Azerbaijan

The Republic of Azerbaijan celebrates Republic Day on 28 May. Azerbaijan? That would be an amazing Scrabble score if it were allowed on the board. Also, it’s the largest country of the south Caucusus. There’s a small enclave belonging to Azerbaijan to the west of the main part of the country that is bordered by Armenia, Iran and Turkey. And several islands in the Caspian sea are also part of Azerbaijan—I’d never even thought of the Caspian sea having islands. It’s always good to have my ignorance exposed, especially when its offered an instant remedy. Azerbaijan declared independence from the then Soviet Union on 30 August 1991, the process of which was completed on 18 October that year. Republic Day celebrates the 1918 declaration of independence from the Transcaucasian Democratic Federative Republic—this marked the first sovereign state for Azerbaijan. Not up on your transcontinental facts? Capital: Baku. Language: Azerbaijani (also known as Azeri).

Though Azerbaijan only became a sovereign state (for the first time) in 1918, the region has been settled at least since the stone age, and South Caucasus has a long history. Alexander the Great anyone? In the 4th century CE the king of Caucasian Albania, as the region was then known, adopted Christianity as the official state religion, and it remained predominantly Christian until the Islamic conquest of the 8th century. The history following the Islamic conquest is a little confusing when put in a nutshell—shifting rulers, switches between Sunni and Shia Islam, wars, empire collapses, atabegs, dynasties, khanates. The frequent shifts of power, as well as the fact that the country was never a defined state until the twentieth century create a kaleidoscopic, somewhat dizzying tour of a history I don’t know well. (More ignorance to fill in.) Let’s say: after centuries of rule by southern powerhouses, the Persian Empire recognised Russian sovereignty over the region with the Treaty of Turkmenchay in 1828, following its defeat in the Russo-Persian War of 1826-1828.

Statehood in the early twentieth century was shortlived—in 1922 Azerbaijan, with Armenia and Georgia, became part of the Transcaucasian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic, and then in 1936, with the dissolution of the TSFSR, Azerbaijan became an Azerbaijan SSR, a constitutive member of the USSR. During World War II, Azerbaijan supplied the bulk of the Soviet Union’s oil—and the Germans launched Operation Edelweiss in an attempt to occupy the Caucasian oilfields. All attempts to capture Baku failed.

The current president, Ilham Aliyev, took over the family business of government from his father Heydar Aliyev who died in 2003—the 1990s saw a number of attempted coups. On the upside, Heydar Aliyev reduced the country’s unemployment, curbed the activities of criminal groups, established important institutions of independent statehood and brought in major foreign investment. On the downside—there was a great deal of corruption among the government. The same complaint has been levelled about Ilham Aliyev, who was previously his father’s Prime Minister.

Azerbaijan has some amazing wildlife. I like the long-eared hedgehogs and Eurasian lynx in particular.

Oh, and this year—look out. Azerbaijan is making its first appearance in Eurovision. Who doesn’t love Eurovision?

This Azeri poem is from the wonderful Language for a New Century. It’s by the poet Firuza Mammadli.



Leaning My Shoulder to the Sun

Leaning my shoulder to the sun,
my face to the shadow.
You are between me and my shadow.
We are talking about you.

Is that how you spare me my shadow?
You are standing between us.
You have forgotten though, my shadow
is on your face.

I am sewing a shirt for you
from the rays of the sun.
I am sewing a shirt for you.
You are standing between me and the sun,
your shadow is on the shirt I am sewing.
I am sewing a shirt for you,
on your shirt your shadow.
I am sewing the shadow to your shirt.

