Armenian Genocide at 100: Forget-me-not

Obama reneges again on 2008 campaign promise to "recognize the Armenian Genocide" as president

Today, April 24, commemorates the 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide carried out by the “Young Turk” government of the Ottoman Empire in 1915-1916. One to one-and-a-half million Armenians were killed during the Armenian Genocide -- through wholesale massacres and deportations consisting of forced marches -- out of two-and-a-half million Armenians in the Ottoman Empire.

Over the past few years, I have commemorated the Armenian Genocide at Mich Café with testimonials by Armenian friends sharing what it means to them. I was about to do the same this year too when I fell across two illustrations that give hope and decided to share those instead.

The first is the beautiful forget-me-not, the official emblem of the 100th Year of Remembrance of the Genocide issued by the Republic of Armenia. The second is an illustration by my friend cartoonist Sareen Akharjalian on her webcomic, Ink on the Side.

The forget-me-not, illustrating the worldwide observance of the centennial, as explained by the Armenian Church, expresses the theme of eternal remembrance. It is also meant to symbolically evoke the past, present and future experiences of the Armenian people.

The past: The black center represents the sufferings of 1915, and the dark aftermath of the Armenian Genocide.

The present: The light purple petals represent the unity of Armenian communities across the world -- all of whom stand together in this 100th year of remembrance.

The future: The five petals represent the five continents where survivors of the Armenian Genocide found a new home. The dark purple color is meant to recall the priestly vestments of the Armenian Church -- which has been, is, and will remain at the heart of the Armenian Christian identity.

Eternity: The 12 trapezoids represent the twelve pillars of the Dzidzernagapert Armenian Genocide memorial in Yerevan, Armenia. Yellow represents light, creativity, and hope.

Today, Armenians can be found in every corner of the globe, creating a Diaspora population of about three million. All over the world, they commemorate the tragedy on April 24, the day in 1915 when 250-300 Armenian leaders, writers, thinkers and professionals in Constantinople, present-day Istanbul, were rounded up, deported and killed. The Ottoman military then uprooted Armenians from their homes and forced them to march for hundreds of miles, depriving them of food and water, to the desert of what is now Syria.

Since then, the pomegranate was adopted as a symbol for Armenians. The narrative is that during the 1915 Genocide and exodus, pomegranate was the only food mothers could find to feed their offspring. Those marching could also count the days with the pomegranate seeds. It is said that each fruit, however big or small, holds 365 seeds!

The second illustration is by Sareen Akharjalian on her webcomic Ink on the Side, which is awaited online every Monday morning to brighten up the week.

With Mount Ararat in the distance, Sareen wrote:  “I pray that we’ll have our day for a fair trial.”

Sareen (@sareen_ak) who is a programmer and software developer by day and a cartoonist by night also quotes the great Armenian-American writer William Saroyan: “I should like to see any power of the world destroy this race, this small tribe of unimportant people, whose wars have all been fought and lost, whose structures have crumbled, literature is unread, music is unheard, and prayers are no more answered. Go ahead, destroy Armenia. See if you can do it. Send them into the desert without bread or water. Burn their homes and churches. Then see if they will not laugh, sing and pray again. For when two of them meet anywhere in the world, see if they will not create a New Armenia.”

And yet, 100 years on, U.S. President Barack Obama, wary of damaging relations with Turkey amid growing unrest in the Middle East, won't use the centennial of the massacre to declare the brutal episode genocide.

Despite his campaign promise in 2008 to "recognize the Armenian Genocide" as president, the White House on April 21 issued a carefully worded statement on a high-level administration meeting with Armenian groups that avoided using the term "genocide."

An administration official said Obama, who will mark the centennial today, would similarly avoid using the word. "We know and respect that there are some who are hoping to hear different language this year," the official said. "We understand their perspective, even as we believe that the approach we have taken in previous years remains the right one -- both for acknowledging the past, and for our ability to work with regional partners to save lives in the present."

"President Obama's surrender to Turkey represents a national disgrace. It is, very simply, a betrayal of truth, a betrayal of trust," said Ken Hachikian, the chairman of the Armenian National Committee of America.

