and, quite impressed, ordered a bottle. When it arrived, I noted that it was Bulgarian vodka. Earlier in the day, while visiting the embassy, we saw an alert that Bulgarian vodka should be avoided since some people had recently died from drinking it. There was a picture of the suspect brand, and sure enough, it was the same stuff that we were being served. I figured the vodka and the food would offset each other and proceeded to drink it. (I am still here.)

In the last few days before closing ceremonies, one of our DEA colleagues from Ankara (which had responsibility for Georgia) flew in to attend the graduation. Vlad took me to the airport to pick him up. While we were waiting for the flight, Vlad engaged me in a conversation about the US. He brought up the subject of black-white relations, and proceeded to tell me that it was his opinion that blacks and whites in the US all hated each other. As an illustration, he told me of watching a "Diehard" movie with Bruce Willis and Danny Glover. According to Vlad, Hollywood movies were all nonsense, portraying a white guy crying when his black friend gets killed (or vis-versa).

"Please don't die", he panned.

Then the plane arrived, my black DEA colleague got off, and Vlad stood there with his mouth agape watching us hug and shake hands.

Later, Vlad said to me, "You never told me."

"You never asked", I replied.

At the conclusion of the seminar, the American ambassador attended, gave a short speech and presented the diplomas to the students. Since he was in a hurry to be someplace else, he kept checking his watch and reminding us he was running late. Finally, halfway through the diploma presentations, the ambassador handed me the remaining diplomas and said he had to go. Goodbye. The remaining students had the great honor of receiving their diplomas from me.

But the highlight of the visit to Georgia was on the weekend when the police took us to Gori, a small town about an hour away from Tbilisi. I mention at this juncture that Georgia was homeland of none other than Josef Stalin, who was born Josef Vissarionovich Djugashvili in Gori. While Stalin has been mostly discredited in Soviet history, his image still remains somewhat positive in Georgia. Stalin was the Georgia boy who "made good". His image still appears in certain places. In Gori, the tiny house where he was born has been preserved and turned into a memorial. A pavilian has been built over the house. Next to it is the Stalin museum and his private railroad car. We were given a tour of all these places, followed by a tour of the city by the Gori police chief. A statue of Stalin still stood in the main square.

After the tour, the chief hosted a lunch for us in the local In-Tourist Hotel restaurant. Along with the meal, we were served pitchers of Stalin's favorite Georgian wine. It was a long affair, and the drinking started taking its toll. Finally, the chief rose and gave a speech. At the conclusion of his talk, he invoked the name of Stalin, saying, "So, let us drink a toast to Stalin. If he made mistakes, he still did many great things for Georgia."

As I was sliding under the table, I looked around, saw all the Georgians had their glasses raised, and raised my own.

And may God forgive me.