A Night at the Patriot Camps

Three weeks ago, while sitting in the dark smoky room of Traffic Bar in Tbilisi, I had a conversation with an expat about something called Patriot Camps. The very name lit up many lights on my radar screen, and prompted further digging into the subject.

In 2004, the newly installed revolutionary government of Misha Saakashvili came up with a youth program designed to take kids off the streets and into camp sites where they would play sports, make friends, learn songs and dances from different parts of Georgia, and, well, play with guns. The program has been running for three years. This year, the government already opened a camp basically meters away from the border with the breakaway region in Abkhazia and intends to open the second one in Kodori, situated to the north of the aforementioned non-state and in an area reputed for its unstable security situation.

As you might imagine, it doesn’t take much of a stretch of imagination to concoct a conspiracy theory based on the above information. It may sound like this: Saakashvili takes kids to military training camps in border regions with Abkhazia, designed to indoctrinate them with a militaristic ideology; some of the largest camps are located just next to conflict zones, contributing to stirring up problems and exacerbating the negative image that Georgia has among the Abkhaz.

I spent the next two weeks or so bugging Revi about going to visit the camp in Kodori. The proximity to the Abkhaz black hole, the presence of the Abkhaz government in exile added to the appeal of the area. Revi’s response was always the same: the camp is not yet open, but it will open very soon. Of course, nobody knows what soon meant.

This Monday I officially gave up on the idea of visiting the Patriot Camps. However, I was trying to get an interview with the guy running them, who also happens to be the Deputy Minister of Culture. It turned out my man was visiting the Mecca of Euro-aspiring countries. The director of the Youth department was available though.

I got Revi and went to the Department of Youth and Sport, where I met a young (probably late 20’s), bright-eyed, jeans and fashion T-shirt-clad government official. After the interview, I asked whether I might be able to visit one of the Camps. A shot in the dark. Irakli obliged and invited me to join them the next day for a ride to the Camp at Bazaleti Lake, for the closing evening of a 10-day series of Patriots.

Before proceeding, I should probably tell you that I wasn’t able to find any trace of military training at the camp. While this makes the remainder of the story significantly less exciting, it confirms that the Government has discontinued this part of the program starting this year, partly as a response to Opposition protests.

The next day I met Irakli, his wife and two friends, got on board the Mercedes SUV (standard ride for Georgia’s middle-class or, as I like to call it, “the new Niva”) and proceeded to Bazaleti.

The camp is located right next to a lake, in a pristine landscape of hills, valleys, fresh air, blue sky, and ubiquitous mosquitoes. The camp is a fairly small enclosed area lined with bungalows. Facilities include an astro-turf football court, a basketball court, and an outdoor cafeteria.

My second take on the Patriot Camps turns out to be quite different from my initial conspiracy theory. Although I tried hard to find traces of ideology, indoctrination or a sinister political agenda, it appears that most of the activities are genuinely oriented toward providing low-income youth with a 10-day vacation, and allowing them to interact with people from different parts of Georgia. I meet a group of Armenians, another group of Azeris, none of which speak English (I am told some of them don’t speak Russian either), a young girl from Adjara with textbook-perfect English and some Georgians who are running the camp. It seems all the kids agree about having a great time at the camp and having made many friends. The girl from Adjara tells me she misses home, though. When I ask her if she made friends with any Armenians or Azeris, she smiles and averts her eyes. Ethnic prejudice seems to present (albeit in a muted form) even in the Patriot Camps.

All Patriots wear orange long-sleeved T-shirts (imported from Ukraine, maybe?) and blue overcoats. The Georgian flag is sown on the garments. It also adorns the back of the large podium, next to a map of Georgia divided into its composing regions. Next to the cafeteria I notice a large cross when It becomes lit by Christmas lights.

After dinner and a football game with some of the kids (my skills proved horrible, although I did manage a rather inspired assist), we sat down for the show that marked the end of the Camp for the 300 kids there. What I saw was a succession of traditional songs and dances from different parts of Georgia. I found out the Georgian national instrument is called Pandura. To me it looks a lot like the Greek bouzoukia. The kids are impressively talented, and the Georgian polyphonic songs sound like a mixture of Gregorian chants and Balkan rhythms, with a twist of Georgian je ne sais quoi. Well, nevermind that…

Two interesting moments of the show are when a Chechen girl from the upper Pankisi region of Georgia performs a traditional Chechen song accompanied by a guitar-like instrument. The first half of the lyrics is in Chechen, and the second in Georgian. The audience is extatic.

The second memorable moment was a short play interpreted by two youth, probably in their late teens or early twenties. One of them is lying on a bed and seems to be having a bad dream. He is a refugee from Abkhazia, and is dreaming of his friend’s mother being killed by the Abkhaz. His friend is hiding in a corner, but is discovered and shot himself. Follows a loud and emotional exchange between the two actors. Two rows behind me, I can hear somebody crying. I turn around and see a 12-year old in tears. She is from Abkhazia. On the stage, the two men embrace and shout: Abkhazia is Georgia, and Georgia is Abkhazia! End of act.