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Dance of Doom2010-08-10 16:30
Through hearts of Ossetians, Georgians, and Russians war of 2008 went with a devastating vortex. Notions who is friend and who is enemy were confused. And for some conflict parties remain native, disregard anything. Russian, Ossetian, and Georgian blood mixed in veins of Inga Gamkhitashvili. In these terrible days she worried for all her relatives. Only three days before the beginning of combat actions she left from Tbilisi to Moscow, where she lives, studies, and dances in the Kolkhida and the Suliko ensembles. All what happened on August 8th and after that crucial day, reminded her of bellicose dance of mtiuluri, with predefined tragic end.
Here come swift, merry, carefree sounds of gudastviri (a bagpipe - GeorgiaTimes). A beautiful girl is going out to the bank of a stream. She seems to be floating over the water whirling slowly and timidly, treading lightly. In contrast with the cheerful melody she looks timid and a little bit sad...
Every time I danced this part in mtiuli dance I was thinking about my faraway homeland, my Sakartvelo dreaming of my return to the native country. Though I left Tbilisi as a child, there is an impression of an unknown force that kept calling me back there. This summer I surrendered and went to Georgia. Clean, warm air made my head swim. Emotions rushed over me! Oh how long has it been since I last visited my motherland! Georgia has changed immensely: renovated façades of the buildings, planted flowers and trees, new sporting grounds... Gudastviri was playing cheerfully inside my heart - in sync with my happiness.
All of a sudden doli join in (drums - GeorgiaTimes): two hot young men appear on the stream bank. The girl is at a loss: she likes them both - in different ways. The battle for the maiden begins, her image reflected in chilly waters of the stream.
August 5: I'm already in Moscow. August 8: Russian TV features the start of hostilities between Ossetia and Georgia. Is this a real war? Again? A phone call from Tbilisi. A trembling voice of my friend, full of fear, confirms my most dreadful apprehensions. My relatives and friends are drafted into war. Gela, a friend of mine, was stopped in his car on his way to Batumi. "The war is starting. It's time to protect the motherland", he was told. Gela dropped in at his place, informed his parents and went to Tskhinvali.