my and his story

Kato Kiknadze (Born in 1925)
Interviewed by Mariam Sekhniashvili in the village of Gulgula, Telavi District, in 2004
photo by Gala Petri

I was born in the village of Gulgula, to the Kiknadze family.We had an old house.I am an ancient and long-suffering woman.I’ve worked all over the place.I built half of this apartment on my own.My brother used to work as the director of a collective farm.He too helped me and attached some of the rooms downstairs to the old structure.One half of the house is my brother’s, while two rooms upstairs, the wine cellar and one room downstairs belong to me.

I spent my childhood here, up until the fourth grade.Starting from the fourth grade, I attended the Fourth School in Telavi [the administrative center of the Kakheti Region, Eastern Georgia]. KetoPetriashvili was the school principal at that time.I graduated from a middle school in Telavi.Then I continued my education in a school for paramedics from which I graduated on June 15, 1941.On June 21, the war broke out.I had graduated ten days earlier and I was sixteen, a wild child, as they say, chasing my own shadow, the shadow that follows you everywhere you go.I was so scared of my own shadow. I fled as it chased me.
To make it short, I graduated from the school for paramedics on June 15, 1941.On June 21, the war was declared, and on June 22, I was summoned and registered by the military commissariat.We didn’t know what was going on.No one would reveal military secrets.I know it now but I had no idea back then, being a wild child.I had no clue where I was supposed to go. We were given [in Russian] excerpts from our records and sacks, similar to those that soldiers had.The sack was empty.We were supposed to fill it up with provisions to last us three days.We were supposed to take food to our detachment and make it last us as long as we could.I stood among a group of a hundred people, while the commander read out our names, summoning and presenting us with our record excerpts, and also telling us to which military detachments we belonged.
We were drafted on June 22.On June 23, chaos and disorder took over the place.We went to Kharkov [a city in Ukraine] at first.To be honest with you, I met with my cousin in Kharkov.He was the head doctor of the local district hospital.He noticed us, my friend, Tamar Chikvaidze, and me.He loved us both.Tamar and I were good friends; both of us participated in World War II.She lives in Tzinandali[a village in Kakheti, Eastern Georgia] today.My cousin sat us down and asked, “Where do you think you’re going?Are you insane?Follow me right away!”He took us back to Telavi, to the military hospital, and told us to stay put, “I’ll take you with me wherever I’ll go.”
When the war broke out, no one was admitted into the hospital at first, though we had everything ready to receive wounded people.We had all beds made and ready.This building is still there, though it no longer serves as a hospital.It housed an institute at first and then a museum.
Our first patients were Germans.Their aircrafts were taken down in the mountains of Caucasus.One German had his right leg severed from the knee down.He was a pilot.He must have been like nineteen-twenty.Another German’s leg was severed from below the knee.I cannot say I knew everything, and I was most curious about what the Germans were like.
We thought that the Germans were bad because they fought against us.I entered their room to find four young men that would make anyone’s heart sink.They too were human beings born to human parents.They were so well mannered and intelligent.They didn’t know our language and we theirs.I don’t know what their names were, child, German names are so hard to memorize.Hans is the name of my friend whom I met at the hospital.We’re still friends.We speak on the phone.My daughter speaks German, so she translates for me whenever I need to tell him something.
We were interested in the Germans.Those four wounded Germans were put in two hospital rooms, two in each room.These rooms were interconnected.After ten o’clock, people started flocking to see the Germans.Everyone in Telavi, every person holding an office, was curious to see what they looked like.We weren’t the only ones.Mainly representatives of national security agencies and militia came to see and interrogate them at night.We were wild enough to come stare at them, but these decent people… The Germans were so furious… People just waltzed into their rooms… They were like, “Is this a circus or something?Do we look like monkeys to you?”They were proud young men.They would cover themselves with blankets, not even showing their faces.
I was assigned to their rooms as a nurse.I was entitled to enter their rooms and do my business whenever I please.We had [in Russian] interpreters, teachers, who translated from German.That’s how we communicated.They wouldn’t touch our food.To be honest, we rarely had white bread.We mainly ate rye bread.We did have a lot borsch though.When we served them borsch, they replied [in Russian], “Dogs eat that in our parts.”They had chocolate bars in their pockets.I wonder how they managed to keep them after being frisked.German aircraft crews were rumored to sustain themselves on chocolate bars when flying.They still had four chocolate bars each after having been searched.They ate that chocolate for four days.They refused to accept anything else, even water, saying that they would rather die than live like that.They refused to eat because they wanted to die, thinking that nothing good awaited them there.Later, one beautiful day, at two in the afternoon, they were transferred to Tbilisi.
