Ketevan Vashagashvili: My Foremost Concern Was To Avoid Portraying Zhana As a Mere Victim of Her Circumstances

What happens when a homeless single mother sees no other way for her and her daughter to survive than to rent out her body as an incubator for families who cannot have children? Director Ketevan Vashagashvili offers an answer in the film “9-Month Contract”. The film was screened in Competition Programme - Documentary Film at the 31st Sarajevo Film Festival.

 

The way you build the story is really impressive, especially your use of close-ups and switching between outside and inside views. While the interiors are often framed and depict the inner life of the main character Zhana, the exteriors complement that picture with shots of misery, poverty and social alienation. What is the influence of the outside world on Zhana's inner world?

Zhana’s childhood is profoundly heartbreaking. The traumas she carries from her insecure upbringing, growing up without parents, living on the streets, and in orphanages, have followed her throughout her life, shaping her personality. When I first met her 13 years ago, she was living on the streets with her four-year-old daughter. Despite her youth, she was already a mother. Gaining Zhana’s trust proved challenging. During our conversations, I could feel the enormous wall that society, including myself, had built around orphans, "children of the street," as we referred to them in the 2000s, the very time Zhana was living on the streets. "Social alienation" is indeed the right term; I sensed how isolated we all were. It took years for me to prove to Zhana that I empathized with her and admired her for who she was and the strength she possessed. However, it was a lengthy process, filled with her doubts and my patience.

Georgian society has had limited information about the commercial surrogacy industry within the country. This lack of awareness may be a key reason for the silence surrounding the issue. For example, people often claim that surrogate mothers are "selling their own children" - their Georgian genes! This misconception arises from a lack of understanding, as surrogate mothers in Georgia are not genetically related to the child; they are merely carriers. Such remarks stigmatize these women and compel them to conceal their circumstances from society, friends, neighbours, and often even their families. The church's stance also significantly contributes to this stigma, making it even harder for surrogate mothers to bear, especially since a large segment of the Georgian population is religious.

Who protects them? I am pleased to note that some NGOs, particularly the Women’s Rights Organization  Sapari, are now involved in the cases of many international surrogate mothers currently having issues with the surrogacy agencies in Georgia. However, when Zhana faced problems due to the lack of a contract with the couple and sought help from NGO Sapari, she became the first surrogate mother ever to arrive there. Strange, isn’t it? This situation is also a direct result of the stigma they endure, which pushes them to hide their circumstances and renders these women more vulnerable.

It is evident that the surrogacy business has boomed in Georgia, highlighting the urgent need for more regulations to protect not only surrogate mothers but also their children and intended parents. All parties involved find themselves defenceless in this poorly regulated environment. First and foremost, the law should safeguard these women. Yet, as is often the case in Georgia, it is brave individuals who stand up for them.

For instance, in Zhana’s case, when we faced difficulties with her health and numerous hospitals refused to perform her C-section, the remarkable doctor Eka Tedozashvili agreed to take on the procedure. Without such individuals, surrogate mothers would be left to navigate this powerful international commercial surrogacy business alone. The imbalance of power is staggering; surrogate women appear as Davids facing Goliath.

Towards the end of the film, a turning point occurs in the relationship between mother and daughter. Elene tells her mother that the state of society is bad because mothers think they know what is best for their children, that they should dream their own dreams and that dreams must be big and magical. How different are today's Georgian teenage girls from their mothers, how much do they value education and independence?

This generational difference is starkly apparent in Georgia, especially given the current political climate and the protests that have been ongoing for several months, where we encountered our new generation face-to-face. Georgia is a traditional society; several decades ago, it was normal for parents to make decisions for their children, a norm accepted by both sides and society at large. Although education has always been valued in Georgia, regardless of gender, we had remarkable female chess players during the Soviet era, which helped dispel the myth that men are inherently smarter than women. Nonetheless, independence is a precious aspiration for this generation. For us millennials in Georgia, and for our parents, independence was primarily associated with our country's freedom, with many sacrificing their lives for it. In contrast, this generation has been born into an independent Georgia, which has made them freer, less sentimental, more rational, and more assertive than my generation and Zhana's. This breakthrough is both evident and appreciated.

The dialogue you mentioned between Zhana and Elene holds great significance for me. When I first filmed Zhana and Elene on the streets, the film aired on TV, prompting a social agency to seek Zhana to understand her situation. By the time we already located her, she was already in a rented apartment, thanks to the film, but they began questioning her ability to support Elene. Zhana requested that I accompany her to explain to them that she was a good mother and would never allow Elene to live in an orphanage. The thought of Elene in an orphanage was a nightmare for her. I stood by Zhana, of course. During Zhana’s surrogate pregnancies, traumatized and shocked, I often questioned whether I had acted correctly or if the social care system could have done more for Elene, potentially preventing Zhana from enduring the toll on her body. Yet in that moment, witnessing Elene stand so firmly for herself, I realized that she would never possess such strength without Zhana's unwavering love and the opportunities she provided for her education and independence.

My interest has always been in the interplay between motherhood and womanhood - whether harmony is possible between the two. Georgian women have always been incredibly strong and courageous. However, in many cases, the motherly instincts overshadow their individuality. In the 1990s, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, many women, primarily mothers, emigrated to developed countries to provide for their children. They rescued Georgia from despair, an act of bravery, but one that often entailed sacrificing their own identities as women for the sake of their families. I created a short film about these women living in various parts of the world. This still remains a pressing issue, especially in the regions of Georgia. Nevertheless, women are increasingly becoming aware of their needs and are stronger in advocating for their desires.

While creating "9-Month Contract", my foremost concern was to avoid portraying Zhana as a mere victim of her circumstances. She is an incredibly strong woman; her courage and personality inspired me to continue. I believe in her potential to achieve her goals and embrace everything life has to offer.