Reading Coffee

Yesterday while conducting home visits I was invited to have my coffee read.

What would you have said if someone invited you to such an occasion?
“Of course, sure!!!”
I don’t drink coffee, but I have learned here to do so, because to not accept a coffee is an insult. After the first week I was tired of insulting people, so I said to myself, “Buck up buckaroo, and learn to drink coffee, if only for a short while“. I will deal with the withdrawal headaches when I return home.
The circumstance of my visiting Sulaberidze Soniya was a bit unusual even without the coffee reading. I had already eliminated Sula from our patient list.
Sula, 86 year old Russian woman living in Abkhazia, had not been home three previous times we tried to visit her. I told the team that if we go again and she is not home then we should eliminate her from the program. She can’t be vulnerable and frail if she is always “out and about”.
Inga, in her understanding way just replied, “please, before you make a final decision, see her once, then decide“. Inga knew something was wrong with Sula, not sure what, but she didn’t want me to make a rash decision. She is very clever, not to be completely put out by my direct manager-get-it-done-approach. She wants to make sure I am making the decisions, but she makes sure I make the right decision!!!!! I think all good assistants do the same. Make the boss seem smarter than she really is!!!
As it turned out, Sula was home yesterday. We arrived as we do with all the patients, unannounced, we just show up.

After greetings, we enter her house. Sula walks bent over at the waist. Kyphotic, like many individuals who have severe osteoporosis and arthritis, Sula can‘t stand up straight. She is shaped like an upside down L, instead of a normal I. She doesn’t seem to mind. It is what it is.
Sula worked during WWII in a munitions factory bending over and lifting heavy objects. She said she could not straighten her back after the war and has been walking like this for decades. Her husband was a General in the Russian army, they traveled a lot before the war. No children. He died in The War, WWII that is. She is bright, well traveled, a delightful hostess, even in her one room “home”. She was given a place to stay by neighbors. She sold her home several years ago, sent all the money to her brother in Armenia so he could arrange a place for her, a new home. (She is Armenian, married a Russian, lives in Abkhazia, has sister in USA - typical conglomeration of mixed cultures) She wanted to be close to family. Her neighbor gave her a room to stay in until she moved. She was planning to move to Armenia right before the war broke out in 1992. She has been unable to accomplish this since, because she needed a Russian passport. Abkhazians cannot leave Abkhazia via Georgia and that is the most direct route to Armenia. She obtained the passport finally last year (because she was born in Russia, she could apply for one). Sula is one of the fortunate ones who has obtained a Russian passport while living in Abkhazia. The advantage of a Russian passport is a large pension(around 3,000 rubble= 85 bucks), compared to the Abkhaz pension (100 ruble =3 bucks). Per Year.

Sula told us why she was not at home for the past month.

She needed to renew her Russian passport (annual requirement). She knew of the approaching expiration date on her passport. She did not have money to pay for the renewal so she requested funds from the Local Red Cross to help her to pay for the renewal. She was given sufficient funds, then became ill. She was in bed for 2 weeks. No one knew she was sick. When she was well she decided to get on a bus and go to Russia to renew her passport.
She arrived at the border only to discover she did not bring one of several documents that is required for renewal. She had to turn around and go home. She got the papers, went back to the border however, at the border she was not able to cross because her passport was now expired by two days. She explained the situation, but was told to go home and to send in the money and the documents to Moscow and she could pay a late fee and her passport would be renewed
And so, she did that.

