Remembering Your Birthday with Appreciation, Praise, Tender Loving Care, and Love

Remembering your birthday with appreciation, praise, tender loving care, and love,

Your father and mother.

And my wish is that God would grant you long and very joyous days.

A memory, 1916 Ovsanna, ten years old, with her master tailor in 1916; and in 1965 again we went to New York, Boston and spent the night at her master's home. Such caring stories and feelings!

Dream or reality?

ALTERNATIVE VERSION: A memory, 1916

Ovsanna was ten years old when we visited her master tailor in 1916; and in 1965 we again went to New York, Boston and spent the night at the home of the master. Such caring stories and feelings!

Dream or reality?

Sweet licorice root, Potatoes, Onion layers -- a great deal of, Mushrooms, Mountain almonds, prickly tree... Sparrow-green flower -- very delicious "Blorig Yonja", which grows abundantly near the streams, and very delicious, "Goullek" green grass, They used to cook (the above) with cracked wheat Pilaf -- it was very delicious.

Wish it were a few years back in time; then my writing too would have been delicious to the reader.

Old age is hell because of merciless and savage people.1

1 Hampartzoum's childhood memories as a young boy of 7-8, gathering greens and flowers to delight family members as a treat of each season of the year... written 2-3 months before his passing in May of 2003! Visions of his cherished childhood would not stop! 3

In the Armenian Protestant church hall, Kaspar (my twin) grouped with the little ones, and I with the larger ones.

Whence I met Korr (blind Turk) Mamoe: Desperate for news; Appalled at the river bank... the beheaded.

The holy place (orphanage): An orphanage and a Catholicos in unison with my religion.

This saintly name written within my heart (Archbishop Kud) Mkhitarian, a helpful soul.

A helpful soul commensurate with "my father."

Likewise, Archbishop Nerses Melik-Tankian in Tavriz, who, successfully dealt with 20 thousand refugees, unlike other dithering clergy.

... German orphanage: one child starving, one child fainted.2

2 To his last breath, Hampartzoum continued to write...the torment mingled with the solace: an irreconcilable anguish. 4

We are the brave children of Dalvorig, We do not bow in front of the Turks. Our eyes have never looked upon the plough-haft or the plough. Let us unite and forge ahead, Let us shore up Tashnagtzoutioun.

I AM ONE OF THE SURVIVORS OF THE TURKISH ATROCITIES 1915

I never did forget - 6 years as a slave.

Whoever hides an Armenian will be thrown to jail for five years with a chain around his neck.

Those Armenians who read this statement wished to turn into a mouse and hide in a hole in order to survive.

I am one of the survivors of the Turkish Atrocities in 1915. I never forgot that I was a slave for 6 years.

When the town crier was shouting this, you wished you turned into a mouse and found a hole and disappeared into it:

"Whoever harbors an Armenian, Will get five years under lock and chain."

Turkish sayings:

The offsprings of Armenians growing up enter the ground.

May the last thought of an Armenian be mine.

Now, the son of an Armenian Gyavour is here. The mind of the Armenian says "Don't do it." When you find a person standing in front of you, and if you want to do something, do something good and throw it in the water. The fish won't know, but Khalekh would.

My father was an artisan -- a chitji, who performed the difficult job of printing and decorating fabric. We, brothers, gladly helped him out. There was a lot of fabric. We used to take them to the river, which wasn't very far, and then washed, tinted and dried them. The chore of making food fell on my mother, while my aunts and sisters took care of our clothing needs. Where we 7

were, there was very little fabric or cloth that came from the outside. Most households performed every step locally: to purchase cotton, to spin in order to make threads, to weave cloth, to cut and sew clothes and linen. Similarly, we spun wool for socks and sweaters. My aunt performed all the following chores: washing, bathing others, cleaning the house. They only bought fabric (from abroad) to make clothes for the women. There was so little of it that they took great care so that the clothes didn't wear out fast.

