“Can you see it, can’t you?” An Outsider’s Perspective on Life and Work at ZMO

S-Bahnhof ‘Nikolassee’

Somehow, you can always feel the difference between West and East, either in Georgia or in Germany. As a part of the historical West, Nikolassee remains much more ‘old and classy’ than other parts of Berlin that I had got to know on previous stays in the city. However, as my mind couldn’t follow the typical framing of West and East, I constantly sought out a Georgian analogue for this particular district, so that I could feel more at home during my stay. Friedrichstrasse and Unter den Linden seemed to be similar to Vake, Kurfürstendamm is Saburtalo, and Tegel is Gldani, etc. Other Georgians here can accept these comparisons or not, but it was a kind of ‘solo entertainment’ and therefore, I was the only ruler.

Those who know me know a little about my fetishes for everything old, including old-fashioned ways of communicating, which in this case meant not using maps and relying on the good will of the kind people around me when asking for directions. But despite these self-limitations, I decided not to ‘risk’ too much and not to be late on the first day, as Maija, the JUSTIMINO coordinator, was waiting for me and she had a very busy schedule. I therefore contacted Keti, another Georgian scholar at ZMO (actually, the first one here, as far as I am aware) and she very graciously offered to meet me and show me around. Thus, at 11 o’clock, two Georgians met at S-Bahnhof Schöneberg and continued to Nikolassee. There, I finally found the answer to my association puzzle, having an old neighborhood of wealthy, well-educated families, a bit of a distance from the city centre, Nikolassee seemed most analogous to Tskneti in Tbilisi.

And just as suddenly, we were walking through a field full of poppies. There was a long phrase written on a sign. Within the first part of this long German word, I found ‘Schutz’ and guessed that this must be some sort of protected area. And then I saw a young man collecting the hay in an old-fashioned way, just like in Georgian villages. That’s why I love Berlin – such a diverse world in one city, and you still feel like you’re at home. And I got to work in this beautiful place for a month!

Chief Librarian

One long midwinter night in Tbilisi, I spontaneously decided to send an email to the contact person listed on the ZMO website, introducing my PhD topic and the reason for this communication. I received a very quick and welcoming answer from Maija. The rest of the communication continued in the same way so that, from the very first moment, I became very familiar with her. And after meeting her in person, I became much more confident in my ‘philosophy of life’ – there is a strong correlation between people and places, and no one can be better for a position than the person doing it in the here and now. Such a person is Maija, simply radiant at all times.

On my first day, Maija introduced to me the librarian, Mr. Ripper, the most positive and expressive librarian I have ever met, speaking as a student and librarian myself. I have never seen him with a complaint, a look of annoyance, or even an overly serious face.

After a short trip to the library, I asked Mr. Ripper a more in-depth question about the library, adding that I used to work as a chief librarian at my home university library. I instantly felt a bit like a show-off, and even embarrassed, but Maija and Mr. Ripper affirmed my experience and boosted my self-confidence. This encounter lingered in my thoughts even later, as I travelled the S-Bahn line ‘nach Frohnau’. By the end of the ride, I had decided that Mr. Ripper is, as another ‘Chief Librarian’, mature enough to distinguish between the ‘empty boasts’ of younger colleagues and sincerely interested, thoughtful questions.

‘Are you from France?’

Sometimes it is the smallest things that tell us the most about a person, and not their CV. Such a thought came to mind as I entered a tiny but beautiful office with a view of the outside, whose usual owner was out of the country. The office was just like I had dreamed – with its view of the garden and main entrance. To return to my point, I noticed a withered rose among the papers, and that rose shaped the owner’s personality in my eyes. On my way to the office the next day, I got some poppies to continue the tradition. A few weeks later, the owner, Mr. Roy, returned, and the first sign of his arrival that I noticed was a single yellow daisy in the window.

