Seagull

Before I came to Charleston SC, in September of '92, I lived on the shore of the Black Sea. My town of Sukhumi was one of the primer seaside resorts of the former Soviet Union. Summer lasted from May to October, and the city usually swelled with tourists, and habitual vacationers. The coast line beaches were packed with people, and restaurants were open sixteen hours a day. Kiosks on almost every corner sold natural spring water, usually prescribed by physicians for many health problems. Summer visitors could enjoy mud baths, water massage therapy, hikes in the Caucasus Mountains, or swimming lessons on public beaches. The city’s cultural center converged on the traffic free promenade, lining the shore line, which could be considered the downtown area. Theatres, hotels, restaurants and stores gave the feeling of everlasting vocation. Even the local population considered going to the seafront a holiday, usually dressed to the 'T', and ready to spend.

Small white seagulls flocked the embankment when storms were approaching, warning that the rain was coming a few hours before hand. People romanticized the birds there. You can still find the word чайка –(chaika) - seagull in Russia as a name of choice for a restaurant, a world class resort, a children’s camp, a white yacht, a limousine like car, and many other everyday things. There is even an up and coming pop star who calls herself the “Black Seagull.”

As alumni of a school baring the name of Vladimir Komarov - the first Soviet cosmonaut to die in space, we were taught quite a bit about the Soviet astronauts. The call sign of Valentina Tereshkova- the first woman in space incidentally was chaika. Growing up in a family of scientists who worked on sputniks still in space today, I naturally found Tereshkova to be a worthy roll model. It is in her honor that a line of women’s watches was produced and became quite popular in Soviet Union. Chaika watch was the first item I have purchased using stipend money earned for good grades at a junior conservatory I wasn’t destined to graduate due to immigration.

In his the play by Anton Chekhov Чайка (The Seagull), the bird represents an old soul that survives all living things on earth and holds the essence of the universe. Chekhov wrote his 'Seagull' in Yalta on the Black Sea shore, where he could see many white seagulls. Those birds often followed ships, or flocked the shore when people feed them, throwing scraps into the sea. Because of the geographical location of the Black Sea, as well as the lower concentration of salt in its waters, the seagulls that frequented it were those that preferred lakes and rivers rather then oceans. The Black Sea Seagulls did not come to shore and were respectful of people. I could almost say they knew their manners. Most likely they had some kind of instinct, or behavioral code that prevented them from pestering people.

Chekhov’s idea appealed to me. I found the bird beautiful, and symbolic of my homeland. I didn’t really think much about the American perspective when running out of ideas for an online name, I picked the <<BlackSeaSeagull>>. The emails I received in response to this nickname were very interesting.

“Excuse me, I just had to ask, why did you name yourself a Seagull? They are such loud, obnoxious, birds, and they destroy the beach. You can’t even relax anymore. They are predators, is that what you are? From the nick I also thought you are black.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said, I am not African- American, I am an immigrant from the Republic of Georgia on the Black Sea in Eastern Europe, and the gulls there are different.”

The answer seemed to stun the owner of that particular yahoo personals profile. I knew he would not comprehend anything about Chekhov, since he found me “too deep” after two other questions. I decided then and there to delete my profile from dating sites.

Next time I was on Folly Beach I observed the Seagulls of the Atlantic Coast. They were twice the size of the Black Sea Seagulls, and they were gray. They had no manners whatsoever, in fact I witnessed them tear though someone’s possessions while the person was swimming, and fight over a bag of chips that they scavenged in somebody’s belongings. The poor owner of the beach bag vandalized was afraid to come closer.

They seemed so different from the beautiful birds that liked to follow the day course boats, or simply soar above the sea, giving you the feeling that all is right in the world. The Black Sea Seagulls looked graceful. They seemed somehow lucky and untouchable; they were part of nature that seemed to live in harmony with people.

I ran straight into the center of the action towards the flock of birds stealing the chips. They soared into the air at the last second. The poor owner of the beach bag came running after me grabbing her possessions that were scattered in the sand. She looked scared to death and moved away from the chips in the sand. As soon as we were gone, the birds were back.

The event reminded me of an old chain e-mail I received years ago at work. There among the jokes about cubical rats, and nano-seconds was the definition of a “Seagull Manager”. It was a person who in a crisis situation would fly in, make a lot of noise, poop over everything and leave. That made no sense to me then. I was almost offended by this analogy of my beloved seagull. How could the perception of the same creature be so different across a mere ocean? Or is it simply time that made us so cynical, so sarcastic, and so unappreciative of the world around us?

The seagull analogy made perfect sense, however, once I had observed the birds on Folly Beach. And the stranger’s comment from the personals suddenly “clicked”. A number of personalities at work inevitably came into the view in the back of my mind. Some “Seagull Managers” surely resembled these particular seagulls. There sure are times when both people and birds seem to have no manors at all. I am absolutely sure, though, that this has nothing to do with geographical location or the size and variety of the bird.

Some birds among that mob of the flock were different from the rest. A small number of them were gracefully gliding above the ocean at the same time the majority was vandalizing the woman’s belongings. My memory of the Black Sea Seagulls could be nothing more than a childhood memory, and those are usually seen though rosy glasses. Yet as the Black Sea Seagull I was able to find those among the local flock who are not part of the mob.

A few days ago I have picked up a book by Richard Back called “Jonathan Livingston Seagull” and many things fell into place. There was a long time during my adaptation to this new environment when I thought, that most of the people here, just like most of the seagulls are simply a different breed, and that I will never really be part of their flock. But overtime I saw that there are seagulls and there are people on this particular beach, who strive for something higher then searching for food, and they come in all shapes colors and sizes.

I do not fancy myself anywhere close to Jonathan Seagull, or even his students, but I hope I am closer to freedom then some, and so are the few seagulls close to me.

This story therefore is a call to those seagulls who wish to fly and strive for further horizons together with me. I hope we can lead each other to some comprehension of our purpose on this earth, and benefit from our joint efforts.