Even some of Obama's allies decried the decision. California Rep. Adam Schiff, the Democratic leader of the House Intelligence Committee, said he was "deeply disappointed" by the decision to avoid the word genocide.

"How long must the victims and their families wait before our nation has the courage to confront Turkey with the truth about the murderous past of the Ottoman Empire?" Schiff wrote in a statement. "If not this President, who spoke so eloquently and passionately about recognition in the past, whom? If not after 100 years, when?"

When, indeed!

At a service in Rome on April 12, Pope Francis used "genocide" to describe what happened a century ago. In response, Turkish Foreign Minister Mevlüt Çavuşoğlu recalled the ambassador to the Holy See for "consultations."

Related posts:

Armenian Genocide: Echoes of the dream -- April 24, 2013

 Armenian Genocide: Lest we forget -- April 24, 2012

Armenian Genocide: A tear a day -- Apr 24, 2011

Armenian Genocide: Echoes of the dream

The Armenian Genocide Memorial in Yerevan, Armenia, and Bikfaya, Lebanon (inset) by Shant Demirdjian

Today -- April 24 -- commemorates the Armenian Genocide committed in 1915-1916 by the Ottoman Empire’s “Young Turk” government.

Mich Café commemorates the Genocide with testimony of what the day means to those who survived and their offspring.

This year, I chose to cede the Mich Café platform to the young generation of Armenian college students, allowing them to express in their own words what the day means to them.

They are in their late teens at Levon & Sophia Hagopian College.

The college was founded in 1964 in the heart of Bourj Hammoud in Beirut, Lebanon.  Its slogan is “work ennobles.”

It has 195 students under Principal Vicken Avakian and 35 teachers. The college follows the official Lebanese government curriculum, supplemented by the educational plan of the Armenian National Schools.

My friend Shant Demirdjian (@ShantDotMe), who featured in Mich Café’s commemoration last year, teaches computer science at Levon & Sophia and helped me get testimonies from four students.

Shant is also a web developer and a photographer in his spare time. His pictures of Armenia can  be viewed at his blog site, Shant.me – My Photo Blog.

Ninety-eight years on, the Armenian Genocide is still a subject matter that hits a raw nerve with Armenians worldwide.

Roughly half the Ottoman Empire’s 2,500,000 Armenians were killed during the Armenian Genocide through wholesale massacres and deportations by dint of forced marches.

Armenians around the globe commemorate the tragedy on April 24, the day in 1915 when 250-300 Armenian leaders, writers, thinkers and professionals in Constantinople – the present-day Istanbul -- were rounded up, deported and killed.

The Ottoman military at that time uprooted Armenians from their homes and forced them to march for hundreds of miles, without food or water, to the desert of what is now Syria.

Since then, the pomegranate was adopted as a symbol for Armenians.

The narrative is that during the 1915 Genocide and exodus, pomegranate was the only food mothers could find to feed their offspring. Those marching could also count the days with the pomegranate seeds. It is said that each fruit, however big or small, holds 365 seeds!  

So how does the young generation feel about the Genocide?

Gashavan in Dilijan, Hribsime Church and Noravank Monastary in Armenia. Photos by Liliane Assaf

J.H. – Technical Baccalaureate, 3rd year (12th grade technical or BT3)

The Armenian Genocide is not a simple issue that has preoccupied us. It is a collective Armenian feeling. Actually, it is the root of our existence. The grief will never disappear.

Put yourself in our ancestors’ shoes: your life is swept away, your loved ones are slaughtered in front of your eyes and all your dreams are crushed.

What is left is to pick up the pieces and create a new life -- one that is the reason of my existence.

Now, my duty is to honor the memory of those killed during the Genocide and be their voice, lost among the shadows of death.

Our ancestors had a dream, a hope to continue existing. We are the echoes of that dream.

Marita Bardakjian -- Technical Baccalaureate, 3rd year (BT3)

The Genocide was once a nightmare to those who had to suffer the monstrous tortures of the Ottoman Empire. Today, it separates us from all other nations.