We had an orchard where we dried mulberries and made syrups and dried-preserves (bastekh) with them. Similarly, we made raisins and wine from the grapes. My elder brothers took care of the vineyard -- and after they were gone, I did. We had a Tonir (hole-in-the-earth oven) at home. They used to bake bread for two days. Whenever a client came, it was customary to lay out a table full of bread, yogurt, tahn, etc. And when the guest came at night, they used to give them a bed, and if he were wet, they used to dry him. There was no tradition of restaurants. They consider the guest the pride of the home.

With the emotions of a survivor: To Jackie, a friend of my beloved daughter,

Kind, humble Jackie... 8

You owe me a great deal, How are you going to pay? With genuine love and kisses, And by singing with your precious voice.

My wish is to hear your voice over my grave, So that I may take it with me.

Continue to remain like twin sisters with my Zarug. I wish the two of you Happy Days.

Hampartzoum Chitjian, February 16, 1986.

Henry Kurkjian

I swear in front of 40 witnesses, the One God plus the 39 sacred letters (of the Armenian alphabet), that I will be a good husband to Jackie. Henry Kurkjian

Remember when it was written and read it emotionally. November 26, 1972

The only way to a solid marriage, the proverbs says, is not to be like a hatchet which always points toward you, but to be like a saw, which goes equally toward you and toward us.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

You enjoyed great days with her; keep this in place of the Holy Book.

On the day of this marriage ceremony, the gift of God poured over our dining table, when I saw happy faces all around -- my daughter Zarug already a school teacher, and also Jackie -- these two treat each other with love and respect, like twin sisters. She will join with an honorable, kind, and humble young man, promising to form a humble family. It was a happy day for me.

WHO, WHO?

When I go to sleep in the evening, Who guards over me without sleep? Who smiles when I wake up...? -- My dear mother.

Who would sacrifice her soul for me? Worries, pain and trouble Who bears them all for me...? -- My dear mother.

When I return home from school, Who gives me a palm-full of Raisins, nuts and delicious almonds? -- My dear mother.

The meaning of this monument is that it arouses memories of a sad past.

(In response to Governor Deukmejian's letter severing his ties with the Armenian National Committee for supporting Clinton's candidacy and not Bob Dole's, Hampartzoum writes:)

"That's all we needed. In my advanced old age, should I believe this or not? I wish I were blind and never saw it and read it. Unbelievable but true.

I have been present at this monument every April 24, from the time they started building it to today. Over ten thousand Armenians have gathered, but with cold hearts and in a splintered state.

Party members, clergy, neutral ones, and well-known personalities scream against the Turks seeking revenge. But their voices have not been heard in any other languages, and they haven't achieved anything. The Turkish proverb says: Armenians pass their days screaming "lakh, lakh" like storks. Another proverb says: The dog barks but the caravan never deviates and proceeds on its path... and for me, they were right.

I used to return home in a sad mood.

Although there wasn't a big crowd this year, I had the opportunity to hear the voice of the spouse of the honorable Bob Dole. It was like the whole world was given to me. With a loud voice she shouted that only Bob Dole would present the wishes of the Armenians to the world. The hope given by the great Congressperson regarding the genocide was like the voice of God. I became so raptured that at the end of the event, I approached the honorable angel, Mrs. Dole, and told her that I was a ninety-five-year-old survivor. She shook my hand. I turned away and after walking a few feet, one of the Armenian scouts said to me that she wanted to see me again. She grabbed me and hugged me. Never in my life had I experienced such an occurrence. God was with me. 12

I have suffered a great deal, remembering my father's, mother's, brother's, sister's bones and the bones and bodies of my relatives.

Armenians unite. Think wisely. Beware of the positions you are taking. Do not push away those who survived the cruelties of the Turks...

I am old and pains are many, many.

A survivor without hope, H. Chitjian

Comments regarding the Armenian Observer articles on Karabagh.