Do Germans love and ‘fetishise’ order above all else? Alles in Ordnung! Probably not, but I think that they have managed to build an image of themselves as the most self-organised nation, so that not even Germans in Berlin seem to be ‘Germanised’ in this sense. One of them here is Mr. Zine, the facilities manager at the institute. Once, he knocked on the door very lightly and asked me not to leave the windows open, as I usually left the office later than everyone else. He was right, but it was not the subject of the conversation that was so interesting as the opening question itself – ‘Are you French?’ I answered that I was Georgian, but this question immediately made me think of recent discussions in Georgia on why some Georgians love being considered Europeans. As if ‘we are Georgians, therefore, we are Europeans’? Is it a kind of small nation ‘complex’, or is it a problem particular to certain peoples?

All those kinds of questions can be perfectly explained by the looking-glass self-theory of Charles Cooley. Such questions were very current in Georgia at the time of my arrival in Berlin, so they were a leitmotif of my activities and everyday thoughts, even there. And who can detect this more easily than another Georgian? So it was that my first conversation with Archil, unlike with Zine, began with him telling me that he always recognises Georgians by their melancholy gaze. It was surprising to me, as I found myself happier in Berlin than usual. However, he has been living in Berlin for a long time, and as such perhaps he could be a more objective observer than I am. And yes, maybe our faces, Georgian, European, or Caucasian, really do reflect most of our thoughts about our past and present.

‘What about Khevsurs in this sense? Do they differ from other Georgians in some ways? Otherwise, why I am always emphasising Khevsurs so much, both here and in Georgia?’, I asked myself once again while waiting for such a question from Stefan, the research group leader, as part of the JUSTIMINO podcast talks. There is still time to think about the many characteristics that make Khevsurs, this small community on the northern Georgian border, who they are. However, regarding the second question, I already have a clear answer: because we need more of a focus on our local histories, and it is long overdue.

‘Be excellent, people will notice it.’

Tuesdays and Thursdays are the most active days at ZMO, a big gathering with all the scholars here. Generally, Germany is a country where researchers can choose the optimal days for being in the office, as well as their working hours, without any worries or judgements. Here, scholars know that for the fully-fledged intellectual process, one needs a self-optimised routine, Selbstoptimierung as the Germans say.

Soon after going there, I immediately notice the difference and can see the logical explanation. However, it is one comment from Niko, a Greek scholar here, that helps me to practically accept it. ‘Writing a dissertation is a creative process and it cannot be measured beforehand, how many paragraphs you write per day.’ Although Niko is Greek and not German, and Germans may be strict at counting, here everyone accepts and respects each other’s feelings, motivations, and temper. This is the main difference between Georgian and Central European culture, I think. Niko is not the only scholar from Greece here; Aikaterini is another Greek at ZMO and part of the JUSTIMINO project. She is a very friendly and positive person. While listening to her, I feel how much I appreciate honest and open-hearted people. Another of the JUSTIMINO group members is Leo. Leo is obviously very German, which in my mindset is translated as having an extremely high sense of personal space and boundaries, strictly defined daily routines, and straightforwardness, for example, not being confused or messy. On the other hand, Stefan, the senior researcher and head of the JUSTIMINO project, does not match this national framing. At the very first glance, he always seems to be hurrying somewhere, or seeking something or, at least, trying to figure out what exactly he is looking for.

One Tuesday gathering began much earlier than usual. A photographer started to fix the camera and photograph the researchers who had joined ZMO more recently, including Keti and Gevorg – an Armenian scholar, and a very friendly and positive guy. During the European football championship, Gevorg was the one who actively supported our ‘Mannschaft’, even supporting it in Georgian – ‘Midi, Bijo, midi’ [Go, man, go!]. Indeed, I was curious how he could even know the Georgian folk song ‘Shatilis asulo’ [The Shatilian girl], as after hearing about my roots, he constantly remarked, ‘Ah, Shatilis asuli?’