We have been reborn from the sand and the darkness where our blood was shed.

A price has to be paid, and someday we will reclaim what was rightfully ours because those who have been in total darkness will not give up after seeing the light.

A pomegranate tree overlooking Lake Sevan, Armenia. Photo by Liliane Assaf

Hratch – Secondary 2nd class (11th grade or SEC II)

Silence behind the gates of destiny is louder than our scream.

It is said that every individual's destiny is written. Written by whom: By the man in the sky, or by the bearded one?

Was it our destiny to be slaughtered and killed? Or was it pure coincidence that 1.5 million people faced the same destiny?

We screamed, we prayed… but the prayers went unanswered.

We were thrown out from our lands; we saw our houses burnt to the ground. And still… there was no answer from heaven.

Where was the world when our children begged to see their mothers one last time?

Where was humanity when the evil Ottomans were burning our churches with our people inside praying for mercy, not from their persecutors, but from our Maker, who chose not to be on our side?

Nancy – Secondary 2nd class (11th grade or SEC II)

It is not merely the tradition, language, mentality, culture or lifestyle that makes us, Armenians, different. Yet our determination and consciousness of whom we are does put an analogy with the rest.

Years, decades and centuries will not be virtuous enough to wipe out our people’s will and a century is not enough to let our anguish fade away.

Ninety-eight years isn’t threatening; it won’t make us oblivious of the “inhumane deeds” meted on us. Instead, we will reconstruct our root and anchor.

No massacre or genocide can eradicate people like us.

We fight back through our mentality, not by butchery.

Related posts:

Armenian Genocide: A tear a day -- April 24, 2011

Armenian Genocide: Lest we forget -- April 24, 2012

‘We are still the mountain’ – The Boston Globe, April 14, 2013

Traditional Armenian Dresses – Mher Krikorian’s Facebook

Armenian artist Galentz at Beirut Souks

Armenian artist Haroutin Galentz (Հարություն Կալենց) 

I am not much into art, unfortunately, despite a brother-in-law who was a painter and my avant-garde sister, Asma. But I tagged along with Asma and my friends Zepure and Yorki on Sunday (November 18) to a retrospective of the works of Armenian painter Haroutin Galentz at Beirut Souks.

Zepure grew up with the family in Tripoli, Lebanon, and was eager to see the exhibit and was also rewarded by a meeting with the painter’s son, Armen, who is in charge of the exhibit while it is in Beirut.

The retrospective is part of a travelling exhibition starting in Beirut before setting off to France and the U.S. next year.

It is being held at The Venue in Beirut Souks under the patronage of the Ministries of Culture of Armenia and Lebanon. It is sponsored by the Ministry of Culture of Armenia and organized by the Galentz Museum and Solidere in association with the Armenian Embassy in Beirut.

The retrospective, titled Two Lives, is the first by the Armenian painter. It offers a rare view of Galentz’ earliest drawings and covers the Lebanon 1930s and 1940s chapter, the Armenian period of the late 1960s and the connection between them.

Seashore Beirut - 1925 (oil on cardboard)

Armenia’s Minister of Culture Hasmik Poghosyan writes in a foreword of the exhibit’s catalogue: “…Haroutiun Galentz was one of those great and authentic artists against whom neither Turkish persecutors nor the Soviet authoritarian and tyrannical regime could fight. Moreover, those awful human and creative conditions gave birth to the incomparable art of Galentz, which had its great influence on the esthetical taste of the forthcoming generations…”

Wedding -- 1938 (gouache on paper, Galentz Museum)

Much of the details on the artist are from a chat with Armen Galentz and Alice Nersisyan of the Institute of Fine Arts and the National Academy of Sciences in Armenia and from the catalogue on sale at the exhibit.