The Armenians of Armenia should be esteemed a thousand-fold. Shame on the American- Armenians if they won't follow Armenia...

Over here we have brave, good-hearted people. We have more opportunities here than the Armenians in Armenia...

Homework from a survivor to Richard Hovanessian: Take my eyes as (for) glasses and view with those eyes.

A man who suffered like a dog for six years. H. Chitjian

Unity, Struggle, Victory. Der Sarkis Antrasian

What Armenian's heart and conscience won't be touched when this accursed monster ... is "honored" in broad daylight.

Would that these martyrs would awaken and speak in my stead.

It is wise to learn another language You make friends when you speak their language It is preferable that Armenian be the primary language The Armenian language is full of Mesrobian letters It is easy to get accustomed to the Armenian language.

Ayp, Pen, Kim, Ta, Yetch, Za, Eh, Et, To, Zhe, Ini, Lun, Khe, Dza, Gen, Ho, Tza, Ghat, Djeh, Men, He, Nou, Sha, Vo, Cha, Beh, Cheh, Ra, Se, Ve, Duin, Re, Tzo, Uin, Pur, Ke, Yev, O, Fe

², ´, ¶, ¸, º, ¼, ¾, À, Â, Ä, Æ, È, Ê, Ì, Î, Ð, Ò, Ô, Ö, Ø, Ú, Ü, Þ, à, â, ä, æ, è, ê, ì, î, ð, ò, ô, ö, ø, ¢, ú, ü 15

We are the god-given sacred letters. There are 39 of us. And the One God is with us. The forty sacred witnesses vow, with strictly pure blood, and Armenian heart, that:

I (Name of husband) will be a good husband ... and will take care and provide for her until death.

I (name of wife) will be a good and obedient wife ... and with the good-natured joys of family, will keep my true promise until death

It is the wife who builds the home, It is the wife who ruins the home -- especially here in America.

There is a woman behind every successful man, Similarly a woman behind every destroyed man.

How I wish you would keep your promises and these 39 sacred letters and use them for reading, writing, and teach them to your children, and God will love you. Hampartzoum

I am 94 years old, I have been married for 65 years, and my experience adds up to thousands.

The only way to build a firm home-nest: Don't be like a hatchet always pointing toward you, but be like a saw, which goes equally toward you and toward us: singleness of purpose and joint liability.

My wish to this precious couple: May God protect them from dangers; and at present to grant them health, love, togetherness, family joy, good luck, success and obedient children.

This new, unadulterated Armenian marital ceremony will be verified and approved by those who have come to witness this solemn occasion. Feb. 9, 1992

Ayp, Pen, Kim, Ta, Yetch, Za, Eh, Et, Almighty God is One and His To, Zhe, Ini, Lun, Khe, Dza, Gen, Ho, Certificate = 1 Tza, Ghat, Djeh, Men, He, Nou, Sha, Vo, Cha, Beh, Cheh, Ra, Se, Ve, Duin, Re, Tzo, Uin, Pur, Ke, Yev, O, Fe = 39

God is One, plus the 39 sacred letters make 40 witnesses.

I (name) swear that I will be a good husband to (name). Also, I will protect the Armenian language and my immaculate blood and will infuse them into our newborns.

The only way to a firm marriage, the proverb says: "Don't be like a hatchet always pointing toward you, but be like a saw, which goes equally toward you and toward us."

Let us keep firmly to our promises. Let us remember the suffering survivors and their advice. May God be with you.

Hampartzoum Chitjian.

Armenian family Life is Desirable

The well-to-do and dutiful Armenian parent wishes to choose the best life-partner for its offspring. 17

Initially, to form a durable and desirable family, they looked for and chose a compatible person for their offspring from amongst their neighbors and friends.

