Falling Apart

The snow-capped mountains to the north and the chacha that Dato insisted I take were all that kept me from losing my mind as we slowly made our way from Samtredia to Kutaisi. The narrow road full of skinny wandering cows and the occasional grazing pig, was lonely, depressing and longer than we had expected. After two days of walking in the cold rain we were tired and our troubles seemed to be more serious than ever. Our old ailments had come back to haunt us and each step was a challenge. Tim's knee was sore as it had been at the very beginning of our trip in Turkey and he was taking breaks often. I knew what was going on in his mind - he was questioning whether to continue, to walk, to endure the pain and why. I also knew that pain was much stronger when one questions it's purpose...and the thin line between mental and physical anguish was getting thinner by the kilometer...

I was going through similar doubts myself and was of little help to my brother. As in Sivas, a massive leg cramp kept me slow and my teeth clenched all day. By the time we covered our first few kilometers, I was walking as if I had a wooden leg and the pain began playing tricks on me. Singing, yelling, praying- I tried everything I could to forget the pain, my body - but for the first time I felt as if I was losing the battle...After thousands of kilometers and months of disciplining my mind, I was slipping and what I thought to be an unpenetrateable wall of self-control was now cracking...for the first time I wondered if it was physically possible for us to make it, and as we got closer to Tbilisi the reasons for "making it" were getting lost in a fog of pain...

Irakli the Philosopher had friends in Kutaisi, Georgia's second largest city, and he had promised to spend time with us there, we just needed to make it to the center. 10 km from the entrance of the city Tim signals that he's in trouble. The pain in his knee was unbearable and he couldn't go on. I walk back to him and see the tears bulging in his eyes. "My knee, nigger....I can't..." "How bad is it?" I ask, " Do you just need a break or what?" "I don't know. It's like it was in Gebze...I'm taking a bus..." "Come on man, just 10 more kilometers and we'll rest in Kutaisi. After a few days you'll be fine." At that point 10 km seemed longer than the entire trip from Istanbul to Georgia...

We rested 15 minutes or so on in a pine forest next to the road and after stretching our painful legs we silently tried to find the strength to continue. Well-aware that I would pay for this self-abuse for years to come, if not forever, I managed to pick up my backpack for the thousandth time and hobble down the road. I started wondering if the lessons I learned along the walk, about myself, about the world, were worth it...and to my surprise I felt anger in my heart - angry at myself for being in such a difficult position, angry at the walk for being so hard, at the world for all its hardships...but I would keep going, I had promised myself I would not give up, and I knew each step I took further would be a reference for everything I would do in life...nothing would be as hard as this - if I 'made it' now I could do anything in the future, I would be a better man...a man of his word...

"I can't go further." With only 5 km to the center I thought we would be fine but Tim had come to the end of his strength. I put my arm around my brother and we walked together like wounded soldiers towards the nearest hotel, praying they would let us stay the night for a reasonable price. Armed with the bishop's letter in my hand I pleaded our cause to the receptionist and again the kindness of another saved us - we were given a room for a ridiculously small fee...

"We're not going to watch French T.V. all morning are we?" I angrily snapped at Tim. "You have no understanding for how it is for me to speak English all the time and not hear my own language." "What?! I don't understand?! I spent fucking 3 months in Turkey!" "You're a selfish asshole!" "You're the selfish asshole!" Our patience was thin and we began the morning on a bad note. Four months of being so close with someone was a lesson of tolerance, patience and understanding but with all the troubles we were facing it was getting harder for us to respect each other. At times I couldn't believe the anger and bitterness coming from my lips. I didn't feel like myself at all. The physical and mental strains were making it hard for me to think about anything else than myself and finishing the walk...Since crossing into Georgia, the mental aspect of the walk had gotten much harder for me. It was now I who had to communicate with the people at the end of a tiring day and who had to entertain and be entertained at their tables. It was now I who had to carry us. As I witnessed Tim physically falling apart, I felt myself doing the same, mentally...