The Toast of the Two Kisses

                Over the past seven years or so, I have been greatly blessed by the opportunity to travel to the delightful, charming city of Tbilisi almost two dozen times.  Nestled just south of the Caucasus Mountains and straddled by the Mtkvari river, the 1500 year old capitol city of the Country of Georgia lives up to the meaning of its name; warmth.  Tbilisi is a city of contrasts.  Old, pre-Soviet stone buildings sit cheerfully next to modern steel and glass structures the way a grandfather and grandchild sit next to each other on a park bench.  The remains of the old city wall wind through antique neighborhoods with brightly painted facades and large balconies that jut out from the wall like jewels on a bracelet.

            The Narikala Fortress sits above the city looking down as if a paternal protector; reminiscent of a not so distant past when envious neighbors lusted after this city and its riches.  Tbilisi, or Tiflis as it was once known, was a key trading city on the Silk Road.  Persians, Byzantines, Mongols, Arabs, Ottomans, and Russians all marched with swords or rifles in hand against this very citadel that now seems content to be resting comfortably like an old Soldier retired to a rocking chair viewing the modern city with wonder and pride.  In the Mtatsminda Pantheon Cemetery that sits on the hillside overlooking the city (where the photo at the top of the blog was taken) the bones of famous Georgian poets and musicians rest near those of the mother of one of Georgia’s most notorious native sons, Josif Dzhugashvili, known to the rest of the world as Joseph Stalin.  The stones and wisdom of antiquity rest quietly and contentedly next to the steel and energy of the modern day.

            I love this city.  Not for the contrasts, or the architecture, or the geography, but for the people.  I can truly say that some of my most beloved friends live there.  There is a Georgian proverb that says “Guests are a gift from God”.  This lives in their hearts and has been shown to me with such affection and honest emotion that I wonder if I had indeed been a Georgian in a previous life, or if maybe that’s just the way we should all behave toward our fellow man and Georgians have just figured that out before the rest of humanity has.

            There is no greater method of demonstrating this philosophy that the Supra.  A Supra (Georgian for ‘table’) is a dinner conducted in varying states of formality that is the epitome of Georgian hospitality.  Whether it is a family gathering, work colleagues and their guests, or a large gathering of powerful political or business leaders and their clients, the spirit is the same; fellowship, friendship, and hospitality.  The food is brought out in waves and it’s not unusual to have plates of food stacked upon plates of food.  Georgian wine is served in pitchers and a guest’s glass is never empty.  Before going any farther, it should be noted that considerable amounts of wine are consumed at a Supra.  The wine, usually a product of the family of one of the participants, is often brought in to the Supra in large five litre jugs.  It is bad manners to allow a guest’s glass to remain empty, or allow a guest to fill their own glass.

 The key figure in this tradition is the Tamada.  This is the master of the Supra.  He gives the toasts and regulates the flow and timing of the evening.  Being a Tamada is a responsibility that is not taken, or given, lightly.  It is not necessarily the oldest, or youngest, or highest ranking that is named as the Tamada.  Rather it is the one that can be the most sincere host for the given audience.

            The primary responsibility of the Tamada is to be the toastmaster.  The Tamada proposes a series of toasts that honor tradition, family, and of course, their guests.  Some toasts are to be drunk to the bottom of the glass (or bowl, or horn).  Some are smaller gulps.  If a guest is a non-drinker for whatever reason, then they are excused from the wine.  Participating in the ritual is still expected, however.  If you are imbibing, hold on.  Eat lots of bread and pace yourself.

            Having been an active participant in dozens of Supras of many different shapes and sizes, I am actually quite at ease with the process.  The toasts go roughly like this:

1.  A toast to Peace.                                                                                                             

2.  A toast to our ancestors.                                                                                                

3.  A toast to our families.                                                                                                   

4.  A toast to our Countries and our friendship.                                                                           

5.  A toast to our fallen colleagues.                                                                                                

6.  My memory starts getting fuzzy right about here.

            Depending on the Tamada and the occasion, toasting can go on for hours. Sometimes the toasts are very long and descriptive. Sometimes they are unique in their wording.  Sometimes they are short and simple, but heartfelt. The ritual and the sentiment are still the same.  The toasts come from the heart and it’s expected that the guests honor the tradition.   

            Last fall, I heard a new toast.  Every once in a while, after the traditional toasts are finished, someone at the Supra will propose a toast that is unique and suited to the occasion.  This toast touched my heart so deeply, that this blog entry is named after it.  This toast truly shows how deeply passionate the Georgian people are about their lives, their families, and their country.  I am simplifying and paraphrasing considerably, but you must understand that great amounts of wine had been consumed at this point (I also made the mistake of sitting very near the Tamada therefore my consumption was heavily scrutinized!).  It went something like this….

            “Mister Tamada! I would like to toast the two kisses!  The first kiss is the one that a Mother gives to her son when he is new to this world… a small baby.  A Mother’s love of her son is eternal and lives in this kiss.  The second kiss is supposed to be when the Mother passes on to heaven and the loving son kisses her goodbye.  This toast is to the second kiss that should never be but has been given so many times.  It is the kiss a Mother gives her son when he has died in battle for his country.  A kiss so true and full of sorrow that only God can understand.  A kiss goodbye given to a son that gave his life so that his mother could be safe from danger. God bless this kiss and the son that receives it”

            Near where the fortress rests on the hillside above Tbilisi, there is a statue of the Mother of Georgia.  She holds in one hand a sword and the other a bowl of wine.  The sword is for her enemies and the wine for her friends.  I’ve always admired that as a symbol of the simple philosophy of the Georgian people.  Ever since that Supra, where that toast was given with such passion, I now see a statue of a Mother that also has a heart broken by having to give so many kisses to the sons of Georgia who have fought for thousands of years to keep her safe.  May God bless my friends there and their families, and bless that small country and a people that count their riches in the number of guests they have hosted.  Riches no invader can ever pillage or plunder.