The Qualities of the Boy: The Qualities of the Girl: 1. (Loyal) Honest 1. (Loyal) Honest 2. (Diligent) Laborious 2. Humble 3. Generous 3. Noble 4. Brave, strong 4. Serious, sedate, serene In one word: Decent 5. Agreeable 6. Obedient

With the approval of both parents, the mothers, incidentally, announce the compatible age of their children -- the boy from 18-20, and the girl from 16-18.

Customarily, at the end of autumn, or in the winter, the priest is called upon to bless the gift of the engagement ring, which symbolizes the beginning of their connection.

Before the wedding, they would decide who will be the Godfather and the Godmother, one from the boy's side, the other from the girl's. Good-naturedly they infuse into the heads of the bride and groom advice on how to enjoy the good days and how to survive the bad ones, as they continue in life yoked together.

The only way for a marriage to endure... The proverb says...

The Conduct of the Virtuous Armenian Family

There is solidarity, love, respect, diligence and the fear of God in the Armenian family.

There is also a grandfather and grandmother, who, with a heart full of tender loving care, observe their children and grandchildren as they grow up, multiply and replace them: and also watch them so that they love their nation and homeland, and preserve their language. They should share their estate and wealth with every member.

Everyone has mutual love and respect in their hearts for each other. They perform the duties assigned to them with joy.

The compassion of the father and the love of the mother permeate the pleasant lifestyle of the home.

Here's an example from my dynasty:

14 members of a family living under one roof: My grandfather was 90. He had command of the household. He was healthy, jovial and full of jokes. We all loved him. Because of the respect my father showed him, he lived a long and happy life. My father used to bow and just to sit on his side of the hearth. Although my father smoked a great deal, he never did so in front of his father.

My mother, who after all bore nine children, was equally respectful of my grandfather. She never had conversations with him and continued to act as if she was still a new bride.

We were six brothers and three sisters. We also had two aunts.

The rules inside our household were so good that one could rarely find it in other families: In a Christian and a loving way, where everyone performed their chores willingly and not because it was mandatory. It was customary to wake up everyone before sunrise. They considered waking up before sunrise sacred. To still be asleep after sunrise was considered a sin. Or they used to say the person is lazy or weak. 19

As soon as we got out of bed, we had to wash up. One of us would pour water over the hands of my father and (in turn) another over the hands of my grandfather so that they would wash up (hands and face). And this is when we used to hear their prayers. They used to go to church, and we (together the males only) would go to school. In the evening we too went to church regularly. We would put on vestments of altar boys and pray.

In the evenings, after dinner, by the light of the fire we used to do our homework. Around eight or nine, my grandfather, father and six brothers would gather around the fire, with my mother and sisters standing behind us, and would recite the 24 verses of "With Faith I confess." Each one of us would recite a verse. We would then go down on our knees and sing "Lord, take pity on us ... Lord, grant peace to the world, and healing to the sick.

(Side A is similar to others. The collage in the back is interesting. Here is the translation.)

This house is still there... My memory is still fresh. When I entered the house after midnight 1923, I found the piece of my heart Kaspar, (and also) Mihran, and Maritza. When I woke up on the first morning, I saw in the room the first child, beautiful Azad. Two days later, Verkin, Nishan, and Sam were in the same house: five brothers, 2 brides, and two boys... They are no more. Ca, 1990

When I wrote this letter in 1921, there was no God.3

I am very rich. I have many head-ache-inducing letters which reveal my torment. From 1914-15 they were in Armenian; from 1917-21 in Turkish. I had the Turkish name of Rooshdi, and Kaspar was Rashid. These letters would kill your appetite. They are worth reading. From 1921- 23 they are in Armenian, starting in Tavriz, Persia, Baghdad and Mosul in Iraq, from Der-Zor to Haleb. From France, Cuba, Mexico City. All (addressed to) my twin brother Kaspar, from 1918- 20, before coming to America. They reveal his ordeal. I will give them to those who want to read them.

