Despite the fact that Abkhazia is now recognised by four countries, the president has remained accessible. In no time we are sitting in his office. It is the same president – Bagapsh [ 165 ] - because he was re-elected in 2009. That is also the reason to take a swipe at Georgia, just like last time. ‘In Georgia, not a single president has come to power without a revolution. How long do you think Saakashvili will last? What we are pleased about,’ says Bagapsh, ‘is that in the eyes of the world Georgia is now the aggressor. As a result, everything has become clear. We’re now recognised as an independent country and will proceed to set up our constitutional state. We’re here now, we can’t be avoided. Europe would do well to talk to us, otherwise we’ll look in another direction - to Iran or further,’ he almost threatens. His visa for France was recently revoked. ‘If Europeans don’t let us into their countries,’ he says, ‘we’ll keep Europeans out of our country.’ It’s clear. The tone has changed. This tone has also filtered through to the young generation in Sukhumi. Angela G sometimes travels with us through Abkhazia. She is 22 and studying International Relations. As part of an American exchange programme she was able to study in California and so speaks fluent American English. At the same time, she is one of the more nationalistic Abkhazians we have met. She doesn’t miss an opportunity to point out how beautiful the things are that we see and how much potential they have for the country. As part of the same exchange programme she also went to Tbilisi. ‘Georgians are power hungry and arrogant,’ she saw for herself. She doesn’t believe in any conciliation. ‘Hopefully we can be normal neighbours. They can come here on holiday if they want.’ Angela was young during the war. The thing she remembers most is macaroni with sugar. ‘That came from some emergency rations that were distributed in Gudauta.’ A Russian base was located in Gudauta, so the city was spared heavy fighting, but Angela knows people who died. In the garden of a sanatorium stands a small statue of a man with a video camera. ‘That’s my uncle,’ says Angela. ‘Shot by a Georgian sniper. We now have our independence, but it has come at a price,’ she says. ‘And we - the younger generation and the generations after us - must always remember that.’ Angela and her peers are re-inventing their country. ‘The Soviet Union destroyed so much,’ she says. ‘I want to think, do and dream Abkhazian. But I often think and dream in Russian and many traditions have been lost.’ We sit with Angela in a café in Sukhumi. ‘Sukhum!’ Angela corrects us immediately. ‘Abkhazia is actually Apsny, land of soul, Sukhumi is Sukhum or Akua and Gali is Gal. You only use the Georgian names,’ she reproaches us. So we sit in a café in Sukhum, on trendy IKEA Klippan sofas. Next to us are four Caucasian men with their typical Beatles haircuts, black leather jackets and energy they can’t get rid of. Angela provides them with a new goal in life. She is wearing a loose blouse which she immediately covers with a cushion from the sofa. ‘I hate it when those kinds of guys sit next to us,’ she says. One of them hangs halfway over the sofa and looks us blankly in the eyes. An Abkhazian girl with
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