At dawn in 25th of December 1951, there was a knock at the door and windows, four men rushed into the room, two were armed. As I heard later two were from house manager’s office, one policeman and one soldier. My mother, Ketevan Kalandadze, was running around confusedly and packing her belongings. She supposed that the men came to arrest her as a wife of a shot man. A Russian soldier man read: "Gulnara Jgenti, Evgenia Klandadze, Grigol Kalandadze, Ketevan Kalandadze, Gulnazi Gorgiladze, Givi Gorgiladze – Who are these people?" "They are my children," answered mother, "what do they have to do with this?" The soldier then ordered us to get prepared to leave the house in an hour. They said tjeu would tell us later the reason of eviction – I know the story from mother and aunt. We even couldn’t manage to eat grandma’s Christmas pie. They took us in the street and put us in an open truck called “Gruzovik.” My 75 year old grandma with broken leg was placed in a cabin next to the driver. That night our uncle was not at home, but when he heard what happened he visited us at Navtlugi station. He had chance to escape but could not to leave the women alone – Who are these people? They are my children – answered mother,
What they have to do with this? - The soldier uttered
Then they ordered to get prepared and gave us an hour, we had to leave the house and they would tell us later the reason of eviction – I know the story from mother and aunt. We even couldn’t manage to eat grandma’s Christmas pie.
They took us in the street and put in an open truck called “Gruzovik” 75 year old grandma with broken leg was placed in a cabin next to the driver. That night our uncle was not at home, when he heard what happened, visited us at Navtlugi station , he had chance to escape but could not manage to leave women alone.
Sometimes the train stopped and they let us go to the toilet, first they were calling children, then women, men were standing with their backs to us, they were the last after we got on back the train. They used to shout “To the cabs” and the train continued its way. I don’t know where my aunt took a map from, all the time she was checking it. After several days of travel she suddenly shouted “we passed around Caspian sea, that means we are going to Kazakhstan, Kyzyl-Kum desert” That time Soviet Union had a priority to integrate and settle Kyzyl-Kum and Kara-Kym deserts.
Once, when we were at school, we heard about Stalin” death, many were crying but when I went home I saw everyone was celebrating, soon Beria also died though we were not free yet; Mom constantly was writing letters to Moscow. Kazakhstan was quite backward country; they were short in professionals in many fields that were many in our camp. All of them were writing letters and finally got positive answers.
My mom often traveled to Alma-Ata, though she did not have right to do this, somehow it happened that my aunt Tina Karumidze that was a restorer and working at the museum of art’s, was sent to Turkmenistan to restore a famous mosque. Mother too was sent there as a Chief Doctor, she was treating head of The Ministry of Interior (There were many consumptives then); at the end of the treatment he asked how he could pay for her job, Mother told the family story and asked to make a passport for me. This way I managed to go to Tashkent, later in December, 1954 the rest of the family joined us.
We were respecting each other, sharing everything we had with one another
Gulnara Gorgiladze was born in Tbilisi. She was still a kid when her father was arrested and shot as the enemy of the Soviet Union. Gulnara was fifteen when men in uniforms rushed into her home and declared that the whole family was sentenced exile. This included her mom, aunt, grandmother, uncle and brother. They were told that the reasons of exile they would be revealed to them later. After two weeks of travelling by train they arrived in The Kyzyl Kum desert. All Georgians helped each other and shared everything they had with one another. Gulnara was studying and working at the same time, trying to help her mother. The best years she spent in exile, in the desert. When she returned home in 1954 she was totally a different person.
Hrdinové 20. století odcházejí. Nesmíme zapomenout. Dokumentujeme a vyprávíme jejich příběhy. Záleží vám na odkazu minulých generací, na občanských postojích, demokracii a vzdělávání? Pomozte nám!