3 By 1921, Hampartzoum was under such duress after surviving numerous escapes "a hair's breadth from death," that he embarked upon an escape out of Turkey on foot! 21

The Conduct of the Armenian Family Home is Virtuous

There is solidarity, love, respect, God-fearingness, and diligence in the Armenian family.

There is also the grandfather and grandmother, who, with hearts full of tender loving care, watch their children and grandchildren grow up, multiply and replace them. (They wish that the children) would love their nation and homeland, and preserve their language...

The estate and wealth belong to every member. There is nothing in writing. Every member has mutual love and respect in their hearts for each other. They perform the duties assigned to them with joy. One is for all and all are for one.

The compassion of the father and the love of the mother permeate the pleasant lifestyle of the home.

Armenian parents would go hungry just to help out their children. In return, the off-springs appreciate this (saying "dear mother") and express love with an obedient will. Emotionally

warm Mexican families are similar. (The children would say) "Mamasita mi Kerida." I have also heard Kurdish kids say "Ana Kle."

Here in America, they ask for expenditure money even from their 18 year old children. Although the words "I love you" are uttered frequently, they are superficial flatteries. Because of indecent outside expenditure, they (the children) create great difficulties for their parents.

The Armenian man considers his wife the flower of the home, and does not let it wither away; works hard to take care of the expenses of the house, so that his wife's face remains always smiling.

The Armenian woman considers her husband as her master and not her slave. She does not attempt to subjugate him to her vile passions. A Korean was saying on T.V.: "Our wives walk behind us; here, your wives walk all over you." This is the difference. The Armenian family is virtuous.

The past of the Armenians shows that they have always been builders and producers and enjoyed life in the manner of Christians.

The Conduct of the Virtuous Armenian Family

There is solidarity, love, respect, diligence and the fear of God in the Armenian family.

There is also a grandfather and grandmother, who, with a heart full of tender loving care, watch their children and grandchildren grow up, multiply and replace them: to love their nation, their homeland, and to preserve their language...

The estate and wealth belongs to every member. Every member has love and respect in their hearts for one another. The duties assigned to them are performed with joy.

The father's compassion and the mother's love permeate the home with a pleasant lifestyle.

In appreciation, the off-springs utter "mother" with a warm heart to show their love. The Armenian man considers his wife the flower of the nest, and works diligently in order not to see his wife's reflection bearing a sad face.

The Armenian family speaks love from the heart and shows it on the face. A glimpse from the life of my dynasty...

My name is Hampartzoum, the son of Mardiros and Turfanda. My grandfather's name was Toros. He had one son and two daughters: Mardiros, Marinos, and Aghavni.

We were six brothers and three sisters: Zaruhy, Bedros, Mihran, Sultan, I and my twin Kaspar, Kerop, Nishan, Yeranuhy. Together we formed one family under one roof. My grandfather was 90. He had command of the household. He was healthy, jovial and full of jokes. We all loved him. Because of the respect my father showed him, he lived a long and happy life. Slowly bowing his head, my father sat on his side of the stove.4 Although my father smoked a great deal, he never did so in front of his father. My mother, who after all bore nine children, was equally respectful of my grandfather. She never spoke with him and continuing to act as if she were still a new bride.

The rule inside our household was so good that one could rarely find it in other families. It was the Christian way and a loving way, where everyone performed his/her chores willingly and not because it was mandatory.

It was customary to wake up everyone before sunrise. They considered waking up before sunrise sacred. To still be asleep after sunrise was considered a sin. Or they used to say the person is lazy or weak. As soon as we got out of bed, we had to wash up. One of us would pour water into the hands of my father and another into the hands of my grandfather so that they would wash up. And even during this they would pray. They used to go to church, and we would go to school. In the evening we too went to church regularly. We would put on vestments of altar boys and pray.

