An Official Thank-You Letter to the Parliament and Government of Georgia

Paata Shamugia   |   January 11, 2025

Ladies and gentlemen,
I am thankful that you exist.
Are you doing well?
Are you sleeping peacefully?
When your sharp voices glide from the television like birds,
I feel safe, as if the shadow of a guardian angel flutters around me.
I often imagine you waving from expensive cars,
Peeking through lowered windows,
Seeing the gentle breeze from the air conditioner
Cool your divine foreheads.
We understand that history etches itself onto these foreheads—
We must take care of you
So the veins in your foreheads do not catch a chill.
Oh, how I wish to kiss those foreheads
(or at least scratch them, for heaven’s sake),
But I can’t reach you;
The barriers of social asymmetry separate us.
Still, I am grateful—there’s no other way to feel.

I am grateful for the economic chaos you’ve gifted us,
Because wealth corrupts the human soul,
And we are no longer at risk of such harm.
I am grateful you saved our souls
And passed laws brimming with metaphors,
Even if most are foolish or catastrophic.
But you tried your best,
Spared no effort,
We see this and appreciate it.
Indeed, we are grateful for everything—
Especially for the fact that
Murder gets seven years in prison, while my friend G.G.,
An actor and former TV presenter, now faces up to 15 years
For drugs that, admittedly, he had,
But not enough to justify an arrest—
A kind policeman helped by adding a few dozen extra pills.
Ginsberg wouldn’t approve of this, ladies and gentlemen,
Nor would Aldous Huxley,
And Timothy Leary might curse you outright.
But we are very thankful for everything—
Especially the labor laws
That require my neighbor Soso (a veteran of the Abkhazian War)
To haul concrete from dawn till dusk,
And at month’s end, the company deposits 300 lari into his account—
A whole 300 lari, a fistful of 300 lari!
Can you imagine?!
I still get chills recalling it,
And the chills grow when I learn his employer
Has a modest monthly turnover of just 20 million lari.
We are thankful, in a word. Soso is thankful too.

We are thankful,
And we don’t envy you your four-figure salaries
Or your five-figure bonuses,
Or your splendid villas
(which we won’t discuss their questionable origins).
You have villas; we have debts—
A poet might say. And the poet might also add
That according to Oxfam,
More than half of Georgia’s population
Can’t afford food.
But don’t worry about that, ladies and gentlemen;
You mustn’t let such realities upset you.
The harsh sounds of reality must not crack
The porcelain fragility of your feelings.
We must shield you from the ruthless grind of stern reality.
Let us shout in unison: Thank you!!! (Three times.)

I worry deeply about you.
Sometimes I see you in dreams,
Elegantly shedding your starched shirts,
Massaging your swollen necks,
And performing the holy parliamentary service on me.
What an honor! I feel so awkward I don’t know where to turn,
Washing off the traces of nocturnal emissions in shame,
And offering a heartfelt morning prayer of gratitude.