I don’t remember what year it was.Trains kept arriving one by one… I cannot even describe how many peoplelike our wounded Georgians we received.They had long beards that they had grown while fighting in the war.They were full of fleas, child, and these fleas followed them everywhere like a chain on a pig’s neck.Fleas were so many that they crawled over one another.We had a barbershop at the hospital.There were a hundred people in the barbershop.We led the wounded into the bath, washing them and treating their wounds.Professor Antelava and Professor Bughadze arrived from Tbilisi.I was formally assigned to them to work on organizational issues.Lena from Akhaltsikhe, KetoChibalashvili and I worked on surgeries.We had a multitude of patients.Then our soldiers were discharged from our hospital three weeks later, and it became a hospital for captives.Trains packed with Germans arrived.Don’t even ask me!Legions of captives… They were too many.
We went to the station one time to help patients disembark, and we ended up in a car accident.My thigh was nearly severed, barely hanging on my buttock.I spent three months with my leg in a cast.I was placed in our hospital [shows her wound].I was prohibited to have children.I’m missing a hipbone and half a buttock.That’s what makes me angry.So many people receive support from the state, while I who have been through so much am neglected.
Captives were brought to the hospital one time, all Germans.I remember how two Germans freaked out at the hospital entrance.We had a barbwire, and the captives and we were supposed to be separated by it.The captives called one of the doctors, grabbed him and threatened to strangle him.Nurses rushed to his aid.I don’t remember if it was Keto or Tamar.It’s been fifty years.Ramishvili, the head of the police, yelled, “Nurse! Hurry up!”This doctor rushed outside and the patient followed him, intending to catch, strangle and kill him.Ramishvili fired from the balcony and killed the German.He may have killed him on purpose, to intimidate other captives, so they wouldn’t do the same.After that incident, we never went anywhere without being escorted by police.
One way or another, we treated the wounds of these captives.There was no room left for them.We received thousands of people, all Germans.Our hospital rooms were very small.At first, we put one soldier per bed.Then we put beds together, placed mattresses over them widthwise, sewed the mattress hems together, and put eight people on two mattresses.They were given two pillows, so they used them alternately.We worked like soldiers, not like doctors.We worked day and night, tirelessly.That’s how we took care of the Germans before they were transferred to Tbilisi.
I mentioned my German friend.I met with him here in the hospital.This is how it happened, child.There are many good people out there.There are many good people and there are many bad people.There were young men, students in the hospital who spoke more or less good Russian.I didn’t know their language and they didn’t know mine, yet I was supposed to get their names, measure their temperature, ask them how they felt, and tell them what medication they were to take.We selected leaders in each hospital room, young patients who served as our right-hand people.We didn’t care if they were captives as long as they spoke Russian.
That friend of mine whom I mentioned was my captive, my patient, and hospitalized in my room, the room assigned to me.I would grab medications, put them on a cart, roll into a hospital room and have this captive accompany me.I would pick a medication, pronounce the name of a given patient, and he would repeat the name in German.Then I would have him give medication to the others, and then we would go to the next room, and then another room, and so on.We were assigned to our own particular rooms.That’s how it worked.
His name was Hans.He was my age, like seventeen or eighteen, not older than that.Then he was transferred to the recovery department.Those who were about to recover were selected and taken to work at construction sites.The Germans have built so much, both here in Telavi and Tbilisi… I’m tired…
This German came here recently, planning to take me with him.I didn’t go.I cannot afford to go there, child, and buy if I came to like something.What was I supposed to do?Tell him I didn’t have any money?
I was no longer friends with that German![Appalled]I was scared of the Germans!I don’t know why… The little boys made fun of me, “Kato’s boyfriend’s here.” [Laughs]The boys, my fellow villagers, were unbearable.I was very close with little children.They’re big boys now.When they learned that Hans had arrived, they asked me, “Aunt Kato!Aunt Kato!Please invite us over.”“Kato’s boyfriend is coming.”
It’s surprising that I retained my friendship with him, and so did he…We severed all ties.I didn’t know his name or last name.All I knew was that I had a German, my right-hand man, who helped me in every way whenever I needed him.After he left the hospital, he went to works on construction in Tbilisi where he became friends with ZuraOshkhneli, the head of children’s television.Zura is my friend.
