Nov 18, 2009In Your Words

A Volunteer’s Perspective

Farming Arugula in the Republic of Georgia

A Volunteer’s Perspective

WHO?

C. Bruce Williams (Grad ’76) is an agricultural expert who participates in a program called Farmer-to-Farmer that is funded by USAID and administered by non-profits such as Citizens Network for Foreign Affairs.

Excerpts taken from C. Bruce Williams’ personal diary:

Tskaltubo City, Republic of Georgia
September 2009

My host’s name is Zurab Janelidze. He is the new generation of businessman in Georgia, having founded an herb-growing company named Herbia Ltd with several other local farmers and businessmen. During the day, Zurab works as an accountant for the local provincial government. But during all other waking hours, he works to make Herbia a profitable company. He is likable man, in his late 40s and married with three children.

Herbia produces vegetables, basil, parsley, dill and other greens on land previously occupied by Soviet-built greenhouses. At present, income is derived from buying dill, parsley and coriander from local farmers, then cooling, packing and shipping these products to the Ukraine and eastern European countries. No trade is going to Russia since the war in 2008. The old Soviet-style glass glazed greenhouses were razed after the collapse of the Soviet Union, leaving a debris field of glass and plastic pipe in the soil.  Herbia has erected new modern plastic covered Quonset-type houses with government aid as well as UN and USAID grant money.

Zurab Janelidze (left) and C. Bruce Williams.

Plants are grown in ground with drip and overhead irrigation. Cucumbers, tomatoes, eggplant and other common vegetables are presently grown, but Zurab hopes to grow more profitable crops such as arugula, basil and mint for export. I worked mainly with his chief agronomist, Berdia Silagadze—a sharp, hardworking young man of 34—to instruct on the details of arugula production.

After a tour of the greenhouses, Berdia took me and my interpreter, Lana, to our “hotel” rooms. Our hotel was the Tskaltubo Santitorium (aka the Oasis Santitorium) which was a complex of old Soviet-era spa-type buildings spread over more than 150 acres. The complex is immense, with some parts dating to 1933. Each rectangular concrete building consists of three stories with long ornate halls. On each hall there are many tiny guest rooms with spartan 1940s era-style bathrooms and one common “dorm style” shower per hall. Lighting is sparsely used due to the cost of electricity, so the hallways and rooms are dimly lit. The concrete exterior and marble columns inside are crumbling, the result of years of use and no funding for repair or renovation. Outside are massive old concrete and marble fountains, crumbling roadways and large plazas that were once crowded with thousands of people but are now deserted with the exception of an occasional cow, dog or farm animal. The general aura of this 70-year-old place made my lodging feel more like an eerie movie set than a home away from home.

Soil debris from previous Soviet greenhouses.

The spa is the main attraction of Tskaltubo. Stalin visited in 1933 and enjoyed the warm natural waters. The natural ground water temperature is the same as the human body, around 95 degrees Fahrenheit. Stalin wanted a beautiful spa for the people, so in less than nine months, a one-acre marble and concrete building was built. We toured the facilities and saw the therapy baths. Lung diseases, muscle problems, skin ailments and many other diseases were treated here. Between the 1950s and the 1980s, Soviet citizens were allowed to visit the spa for 20 days a year free of charge, courtesy of the government. During the season, more than 100,000 people would frequent the baths. No one comes here these days, and the spa was nearly deserted. Now it is a marble wonder that is quickly falling apart. A bath costs two Lara ($1.20) and a full body massage is 10 Lara ($6.60). At those prices, I signed up for a back massage and a hydromassage bath immediately.

Evenings were spent at a local restaurant. Food was superb and plentiful. Local wines were good. Three types of bread were served:  wheat, corn and cheese. Chicken and beef dishes cooked in clay pots with olive oil and garlic were tasty and filling. Mixed salads including eggplant slices filled with a walnut relish and served cold were elegant and unique.

Wine in Georgia is the social lubricant. Georgians boast that their nation is where grapes originated and is home to more than 138 different cultivated varieties. Everywhere I go, people want to drink wine. Wine is toasted, like the Russians use vodka, and drank all in one gulp. People are very proud of their own wine and most carry around and drink their families’ homemade wine. The locally produced wines are not very high in alcohol and taste like homemade wine at best, which makes the mode of ingestion—gulping—seem appropriate at times.
We began planting arugula on the third afternoon of my visit. It turned out to be more difficult than we expected. In the U.S., seeds are pelletized and planted by special equipment. In Georgia, all seeding was manual. Seeds were small, spacing is essential and it was very hot in the greenhouses in late afternoon. I told Berdia that he could find many other ways to plant these plots, but I wanted to show him how it is done correctly in the U.S. the first time.  Later, he can experiment on his own and find the best way to do it in Georgia. I kept records of what was planted, where, etc.

Farm workers planting arugula seed.

I watched with interest my interpreter, Lana, interact with the farm workers. She is a city girl, born and raised in Tbilisi, but felt she should help plant the seed in the greenhouse. It was hot and grueling work. After two hours of sweating with the farm labor, I asked her if she was ready to move to the country. As an interpreter, she makes $60 U.S. per day translating, and the farm laborers make $6.60 U.S. per day working in the heat and sun for eight to 10 hours. Much of the manual labor is done by women. Early in the assignment, she was telling me about all the positive aspects of organic farming, but now she is quiet about the issue. It is amazing how knowledge changes our attitudes. Someone’s labor must pull the weeds, remove the rocks from the soil and plant the seeds.  Chemicals and equipment make the process easier, but not easy. My Rotary Club had donated money for me to purchase arugula seed as a gift to the Georgia farmers. I had made it a point to purchase organically grown seed since the grower wanted organic production.  In the end, the grower had purchased additional arugula seed that were treated with thiram, a fungicide.  He said he did know thiram was a pesticide and not organic.

Arugula in the greenhouse one month after planting.

During one evening of my visit, Zurab drove me 20 miles to central Tskhaltubo to show me the sights. It is an old Georgian city of about 200,000 that is being renovated in a big way. Beautiful old parks are being preserved and restored. Most stores and buildings are faced in stone—limestone or similar—and marble. We took a cable car to a hilltop amusement park perched over the lighted city. A storm was brewing; lightning created a surreal profile of the distant northern Caucasus Mountains. We rode the Ferris wheel to get the best view of the city and took a long walk. Tskhaltubo has been settled for 2,400 years, and I saw evidence of old Greek columns and Roman influence. Statues filled the parks, and it was explained to me that most of the statues were of local people and had no identification on them. Everyone locally knew who the statue represented. A toastmaster, an early Jewish photographer, warriors and former kings were all represented by statues.

As the thunder and lightning moved toward the city, I commented that I did not know if the thunder was the brewing storm or the Russians coming back. My translator shared what I had said with my hosts, and they thought it was very funny. From Tskhaltubo, one can see the snow-capped mountains that form the border between Georgia and Russia and imagine the threat that lies just beyond them. It is a reminder that life can change quickly in Georgia.

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