But to continue my previous story from where I began, another of my internal monologues comes to mind, again related to the looking-glass-self theory– what kind of image scholars should have or, generally, what kinds of expectations people have of scholars according to their image? And while observing the photo shoot, I pointed out most of the common personality types, accepted by all the different personalities here; and, ZMO really does have a significant number of international scholars. In some ways, it was like fieldwork for me, being an involved observer. So many people, so many reasons for observation! And although I was a visiting historian here, it seems that I just could not easily leave my background as a sociologist behind. However, most of my interest was not in the image itself, but rather in the images that emerged via the different scholars’ personal characteristics as reflected in their appearance. In this regard, the archival workshop was very fruitful. There, I was able to discern the most important element of those characteristics, that which makes scholars remarkable.

My first role model was Anandita, an Indian scholar, with the ideal combination of straightforwardness and an insightful mind. Being clear, laconic, and positively convinced while commenting upon something, while at the same time very plain-talking when arguing. While listening to her, I remembered one of the phrases from my favourite motivational speech by Oprah Winfrey – ‘be excellent, people will notice it’. And here I really could see what being excellent looks like in practice. Sure, some might ask why I need to listen to motivational speeches at all, but it is a long and complicated story; here, at least, I found some practical use for my hobby.

Another position among my ‘top three’, in my mind, went to Stefan for his natural skill of feeling and captivating the audience, creating a kind of synergy between him and his listeners. After finishing the day, during the summarising conversation in the S-Bahn with other colleagues, one said ‘Stefan has a charisma’, and I fully agreed. I encountered the final person to complete my scholarly image trifecta just a few days before my departure, while sitting outside with Marianne, a visiting scholar from France. Suddenly, we heard the ringing of a bicycle, but could not yet see the bicycle or the bicyclist. A few minutes later, an older man appeared at the main gate at ZMO, ringing his bell and shouting something, most likely protesting. This older but stylish man then parked his bicycle in front of our tables, not using the parking area, as others usually do. His temper and actions formed the final part of my personal frame of scholarly images and personalities – a bit of épatage, a bit of spice to finish off a delicious dish.

Metro Tbilisi

What would my greatest grandmas think upon hearing that of all the scholars, the ones who I struck up the easiest and most friendly rapport with, were Diliara and Leila, two Tatar academics. Moreover, Leila became my trainer in extra-curricular activities. On the day before my departure, I was scheduled to present my PhD project. I received very useful reflections and comments from the other scholars and immediately began worrying about how much I still needed to develop in my research work. I soon felt a bit lighter, however, while listening to Diliara’s comment, apologising for her Tatar ancestors, with whom Khevsur women had conflicts after they were resettled in the fruitless areas of the Samgori Valley.

It was my last day, and I felt so sad that I would soon have to leave this welcoming and friendly environment, just as I had finally fully opened myself up to everyone, just as I had fallen into an easy pattern of communication, just as I had stopped overthinking every little observation and become familiar with the situation. Thus, although I was in a hurry to get to a podcast recording on one of the city’s longest-named Strasses, I stopped by my favourite branch on the way to ZMO, a spot where I often stopped to savour the moment, looking out across the big field as I practiced gratitude.

The last day was the most remarkable for me – thanks to Stefan, Maija, Archil, Aikaterini, and Leo. Besides the beautiful venue with its view over the city (where Maija, who found it, once again proved her good taste), I really experienced the best side of such group get-togethers – as I felt that, finally, my self-esteem had simplified and merged with my ‘self’, finally forgetting about how much I had been putting my personality to the ‘test’ . Finally, I had broken through the looking-glass self theory and left overthinking behind! The day ended with a late U-Bahn ride, as this one ends in the Tbilisi Metro, much faster and noisier than the German one. Some memories are still very clear for me, especially the long commute to the institute and back. And suddenly, a new email appears in my inbox, from Stefan, informing me about the personal blogs by JUSTIMINO group members. As I could not manage to say good-bye to all of the scholars I had got to know during my time there, I thought this blog entry could be the possibility to do so after the fact – to express my gratitude and remind them of me, not allowing them to forget me too easily. 

Thus, I choose my favourite song from my playlist most associated with Berlin, opened up my mobile notes, and started briefly recording the situations, associations, and people who I don’t want to forget.

However, as I don’t know where to finish, and not wanting to put a full stop behind the experience, I will finish this text with a huge ‘Danke, Berlin!’  

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