The works on display include:

• the early works of the artist dated 1926-1946 – the Lebanon period. There are bas-reliefs, sketches, caricatures, water colors, prints and oil paintings;
• the bas-reliefs hall features those presented at the Lebanon pavilion at the World Expo in New York in 1933, among them the impressive and timeless seven-meter “Crafts of Lebanon.” Galentz was then awarded the Honorary Diploma of the High Commissioner of the Republic of Lebanon and the board of directors of the New York World Expo;
• the 1942-1945 caricatures and posters showed for the first time. They were created for the French newspaper “En Route,” published during World War II; and
• oil paintings from the Galentz Museum collection and some canvas from private collections in Beirut and Moscow.

Armen with 1959 oil on canvas of botanist Nora Gabrielian 

Galentz was born on Easter night -- March 27, 1910 -- in the small town of Gurun, in Sebastia vilayet of the Ottoman Empire, present day Turkey.

His father, Tiratur, owned a wool-dying factory, which left a profound impression on young Galentz with its vats of bright colors. The family was rather well off and the first five years of his life were those of a happy childhood.

In 1915, during the Armenian Genocide, Galentz’ father was arrested by Turkish soldiers. He was never seen again. Galentz, his three brothers and mother joined the March and escaped to Aleppo. A few days after their arduous trek into the Syrian city, Galentz’ mother died of starvation and fatigue. Galentz would later describe it as “the death march through the desert, with sore and bloody feet, in tattered clothes, famished, miserable and barely alive…”

Garbage collectors -- 1926 (pencil on paper, Galentz Museum)

Galentz and his three brothers were sent to an orphanage for Armenian children. After the first three years, he left the orphanage and settled with his paternal uncle and became an apprentice at a calligrapher’s shop. He cultivated his passion for art and was encouraged by one of the orphanage sisters. He often escaped the orphanage to roam around the Aleppo markets and paint.

Galentz says Onnig Avedissian, an Armenian artist who for a couple of months taught the 13-year-old boy the basics of painting, was his only teacher.

In 1927, the artist moved to Tripoli, Lebanon, where his two older brothers then lived. There he met French artist Claude Michulet, his teacher at the Beirut Academy of Fine Arts, where he taught painting until 1939. They were devoted friends until Michulet’s death in 1942.

Kurdish women -- oil on canvas, Galentz Museum

In 1930, Galentz settled in Beirut. He contributed to Beirut’s artistic life, held solo exhibitions and received commissions from companies and individuals, which culminated in the bas-reliefs for the 1933 World Expo.

In 1938, he took into apprenticeship Armine Paronyan. They married in 1943. Armine became a prominent Armenian painter alongside her husband. They had a son, Armen, who I met at the exhibit.

But in 1946, despite his growing success in Beirut, Galentz decided to return to Armenia as soon as Diaspora Armenians were able to repatriate.

The first 10 years in his motherland were difficult and challenging. After being feted and recognized in Lebanon, the family received a plot of land on a rocky hill outside the city and Galentz had to build his own house. He found himself among hostile locals for whom the repatriates were strangers. He also had no clue about the Soviet reality. He was lonesome and poor.

Self-portrait with pipe -- 1942, Galentz Museum)

For many years, he had to make a modest living from occasional commissions and working for himself in his studio. He had no solo exhibition. Between 1946 and 1949 his works were exhibited only twice. The Union of Artists deemed his paintings formalistic and cosmopolitan and they called him a Western artist – labels which were akin to a death sentence under Stalin. He was expelled from the Union of Artists but readmitted in 1951.

His life changed in 1956 when famous physicist Artem Alikhanian, a prominent and influential founder of Armenia’s schools of physics, became a devoted friend, patron, admirer and relentless promoter of his art.

His only solo exhibition during his lifetime took place in 1962 at the Union of Artists in Armenia. Solitude and oblivion gave way to vivid interest in the unique artist. His paintings, studio and home became the center of gravity for creative people. Among his closest friends were Eleonora Gabrielian, a biologist; Levon Mkrtchian, a philologist; and Hayk Vardanian, a scriptwriter. Scientists, authors, actors, art critics from all over the Soviet Union and other parts of the world visited him.

In May 1967, at his artistic peak, Galentz died of a heart attack on a bright sunny day. He was posthumously awarded Armenia’s State Prize in 1967.