Sula said she was distraught and decided she would to try to go to Armenia without her Russian passport. She would go through Georgia. It is very tricky for Abkhazians to go to Georgia, but she was going to try anyway. She arrived in Zugdidi, Georgia via bus and while getting out her money she accidentally dropped her Abkhazian identification. BIG MISTAKE. Georgians DO NOT WANT people to show or to HAVE Abkhazian identifications. Abkhazians are supposed to be Georgians. To show the ID is an insult. Abkhazia is a territory of Georgia, not an independent country where citizens have Identification Cards.
She did not mean to drop the ID , but she did and now she was in trouble. The militia took Sula to jail, for having an Abkhaz ID. She stayed in jail for three days, then was taken to a psychiatric floor of a “old-folks-home!!!!!!! She was told there were no beds other than in the psychiatric area. Sula is clear-headed, frail, kind and of NO threat to ANYONE. The militia felt that an old folks home was more fitting than jail, but now she was medicated with antipsychotic meds along with those who “needed“ them, and force to live with individuals with whom she had no ability to communicate. She had no recourse. She had no family to contact. She was doomed in this horrific place. She was innocently trying to go to Armenia to be with her family and was likely to spend her last days in a place worse than jail.
Sula decided she would commit suicide. After having been refused any opportunity to contact relatives in Armenia, she felt death was a better way to solve her dilemma than life in the psych ward. She announced her plan. Of course, that only confirmed she needed this level of care. The soldier who had arrested her came to see her, feeling guilty, I guess. She told him her plan. He told the Director of the Old Folks Home that he must take her to a government office to sign “some papers” . He said he would bring her back as soon as the papers were signed.
He then let Sula go. He said, “I cannot give you your Abkhaz ID back, but Go Lady, wherever you can and wherever you want to go, just GO“. And she did. She did not have enough money now to go to Yerivan, Armenia. Her money had been used in the “the home” to buy food. She was able to beg a bus ride back to the Abkhaz border. She had no Abkhazia ID, but the man at the border crossing recognized her and mercifully let her through the border.

When we saw Sula she had been home for 2 days. She was beyond grateful to see friendly faces. She was happy to be in her little room. She now regrets having sold her home, but she has no ability to reverse this decision. She must find a way to get to Armenia.
We will meet with the International Red Cross this coming week. They have a re-location program and should be able to assist Sula getting re-located to Yerivan, Armenia. She wants to wait to get her Russian passport, so she can leave Abkhazia legally through Russia. If you look on the map you will see how absurd this is. Russia is north of Abkhazia. Armenia is south. It would be like going through Denver to go from Los Angeles to San Francisco. ABSURD.

But on to the coffee reading.
While Sula was telling her tale, we sipped on coffee. After completing the coffee, and still telling the tale she quietly swirled the final contents of the coffee, and then turned the cup upside down.
Remember this is thick, muddy coffee. Turkish coffee. You drink only the top portion and leave the bottom one third. The bottom is just thick coffee grounds.
So in preparation for “the reading” she swirls the remaining coffee grounds, turns the cup upside down then lets it sit. My cup sat for 15 minutes.
We had now finished the tale, and were ready to leave. I thought perhaps she had forgotten all about the coffee reading. Inga had warned me, that “you never ask to have your coffee read”. One is invited to have their coffee read, at the invitation of the coffee reader. There are only a few coffee readers in any village or town. This is a rather special talent. It is like palm reading, fortune telling, future forecasting.
Sula, without announcement , picked up my coffee cup and began something like a chant. While telling her tale she had been animated. This was a different voice, a different space. She was a different person while reading my coffee. This was serious, this was sacred.

I shant tell you the content of the reading. I don’t think I should. Inga knows, because Inga knows everything. She translates for me. I was stunned. Sula has never met me. She never asked anything about me. I introduced myself and told her my name when we arrived, that‘s it. During the half hour we had been in her home we discussed only her mis-adventure. There is no way she could know the things about me she knows. The coffee told her.
Sula has a gift. Tears streamed down my face as she read the bottom of the cup. She twirled it around and around. She paused. She smiled. She never looked at me. She was almost in a trance.

It was yet another spiritual experience in this magical place. I have been offered secrets into my future.
God Bless Sula in what will no doubt be more adventures and mis-adventures that will bring her to her long awaited reunion with her people. God bless us all as we travel and reunion with our people.