When Zura was little, the Germans were building a soccer stadium.You know children love soccer.Zura too happened to play on that field.He had a very good grandmother.This grandmother of his sent food to that German [Hans] through Oshkhneli.She knew he played soccer with her grandson and felt sorry for him because he had no food.This German became friends with Oshkhneli.Children love attention, don’t they?He rolled the ball to Oshkhneli and he kicked it back.Oshkhneli was later arrested because of it.He was, of course, interrogated and prohibited from going to the stadium again.
This German man too left Tbilisi when prisoners of war wereexchanged.Hans too went back to Germany.He was exchanged.He did remember, however, that his nurse, Kato, was from Telavi.He probably wrote it down or something…
Zura and I nearly had an argument over this issue.He used to tell me, “Aunt Kato, he loves you so much, doesn’t he?”“Son, leave me alone.”I would never marry a German.There were enough local young men wooing me.High-ranking people wooed me.I never got married, however, as I was prohibited from having children.I was involved in a car accident and lost my hipbone.My bosom is barren.Why would I get married?
I had enough to hang in there.I had no reason to get married.If I’ve learned anything, I try to pass it down to my three nieces and nephews.I hope it will be appreciated.One of the nephews is an engineer and the other is an economist.I had them graduate from school in Moscow.My niece has graduated from a medical school.She worked in Russia.Then she fell in love with a young man from Tbilisi.She returned to us with a child.She had been married for two or three days when the war broke out in Zugdidi [the Abkhazian war].Her husband was drafted.He was captured during a raid.For days later, his body was delivered to Tbilisi.My niece was left a widow.
Hans memorized my name and last name.He went back to Germany and got married to a German woman who passed away in 1961.They had one child.That man has been looking for me ever since.He looked for me throughout Tbilisi and all Georgia, turning to press publications and sending letters everywhere.He wrote, “I was a Telavi Hospital patient.I had a nurse called Kato Kiknadze.As far as I know, she’s from Telavi.Please help me find her.”
Then he engaged German press publications. German titles got in touch with newspapers and magazines in Tbilisi.Mary Zaalishvili, a Telavi editorial reporter, and I were neighbors.Mary told me one day, “Aunt Kato, a note has arrivedto the editorial office.It’s written to you.Maybe you should drop by.”“What note?Is that my obituary?”She laughed, “No.No.”“Who wrote the letter?” I inquired.“A young man, Oshkhneli,” she replied.Our editor-in-chief asked me some questions at the editorial office.A letter was sent to Zura who, in turn, sent a letter to Germany. Later (probably when Zura grew up and it became possible to communicate with foreigners) Zura once again made friends with that German man.He matured and found a job.He visited that German man in Germany, staying at his place for a week or so.I don’t know.It’s his business.That German was quite a rascal.He got movies from Zura and screened them in Germany.At any rate, they became friends.Zura arrived inTelavi one day and brought the Deputy Minister of Education, a Kvarchakhia, or whatever his name was.I don’t know.I was on duty when they paid me a visit.
It was, if I’m not mistaken… It was like fifteen years ago.They pulled up in a foreign car.I was told, “Kato, a car has arrived here, some men sitting in it and asking for you.Girl, is that your boyfriend?Should we go with you?There may be something in it for us too?”They made fun of me.I didn’t know Zura at that time.I only knew his last name.I didn’t know him in person.“I’m the one who sent a letter to the editorial office,” Zura told me, “This is the Deputy Minister of Education.”He had a device and he showed me that German man on that device.
I told him, “I don't know who the hell this is.”Child, I was sixteen when I met him.Fifty years had passed.How was I supposed to recognize him?I said, “I don’t know him.”I really didn’t recognize him.Then we went into the hospital entrance hall, and he put down his device.I invited my friends, “Girl, come on over here.”Zura turned on the device.Then he asked me, “Ma’am, do you mind if I get in touch with this man in Germany and inform him about you, so that he can come here?What do you think?Will you be able to host him?”“Son, a guest is a gift from God.Of course, let him come.Whenwill it happen?I’ll need some time to get ready.”
Almost two weeks later, I related this story to my family members and one acquaintance in Telavi, a man of like seventy.His son-in-law was a physician too and his sister-in-law was a pediatrician.I gathered them all.I wouldn’t do anything without them.I wouldn’t make that step on my own.Strangers were about to arrive from Tbilisi and abroad.What would my family say?
My son-in-law told me, “Don’t worry.We the men are still around.We won’t let anyone near your home.He won’t spend a night at your place or come over for any other purpose.We have households of our own.We have available space.We’ll feast and have fun.”