Galentz’ house in Yerevan is now a museum. His paintings are also in the collections of National Museum of Armenia (Yerevan), Republic of Armenia’s Cultural Ministry as well as private collections in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Tbilisi, New York, Paris, Vienna, Beirut, Aleppo, Cambridge, San Francisco, Los Angeles to list a few.

In 2010, Galentz’ renovated museum opened its doors in Yerevan to celebrate his centennial and I heard much about it from my cousin Lillian who had recently visited Armenia.

If you are in Beirut, I strongly recommend you spare an hour to go down to Beirut Souks and visit the exhibition. It is touching, compelling but soothing, vibrant and extremely impressive. You won’t regret it.

You can view more of the artists pictures at the exhibition here.

Armenian Genocide: Lest we forget

Poster by Naeema Zarif

Ninety-seven years since, the Armenian Genocide is still a topic that hits a raw nerve with Armenians worldwide.

Today, April 24, commemorates the Armenian Genocide committed in 1915-1916 by the Ottoman Empire’s “Young Turk” government.

Roughly half the Ottoman Empire’s 2,500,000 Armenians were killed during the Armenian Genocide through wholesale massacres and deportations by dint of forced marches.

Armenians around the globe commemorate the tragedy on April 24, the day in 1915 when 250-300 Armenian leaders, writers, thinkers and professionals in Constantinople -- present-day Istanbul -- were rounded up, deported and killed. The Ottoman military at that time uprooted Armenians from their homes and forced them to march for hundreds of miles, without food or water, to the desert of what is now Syria.

Since then, the pomegranate was adopted as a symbol for Armenians. The narrative is that during the 1915 Genocide and exodus, pomegranate was the only food mothers could find to feed their offspring. Those marching could also count the days with the pomegranate seeds. It is that each fruit, however big or small, holds 365 seeds!

As I did last year, I asked two Armenian friends -- Shant Demirdjian and Sareen Akharjalian, who both live in Beirut, Lebanon -- to contribute their thoughts on the day for Mich Café:

Which Genocide?

By Shant Demirdjian*

Let me be a bit more precise, which Armenian Genocide? No, no… It’s not just one; it’s not two or even three or four!! Which one should I talk about?

Murdering an Armenian journalist who dares to be “Armenian”?

Or should I write about the uprooting of more than two million Armenians from their homeland and the massacre of some 1.5 million in the deserts of Syria?

Need I dwell on disallowing the placement of the Holy Cross on a “restored” Armenian church in Van? Or even worse, turning churches into caves, restaurants and farms?

Or what about the vandalism of Armenian architecture -- churches, tombstones, Khatchkars (cross stone) -- over and over again, everywhere in Occupied Armenia, Nakhchivan and in all places “their” hand could reach?

[The Armenian Khatchar cross, often made in obsidian, has two triple loops on each arm of the cross. It rarely has a crucifix but rather a rosette or a solar disc below it and the remainder is filled with patterns of leaves, grapes, pomegranates or abstracts. UNESCO last year declared the Armenian Khatchkar an intangible cultural heritage in need of urgent safeguarding.]

Which Genocide?

When people talk about the Armenian Genocide they usually consider the latter, the one that started on the night of April 24, 1915, with the capture, murder and deportation of the Armenian elite -- teachers, writers, revolutionaries, who where the first to “go.” The strategy was to make the Armenians “headless.”

But it didn’t stop there. It didn’t stop even after the vast majority of Armenians were moved from their homeland and driven to the deserts of Syria… just to let them perish there from hunger, starvation and Ottoman brutality.

The sad thing is that the outrage hasn’t stopped! The assassination of Armenian journalist Hrant Dink and not allowing a cross to be erected on an Armenian Church… only happened a few years ago.

The destruction of the Armenian Heritage is still continuing as you read this! For me, this is the “Armenian Genocide.”

Nonetheless, we survived. We survived and doomed that brutal appetite of mass murder.

We survived and made others talk about the “Armenian Genocide” in Turkey.

We survived and spread our Heritage around the globe.

We survived and turned April 24 into the Day of Survival.

