My host mom just forcefully dropped Giorgi’s loaded backpack on his head. He is bawling like, well, a baby. He’s only 8. Not sure what precipitated this event. I would say things have been building over the last few days. Lots of small screaming-crying altercations with him lately. Nestani would seem to have reached her limit. I was impressed at her response. Classic flying-off-the-handle. That backpack was dropped with real intent. I think she would have done it again it she could have.
Giorgi wept loudly for five minutes. His heartfelt cries apparently attracted the sympathy of grandma Neli. Grandma is trying to get him to calm down. Mom is still mad. They are shouting at each other, Neli from the den, Nestani from the kitchen. Georgians truly arguing, not just discussing things in their usual passionate way, is quite an experience.
Obviously I don’t know all the details, but I suspect Neli is critiquing Nestani’s handling of the situation. A possible reason why Americans do not generally have their parents live with them once married? Grandpa Vakho is getting involved now. Mostly, I think, because all this shouting is interrupting his TV watching.
The girls walk through the room seemingly unconcerned. I type away nonchalantly in the corner. Don’t notice me. Just the guest. The TV plays on.
Giorgi stops crying. He goes and sits with grandma. I’m glad someone still has patience with him.
And where is daddy Beso this whole time? Oh, he’s in the kitchen, eating. Probably knows to keep his head down when the ladies get into it.
Things are back to normal. Neli is spinning thread. Nestani is washing dishes. The men are watching TV. Ah. Another quiet evening with the Georgians.