I delivered a turkey, chickens, vegetables (I wouldn’t buy it all at the farmer’s market) and about sixty liters of wine.I wanted to make sure we had enough.I took it all to Telavi and stored it in the kitchen.In the meantime, my nephew showed up, “Aunt Kato, Natela Basilashvili is on the phone.She wants to talk to you.”Natela Basilashvili was the wife of our neighbor in our village.She lived right off the path to the stream.I asked, “What’s the matter?”“People have arrived from Tbilisi.They want to see you.They’re in the museum.Please come over here.”I told my relatives, “Alright now, it’s all on you now.Prepare a meal.I’m not coming back here.It’s three or four of you women.Have it all done.I’m on my way to the museum.”
Natela looked at me when I got there.I looked very tired.I had baked two batches of bread.“Oh my, Aunt Kato!How will I take you to the Germans looking like this?No way!”She pushed me in the shower and washed me… I kept telling her, “Natela, I’m running late.”She put makeup on me, tidied me up, and applied something on my eyelashes.I told her, “Natela my dear, I’ve never applied anything on my face.Don’t make me go meet with strangers looking like this.Girl, I cannot!”She said no.She had a daughter, a good, solid woman.She gave her in marriage recently.Her daughter walked arm in arm with me on one side, Natela did the same on the other side, and so we left.
We arrived to find people, people, and more people!Everyone was waiting for me, curious who this Kato was.They all wanted to see me and how that German captive and I would meet.A multitude of people had gathered, the whole town of Telavi… As I arrived, someone said, “This is Kato.”Oshkhneli laughed.They all started staring at me.As I arrived, people yielded for me.I went into the museum.That man [the German] hugged and kissed me.I kissed him back.I asked him how he was.He replied in Russian.
Once in the museum, Telavi residents, bless their heart, organized a whole meeting for us.Four or five hundred people were present.They took pictures of that German man kissing me when we met.We remembered how we met at first.
He had gray hair.I sort of recognized him.He didn’t look overly familiar to me though.I vaguely remembered him.He did recognize me.He, my dear, had been through captivity, and his family had passed away, and many other things that have an impact on a person.
Then we went to the museum.I showed him the room where he was placed.He cried so bitterly, so inconsolably.Then he visited all the hospital rooms one by one.He was surprised that Telavi had such a treasure and such a good museum.He took pictures of everything.
We went home and sat at the table.They were very tired and so was I.I invited a few friends.I didn’t have any more room.Otherwise, I would have invited like five more people.We had a good time.These men feasted all night.I, to be honest with you, fell asleep.I was tired.They occupied two rooms.We made beds for them and offered them to pick a room.
We got up the next morning.I took them to Gremi [a sixteenth century architectural monument].Looking from the outside, Gremi looks like a bare cliff.From the inside, however, it’s an open field.It had a big yard too.It was quite a sight.He took pictures.We went to Napareuli from there, passing through KvemoAlvani and over ZemoAlvani, and arrived in Alaverdi [a sixth century monastery with an eleventh century cathedral].He took a lot of pictures in Alaverdi, and so did Zura and the other guys.All they did was take pictures.From there we went to TetriGiorgi [a church dedicated to Saint George], from where we went to Shuamta [an early medieval fortress], and then to AkhaliShuamta [New Shuamta, a sixteenth century monastery], so that he could become acquainted with Georgia.Then we got home after it got dark.We spent the remaining four days and nights feasting.They left on the fifth day.
He gave a tall German book [showing the size with her hands].I don’t read German.My niece does very well.It was about him and had pictures of people close to him.
My niece kept this book.We too took pictures when we went to see churches.We had a good time.He was a visiting foreigner, so I didn’t want to…
He came here once again after that.I don’t remember when.Letters keep coming and coming… He sends his regards.What else can he write?He cannot write to me that I’m his lover!I send my regards to his wife, Marisha.His wife’s name is Marisha.He remarried.He has three children.He recently had a grandchild, a girl.
He, this man, owns a recreation park.I don’t know where he is from, what city he lives in.I don’t know, child.He mentioned some cape.He has a beautifully arranged and glorious garden in a forested area.He said, “That’s where my resort home is.”He invited me, but I didn’t go.No, child.I didn’t have enough money, so how could I go?They offered me to pay for my trips there and back home.I refused though.You can pay for my trip all right, but what if I want to buy something?What if I come to like something?Death is all around me and it’s killing me.I have arrhythmia.My whole side is about to burst out.It’s no joke.I have been bedridden in Telavi for three months.