“The past is never dead. It is not even past.”
They lie piled inside stone huts, the dead.
They are the men, women and children of Anatori village. They were ethnic Khevsuretis, a tough, warlike, and honor-bound mountain people reputed to be the descendants of wandering Crusaders. When did they die—200, 300, 500 years ago? Nobody knows. All that is told is that every soul perished—the village was erased. Wiped out. Today, its strange hut-like crypts built of grey rock dot the slopes of a high and remote river canyon in Georgia, near the wild frontier with Chechnya. Peer into the vaults’ portholes: skulls ...