*Shant Demirdjian (@ShantDotMe) is a web developer and teacher. He is a photographer in his spare time and his work can be viewed at his blog, Shant.me – My Photo Blog.

Struggles and Triumphs

By Sareen Akharjalian*

When people ask me about the Armenian Genocide and what I know about it, I don't usually talk about the massacres of entire Armenian villages.

I don't usually talk about the starvation, the rape and the murder Armenians had to face when forcibly evicted and marched into the harsh deserts of Syria.

I don't talk about the massacres and brutal killings of prominent Armenian figures on April 24, 1915.

I tell the story of my grandfather, Arsen Akharjalian. 

My grandfather, God rest his soul, grew up in a village called Yozgat in Turkey. The sad thing is there isn't really much he could tell us about his family in Turkey. You see, his father and uncles were forced into battle and his mother was killed while he was still a very young child -- barely old enough to speak. 

Dédé Arsen

Arsen Akharjalian’s family at the time included 10 brothers and sisters. In the confusion and utter chaos, the family was split up. Some were sent to different parts of Turkey, others, including my grandfather, his sister and older brother were saved by European missionaries and sent to an orphanage in Syria. Their trip to Syria was long and harsh, with no water, no food, and only stories of Armenian killings that had taken place in Deir ez-Zor to go by. It's a wonder they survived. 

They finally reached their destination: an orphanage in Aleppo. But the orphanage was so overcrowded, the children had to be split up once more. His older brother remained in Syria, and my grandfather and his sister were sent to the famous Birds Nest Armenian Orphanage in Jbeil, Lebanon -- which still operates to this day. There, Dédé Arsen learned basic crafts. He became a shoe mender. And by some miracle, he was able to overcome his hideous past and have a family and children.

How do I commemorate the Armenian Genocide?

By remembering my grandfather's immense struggles and triumphs despite these dark times in history. 

*Sareen Akharjalian (@sareen_ak) is a programmer and software developer by day and a cartoonist by night. Her two-year-old webcomic, Ink on the Side, is awaited online every Monday morning to brighten up the week.

Related post:

Armenian Genocide: A tear a day – 24 April 2011

Armenian Genocide: A tear a day

By Naeema Zarif (naeemazarif.com)

The Armenian Genocide is not something I usually talk about casually with my Armenian friends. Ninety-six years since, it is still a subject that hits a raw nerve and I am never sure it is the right time to inquire deeper.

Today, April 24, commemorates the Armenian Genocide carried out by the “Young Turk” government of the Ottoman Empire in 1915-1916. One to one-and-a-half million Armenians were killed during the Armenian Genocide – through wholesale massacres and deportations consisting of forced marches -- out of two-and-a-half million Armenians in the Ottoman Empire.

Armenians all over the world commemorate the tragedy on April 24, the day in 1915 when 250-300 Armenian leaders, writers, thinkers and professionals in Constantinople, present-day Istanbul, were rounded up, deported and killed. The Ottoman military then uprooted Armenians from their homes and forced them to march for hundreds of miles, depriving them of food and water, to the desert of what is now Syria.

It is unfortunate that this year the remembrance falls on the same day as Easter. Being in Beirut, the subject of the Genocide came up a couple of days ago with my best friend and soul mate Zepure Hamparian Mansour and another friend, Marlen Salbashian. It is something we have never discussed, even after 36 years of friendship. I asked both friends to contribute their thoughts on the day, for Mich Café.

It wasn’t easy for either, but here is what each had to say:

Zepure Hamparian Mansour:*

Commemorating the Armenian Genocide is always linked with my grandmother, one of the survivors.

Haiganoush, Haigo to us, was a young widow when she was forced to leave her home in Erzurum and begin the long march to Syria. She had two children: Hasmig, nine; and three-year-old Arpine (my mother). My grandfather, Dikran, had passed away before the deportation. I remember Haigo telling me how lucky he was to have died of Typhus rather than be slaughtered by the Turks.

Haigo, like thousands of Armenians, marched towards the unknown. But she and her two daughters were among the lucky ones who made it to Aleppo.

