In Eduard Shevardnadze’s book “The Future Belongs to Freedom” Which has been translated into 17 languages, one reads the words: “For us (the four brothers) my sister Venera was a second mother. A soul of rare gentility and caring”...

The years have not diminished her beauty. With a warmth that immediately puts one at ease, She tells the story of a family to which a particularly renowned person belongs, a person who has indeed left his mark on the world. Like a scrapbook, her memories of the past are lovingly opened up to me.

     By Zaira Skhirtladze

My mother’s maiden name was Pateishvili. She worked hard at home, and had a job as well. She had four children and  was opposed to having another. “My children are already grown,” she would say. But number five, a boy, came anyway. Perhaps a divine hand was at work.

The boy grew up, as did we all, in a fairly traditional manner. Our parents were the most important examples for us. I remember that Mother would tend silk worms, and would take her pay in silk fabric. Once she brought home some silk and unfurled it all. “What part is for me?” I asked. “None,” she replied. “Have you forgotten your two sisters-in-law? First to them, and then, God willing, there will be something left for you.” However Mother wanted it, that was the way it was.

Father was the director of a school and also taught Russian. After lessons, he took his tools and worked the land. He was a beekeeper, too. Because he was an educated man, despite the hardships of our life he always saw that there were Georgian books as well as Russian literature and the classics at home to read.
I remember when Eduard successfully completed the pre-medical course, he refused to continue his studies at the Medical Institute. Although Father was very disappointed, his educator’s intuition did not fail him. “Let’s leave him to his own choice - perhaps it is not his vocation, after all,” he said.

Evgraph, the eldest brother, became ill with polio but still managed to work at the local newspaper. Hypocrate was for many years head of the State Committee for Professional Technical Education. Distinguished by virtue of his honesty and dedication, he left his mark on the Georgian system of technical education. He was a typical, hot-tempered Gurian. Eduard, was the antithesis of hotheadedness - it was difficult to throw him off-balance. And last, our Akaki. Akaki was especially robust, but shortly after finishing the house that he built for the family he was drafted. He went to war, never to return.

And myself? An economist and financier by trade, I worked for fifty years at one job. I have children and grandchildren. I am ten years older than Eduard and as always happens, even in times of hardship, we indulged the youngest of the family.

My little brother, together with the rest of us, was involved in work around the house. I remember once during the grape harvest I was picking the grapes and lowering them down in a basket to Eduard. He was so small that he could barely carry the basket of grapes. He was happy to be a part of it, though. I always held him on my lap. I was like a second mother to him. After he finished the seventh grade, I took him to Tbilisi to live with me. As I mentioned before, he had left medicine and chosen his own path. My husband and I had a small room on Pasanauri Street and we were living very frugally. Times were hard, but Eduard worked day and night to help out. He began to work at the Komsomol regional committee where he gradually moved up the ladder.

There is so much to tell about my dear brother that it is hard to decide what to say.

Many young people today, because of the difficult life, wait before starting a family. But today’s discomforts can hardly be compared to the hardships we endured back when Eduard married our Nanuli. Nanuli was not only beautiful, but a resourceful housewife as well. She was a special friend, to all of us. Even during times of hardship and despair, she has always strengthened and inspired hope. She always had the ability to renew our flagging spirit.

When they came from Moscow, I went to see them. Eduard was in the sitting room looking gravely at the ceiling. “What’s wrong, Eduard - feeling bad?” “Yes,” he answered, “I am feeling bad - I do not know how we will feed these people? We have no grain and no money.”

So now, my Edo, (I haven’t used that childhood name in so long) I want to remind you of the difficult times when we were young, and hug you as I would have done then, with the warmth of our past. Like a mother, I bless you and wish you well. And one more thing...may you always live up to the hopes placed on you by the people of this country.

Mshvidoba Kovelta.  25 January, 1998