Blue & Yellow

Tbilisi, Georgia ~ February 24, 2025

~ 18:30

Blue and yellow flags rippled in a gust of bitter wind and the crowd huddled in front of the Ukrainian embassy collectively shivered. It was the anniversary of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. The gathering was small and somber. I had gotten used to the cheerful atmosphere of Georgian protests. This, however, was not just a protest—it was also a memorial.

More people arrived, squeezing into the narrow space between the road and the embassy gate. The press of bodies blocked the wind, and for a few moments, I felt warm. The Ukrainian ambassador gave a speech, but I was too far back to hear. When she finished, the crowd shifted, and I found myself in the front row of a circle.

The circle had formed around a woman holding a thick blue folder. She was speaking, but it was in Georgian and I didn’t understand. Then she opened the folder. Inside was a stack of paper colored in the blue and yellow of the Ukrainian flag. Georgian script scrolled across the blue and English on the yellow. They were names, it was then that I understood. Each page bore the name of a Georgian volunteer who had died fighting in Ukraine.

The woman read each name aloud, and with every name, the crowd cheered. As the list continued, a man passed the names around. One was pushed into my hand, Alexo Tsaava. I took it, though I felt like an intruder at a family funeral. The people around me had tears running down their cheeks. They wore pained expressions, as if every name was a fresh cut they had to endure. I wondered how many of them were family and friends of those killed. 

When all the names had been read, the crowd spread further down the street. Our numbers had grown, and we no longer fit on the sidewalk. A group of Russians had gathered near the embassy gate. One carried a sign displaying the sigils of the battalions fighting Russia in Ukraine. At the bottom, in Russian, was a call to end the Russki Mir—the Russian world.

Two others held signs supporting the Russian battalions fighting against Putin’s regime. Another had a drawing of the opposition Russian flag, with two white stripes framing a blue one, instead of the usual white, blue, and red. It is meant to represent Russia without the blood.

~19:30

A tall, wiry man bumped into me, gently moved me aside, shouted in Georgian, and made a beckoning gesture to the crowd. The crowd turned towards him, but were slow to respond. As the crowd wavered between being stationary and moving, a famous Ukrainian song blared through the air. I thought the music was coming from a passing car showing support, but then a red pickup truck pulled up along the side of the road and erased any mystery as to the source of the music.

The bed of the truck was packed with people and speakers. The truck’s frame vibrated with the music. Someone changed the song, and Ukraine’s national anthem rang out. Slowly, the truck drove down the road. As though called by the music, the crowd followed behind it, transforming the vigil into a march

~21:00

People joined the march as we went, it wasn’t long before we had taken over the whole street. It was surreal, walking through the middle of the city, people waving flags and shouting, “Glory to Ukraine!” All to the backdrop of Ukrainian music.

Here is a list of the songs played during the march:

The Ukrainian National Anthem

This one speaks for itself.

 

Kalush Orchestra: Stefania 

This song won Eurovision in 2022 and was a favorite at the Ukrainian refugee center where I worked. 

 

The Kiffness: Oy U Luzi Chervona Kalyna

Everyone with internet knows this song by now.

 

BOTASHE: PNH 

The first line of the chorus is; “Russian warship, would you go fuck yourself.” Which made it a cathartic song to sing/shout as we marched. 

 

Okean Elzy: Bez Boyu

This song came out in 2005, but it and the band are still relevant today. The name translates to, “Without a Fight,” and its chorus has the line, “I won’t give up without a fight.”

In between songs, we were led in a combination of Georgian and Ukrainian chants.

The Classics:

Someone shouts: Слава Україні! (Slava Ukraini!) – Glory to Ukraine    

The crowd responds: Героям слава! (Heroiam slava!) – To the Heroes – Glory

~

The Russians in the march made their voices heard shouting:

Путин хуйло́ (Putin Huylo) – Which translates to: Putin is a dickhead. But when people say it they mean, Fuck Putin!

~

The Georgian Chants: 

გამარჯვება უკრაინას (Gamarjveba Uk’rainas) – Victory to Ukraine

გამარჯვება საქართველო (Gamarjveba Sakartvelo) – Victory to Georgia  

Someone shouts: Gau-mar! 

The crowd responds: Jos!

Put together they are saying: გაუმარჯოს (GAUMARJOS!) – To Victory!

~22:15

The sky was a deep blue. Fat white flakes of snow fell on our heads and shoulders. As we passed, apartment windows and doors were thrown open. People, silhouetted in warm light, waved and called down to us. Parents held up small children. Young people leaned out of windows and off railings, pumping their fists in the air and shouting along with the chants. Elderly women, wrapped in shawls, waved Georgian and Ukrainian flags from their balconies. In return, I held up Aleko’s name.

After hours of walking, we reached our destination: Parliament. Georgian protesters had already taken over the road in front of the building, as they had done for the last 90 days. They greeted our procession with shouts of welcome and the two movements merged into one.

Along the steps of Parliament, Ukrainian demonstrators stood in two rows. Each person had a large sign hanging around their neck. I moved closer to read them. The signs bore the names of Ukrainian cities.

Nearby, two Georgian girls held up posters as large as them with Ukrainian script: Дякую Україно (Thank you, Ukraine). This sentiment had been repeated throughout the day. Georgians and Moldovans, in particular, thanked Ukraine for resisting Russian aggression, which threatens them all.

A few more speeches were given, and candles were lit. But by then, I was so cold I couldn’t tell if I was emotional or just experiencing the pain of exposure. Either way, it seemed like a good time to head home.

~23:30

I curled up on the couch under a blanket with my second mug of tea. It had taken a hot shower and a brandy-spiked tea to restore me to my normal coloring. My tolerance for the cold is embarrassingly low.

As I recovered normal blood flow, I skimmed the news. The first article that caught my attention read: “US Allies With Russia Over Ukraine.”

The article was almost as bad as its headline. On the anniversary of the full-scale invasion. While Ukraine and its neighbors mourned the dead, the U.S. had voted against a resolution calling for Russia to leave Ukraine. I winced and kept reading.

The next article rehashed Trump’s comments about Zelenskyy and the raw mineral deal. It was jarring to see the U.S. act as if Ukraine owed it something—especially when compared to the behavior of countries that have contributed far more by GDP.

Poland, Finland, Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania have all outdone the US. They are not demanding repayment nor are they whining about expenditures. They are thanking Ukraine. They remember the cost and value of freedom. They know Ukraine is paying that price in blood.

The U.S. would do well to remember its own history and rhetoric: Freedom and liberty are worth sacrificing for.

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