My mother Arpine, married another survivor, Garo, and they settled in Tripoli, north Lebanon. Hasmig remained in Aleppo. Haigo shuttled between her two daughters. She spent her last years and died in Tripoli.

Zepure in the arms of her grandmother Haigo, Arpine, Garo and her siblings

As a little girl, coming home from school to find Haigo visiting from Aleppo always made me ecstatic. My homework was done quickly so I could sit next to her, cuddle her and listen to her fairy tales. Whatever the story, she would always end talking about the deportation.

I was still young. The words massacre, rape, hunger, deportation, refugee camps… meant nothing to me. Haigo would describe every single detail as if it had happened the day before. Her memory was so vivid and she relived every moment while recounting all the stories.

I still remember her telling me she had some gold coins (called Osmalieh) saved and how she had to use them, on the deportation march, to pay for a loaf of bread the Turkish soldiers would sometimes trade off.

It has always been a mystery to me how Haigo and her daughters survived. Was it luck? Were my mother and aunt too young to be snatched away?

When they finally made it to Aleppo, my grandmother found a room in an old house. She said it had a fountain in a central court with the rooms all around. A couple of years ago, on a visit to Aleppo, we were invited to a trendy restaurant called Sissi House. The minute I walked in, it was just as Haigo described her lodgings. All these old houses are now boutique hotels and restaurants to wipe out the memory of the misery of the thousands who used to live there.

One of the most poignant stories I remember Haigo telling me is how, every morning, she filled a big pot with water and pretended to be cooking something. She was doing some embroidery for the Immaculate Conception nuns. Hasmig was in school and my mother played in the courtyard with the other toddlers. But one day, a curious child removed the lid and told everyone that Arpine’s mother was only boiling water. Haigo had too much pride to show anyone her misery.

My grandmother was special to me. As a child, I’d ask her why my ears were so big. She would say: “Look at my ears, look at your mother’s ears. We all have big ears. Intelligent people have big ears.” And it’s true that Haigo was an intelligent, confident and strong woman. She was a survivor.

Haigo, my cherished grandmother: your husband Dikran’s wedding ring with your names engraved on the band is now on my beloved husband Yorki’s finger. Haigo, you are with us forever.

*Zepure is the Program Coordinator, Radiologic Technology Training Program, American University of Beirut Medical Center

Marlen Salbashian*:

Imagine…

You’re walking under the Syrian Desert sun.  You are cradling a one-week old baby girl in your arms. While trying to shield her from the burning sun, you’re trying to hold on to the hand of your 12-year-old daughter. 

What will you do if she is killed in front of your eyes? 

You still haven’t wiped away the image of your three other daughters, raped and slaughtered in their own beds by the vicious Turks. You still haven’t found the tears to mourn them. Dehydration has left your eyes tearless. 

Then you remember your elder son, your only son, beheaded, just because…

Imagine…

Marlen Salbashian

The baby starts crying. You have no more milk in your breasts to feed her, your heart aches and you feel the child’s pain crippling you. You feel helpless but will do anything just to give her some comfort. But what?

Suddenly, you brother-in-law is by your side. He looks at the child. With a decisive voice he orders you to leave the baby in the middle of the desert. You can’t even imagine doing something like that, but calmly he explains: If you walk through the desert with the child in your arms, she will die of starvation. But if you leave her in the desert, there is a slight chance some Arab nomads might find her and give her a home.

Imagine…

How can he say something like that? This is your daughter, you’ve carried her in your womb for nine months, you’ve given birth to her, and you love her. 

You love her. That’s the keyword. You love her and have to leave her; leave her to coyotes, or some good-hearted Arabs, whichever comes first. But then at least she would have a chance.

Imagine… 

That’s how my aunt was left in the desert. 

My grandmother lived till the age of 92. Not a day passed without her shedding a tear for this daughter, whose fate is still unknown. 

And today, after 96 years, I still shed a tear a day for my aunt.

*Marlen is Assistant Coordinator, Radiologic Technology Training Program & Radiation Safety Program of Diagnostic Radiology at the American University of Beirut Medical Center