When Silva Iosebashvili, 54, recalls her childhood, her memories are filled with the aroma of freshly baked matzah bread and fruit gardens. In her mind, she is walking with her grandmother through the neighborhood and can feel the heat of the bakery near the Tskhinvali synagogue. 

Khodaivandy is a member of Georgia's one of the largest diasporas – the group of thousands of ethnic Georgians who were exiled to Persia 400 years ago. 

The pandemic opened a new path to peace-building.

Nearly two centuries after Russia’s Doukhobors (Spirit Wrestlers) were exiled to Georgia, the fate of their tiny community lies in the hands of its young members. A small religious minority, the Doukhobors built a home in Georgia in the 1840s, after falling afoul of the tsarist Russian Empire. For generations, they thrived in the area, settling into eight villages

Negar Khodaivandy, 21, loves the scarf she wears around her neck. It is the same scarf she uses as chador in Iran. One scarf bridges two very worlds, carried by a girl who was born of two very different cultures. Khodaivandy is one of dozens of young Iranians who are moving to Georgia. More accurately, they are moving back to Georgia, their ancestral homeland. Khodaivandy is a member of Georgia's one of the largest diasporas – the group of thousands of ethnic Georgians who were exiled to Persia 400 years ago. Starting from the early 17th century, ethnic Georgians in Iran were forced to settle in the town of Fereydunshahr. Georgians converted to Shia Islam but maintained Georgian traditions, including the language, although over the past four centuries it has taken on some local traits, including a very specific accent.

When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, former republics like Georgia inherited a legacy of dangerous substances held in sub-par storage.  Over two decades later, some Georgian communities are still largely in the dark about the potential health risks posed by stockpiles of dangerous pesticides and chemicals. Standing on the main highway overlooking the Iaghluja Mountain, there is no outward indication of what lies under the soil. What is remarkable is the wind; strong gusts of wind that blow the surface dirt off the mountain, down toward nearby villages. Local residents often complain about how strong the wind blows, without realizing what these winds might be blowing into their homes, farms and gardens.

Four years ago, Salomea Gogeshvili's life radically changed. The mother of two was in a horrible car accident. She survived the crash but the doctors had to amputate her right arm. For weeks she felt like she was falling down a dark abyss. She lost her arm and was quickly succumbing to the fear that, together with her arm, she had lost the ability to raise her children – as well as the physical beauty that defined her as a woman.

My grandma, Lamara Museridze, protested in the 1956 demonstrations against the Soviet Union in Tbilisi. She was just 23 at the time and her courage has continued to inspire generations of children in our family.

Covid-19 has introduced millions of people across the globe to isolation, due to social distancing measures and national emergency restrictions. But for some, isolation is a way of life. Like many former Soviet republics, Georgia is grappling with a legacy of isolating people with disabilities, either at home or in an institution.