July 28 is possibly the most important annual religious festival in Svaneti, although there are some strong contenders, such as Christmas, Easter, Maryamoba (the feast of the Virgin Mary) and the 2 Giorgobas (St. George’s days). On this date all eyes are turned towards the church of St. Kvirike (1112 AD), with its XII-XV century frescoes by the great Tevdore, high above the village of K’ala, about 10 km below Ushguli towards Ipari.

It was some years into my Svaneti experience before I was able to attend Kvirikoba. The best way is to base yourself in either Ushguli or Mestia, going to the church for the day, as there is little accommodation in K’ala itself.

Kvirikoba is not a subject well described on the internet, a main source of information for me. I suppose I need to ask some more Georgians about it, though from the details I have found online, I should prepare for some contradictory replies. The two main thoughts I can discover are, first, that this is an Orthodox Christian festival (God forbid that it should be anything else in Svaneti! We are Christians here...), commemorating the martyrdom of “Kvirike, the son of Ivlita, who both were tortured to death for their faith”. The second, older and less eagerly discussed root is “Kviria, a pre-Christian pagan deity, protector of soil, man and animals”. (God forbid that it should be anything else in Svaneti! We were pagans first and thus we remain.)

The church is reached by a small track upwards from the main road, through the forest, up, up. If the weather is obligingly clear you are rewarded not only by the lovely little chapel, but also by a sight of Ushba in the distance, that most sought after of mountains in the Caucasus, entering and departing your vision as you walk or drive around it, obscured or revealed. Here, wonderfully revealed.

My first Kvirikoba was part of the “Trip from Hell” to Ushguli which I have described earlier. A group of us left that village at about 6 am and walked down to K’ala, avoiding the heat and vehicle-stirred dust which would happen if we left much later. As always in post-Soviet times, there were quite a few hundred people at the church all day long, Georgians as well as guests from more than 10 foreign countries by my count.

There were sacrifices of goats, rams and roosters, and cauldrons bubbling with the resulting stews. A bell was being rung, and money changing hands, as the bell-ringer was being paid to offer prayers for this or that family for the coming year. A contest of strength was also in progress - whoever was both long-armed and strong enough to lift the large round boulder and stagger a short distance was welcome to try. Quite some technique was involved, and the novices were being given earnest advice on how to go about it. Men only, of course.

I never got to see one of the main items of the church, a chased gold icon of Christ which is under 24/7 armed guard. (It was once apparently stolen, in less protected days, and the thieves ran away across the mountains with their prize. Dauntless, the villagers gave chase, caught up and... stoned the miscreants to death on the spot.

What was all the fuss about? Only one of the most important icons in the whole Orthodox world, I am told.) That year I gave up too early and trudged back up to Ushguli in mid-afternoon, getting my full taste of both the heat and the dust on the way.

In 2010 it was a different story. My new wife and I were staying in Etseri, and our transport found us: an enthusiastic group of young Orthodox Georgians on their first pilgrimage to K’ala. They spent the night in Etseri, and had space in their marshroutka for Lali and me the next day, in both directions.

That time I did succeed in viewing the fabulous gold icon, as well as the splendidly frescoed interior of the church. Much else was the same as my first time. One event made it sufficiently different to be unforgettable.

As we were waiting for our group to gather and leave that afternoon, a young man could be heard screaming and laughing his way down the track to the main road. Two of his friends were trying to help him, seemingly at considerable risk. He was quite drunk, but if ever I saw the rightness of the word “spirits” used for strong alcohol, this was it. Alternately tormented and hilarious, clearly he was far from self control. He was wrestled onto his group’s marshroutka, only to go into terrifying fits there. Off again, on again, next to the driver this time. Why NOT put the whole van at risk! We overheard his friends explaining that alcohol always had this effect on him. A better advertisement for avoiding drunkenness I could not imagine.

We left K’ala with some of the mysteries of Kvirikoba solved, others awaiting resolution. What is clear is that to understand the Svans, it cannot be ignored.

Georgia Today

M.B