—Firuza Mammadli
translated from the Azeri by Shouleh Vatanabadi
from Language for a New Century

Georgia

A few years ago I got an invitation to help on an archaeological dig in Georgia. I wanted to go so much, but somehow or other I never went. It was in the region where Jason (or Argonauts fame) went searching for the Golden Fleece. The Caucasus is one of the regions that seems magical in my mind—especially as its transcontinental. Transitional spaces are delightfully slippery. The most beautiful account I have read of Georgia is in Kapuscinski’s Imperium—in fact, his writings on all the former SSRs are extraordinary. Particularly lovely is his account of the production of cognac in Georgia. (Yes, I know it’s not actually cognac unless it comes from the Cognac region of France.) Interestingly, Georgia was the second state to adopt Christianity as the official state religion—way back in 337 CE. (Neighbouring Armenia was the first.) There is still a dispute about where the name “Georgia” comes from—whether its linked to Greek and Latin roots, comes from Persian names for the inhabitants of the region, or comes from St George—apparently a popular figure in Georgia. (Sir John Mandeville, always a tiptop source, if not always a strictly reliable one, votes for the latter.)

26 May is Georgia’s Independence Day—it celebrated the creation of the Democratic Republic of Georgia in 1918, not its independence from the Soviet Union, which was declared on 9 April 1991, and finalised on Christmas Day.

Placed as it is between Christian and Islamic cultures, Georgia experienced an early Renaissance—around 12-13th century. This Renaissance produced great cathedrals, poetry and literature. The latter includes the epic poem “The Knight in the Panther’s Skin,” the title of which has got me entirely sold. I want to read it. Then there was a pesky invasion by the Mongols in the 13th century, which, followed by several other invasions by Persians and Turks over the next several centuries, slowed this up considerably. The country broke up into several small kingdoms, and in the 18th century the Russians annexed what was left.

Then 1918 brought the independence of Georgia—for a few years, at least. In 1921 the country was invaded by the Bolsheviks, and became part of the USSR in 1922. Following the restoration of independence in 1991, civil war arose. 2003 brought the “Rose Revolution,” in which Georgia got rid of its corrupt President, Eduard Shevardnadze—when he announced his resignation after allegations of ballot fraud, more than 100,000 gathered in the streets of Tbilisi. Fireworks ensued. And who doesn’t love a good bout of fireworks?

Georgia’s territory isn’t a settled matter—there are a few breakaway areas, including autonomous regions Abkhazia and Ajaria, which both see themselves as sovereign, as well as South Ossetia, which has in part been an de facto independence region since the 90s. In Abkhazia they speak Abkhaz and Russian, and in South Ossetian they speak the Ossetian language. Ajarians speak Georgian.

Georgia is famous for its religious iconography. I read—probably in Kapuscinski—that when Armenian’s were forced out of Armenia, they saved the books. In Georgia, they saved the art.

Today’s poem is by Galakt’ion T’abidze
. I noticed that the recent anthology of Asian poetries from Norton (Language for a New Century) includes poems from the other Caucasian nations, but not Georgia. I wondered if it would be difficult to find work in translation—but it proved not to be. I found a number of things online, and selected “Sun of haying-month.” I found the poem here.



mzeo tibatvisa (Sun of haying-month)


mzeo tibatvisa, mzeo tibatvisa

locvad muxlmoq’rili graals ševedrebi.

igi, vinc miq’varda didi siq’varulit,

prtebit daipare — amas gevedrebi.



t’anjva-gansacdelši tvalni miuriden.

suli mouvline isev šenmieri,

dila gautene isev ciuridan,

suli umank’ota miec švenieri.

xanma undobarma, gza rom šeeɣeba,

uxvad moit’ana sisxli da cxedrebi,

mdzapri kart’exili mas nu šeexeba,

mzeo tibatvisa, amas gevedrebi.



Sun of haying-month, sun of haying-month,

I kneel deep in prayer, like a grail knight here.

That one whom I loved deeply, with great love,

Shelter in your wings. This I pray of you.



Mishap, suffering comes — turn your eyes from her.

Touch her soul instead — make her strong again.

Morning bring to her light from heaven again.

Give her soul repose, blessed unspottedness.

When in troubled times she must walk a path

Red with dead men’s gore, history’s victim’s blood,

May she be untouched by the whirlwind’s force.

Sun of haying-month, this I pray of you.

—Galakt’ion T’abidze

translated from Georgian by Kevin Tuite