Around nine or ten, my grandfather, father and six brothers would gather around the hearth, with my mother and sisters standing behind us, and would recite the 24 verses of "With Faith I confess." Each one of us would recite a verse. We would then kneel down on our knees and sing "Lord, take pity on us ... Lord, grant peace to the world, healing to the sick, freedom to my Armenian Nation, the chance to see those we miss, and love and unity for the family.

My father, suspicious of the vileness of the Turks, sent my two brothers to America. Our mother could not bear this separation and became ill for three months, and then passed away. Following my grandfather's passing by one day in 1909. Our lifestyle continued until 1915. But, in my opinion, however, God turned His face away from the Armenians, even though they prayed a

4 Customarily they sat on the floor in front of the fireplace for dinner -- Mardiros on the right side and Toros on the left side. 24

great deal, they were not united. And from this dis-unity emerged something my mouth is tired of repeating and your ears from listening.

Open my heart and read within: ... One who for six years suffered bitterly like a dog...

Hampartzoum

... It is wise to learn another language You make friends when you speak their language It is preferable that Armenian be the primary language The Armenian language is full of sacred Mesrobian letters It is easy to get accustomed to the Armenian language.

The Armenian alphabet is superior to the letters of other languages. With pride teach others that Armenian is simple and is pronounced as it is spelled...making it unnecessary to ask "How is it spelled?"

There is also the present. Look at Armenia. Although it is still a child, it surpasses not only Turkey but also Europe in lifestyle and splendid developments. If you haven't seen it yet, go see it. It's worth seeing it before you die. You will be satisfied. The Armenians have the praiseworthy adjective: "hard-working."

The Armenian language has tasty and fragrant words. The letters are plenty and they surpass the alphabet of any nation on earth.

It is wise to learn another language You make friends when you speak their language It is preferable that Armenian be the primary language The Armenian language is full of sacred Mesrobian letters It is easy to get accustomed to the Armenian language.

Don't be like a hatchet which always points toward you, but to be like a saw, which goes equally toward you and toward us. This is how a nest is built for the novices.

In this way, well- tutored and ready, they stand in front of the priest at the altar of the church, and vow, according to their understanding of the quality of love, to live as two bodies within one soul, to grow old on the same pillow, to grow and to multiply.

The priest, after blessing with a prayer, asks the groom if he accepts her as a wife, and would he take care of her until death. The answer, of course, is a heartfelt "yes, my Lord." The new bride is asked the same question, and the answer is the same heavenly "yes" and it is eternal.

The parents and the gathered guests wish them long and happy years, and to multiply, and to remain firm in their vows toward their parents and nation. This Armenian lifestyle is perpetuated when from grandchild to grandchild it is multiplied, yielding a well-to-do life.

There is a great deal of difference between the Armenian marriage tradition and those of others. Young people, whether a boy or a girl, without telling their parents, spend 2 dollars for a marriage license, 2 dollars for a motel, 2 dollars at the sandwich stand to satiate their hunger, and then, a week or two later, upset with one another, they spend 2 dollars for a divorce permit, and then they run to their parents and tell them about the calamity that befell them. If they happen to have conceived a child, they put him up for adoption, or dump the child in the courtyard of a hospital, or at the gates of a church, and thus ends the marriage without either sacredness or refinement.

They once again start anew in their way.

The Conduct of the Armenian Family Home is Virtuous There is solidarity, love, respect, diligence,5 and the fear of God in the Armenian family.

The estate and wealth belongs to every member. There is nothing in writing. Every member has love and respect in their hearts for each other. They perform the duties assigned to them with joy.

The compassion of the father and the love of the mother permeate the pleasant lifestyle of the home.

Armenian parents would go hungry just to help out their children. In return, the off-springs appreciate this (saying "mother") and express love with an obedient will.

The Armenian man considers his wife the flower of the home, and does not let it wither away; works hard to take care of the expenses of the house, so that his wife's face remains always smiling.

5 Ashkhadaser - hard working, energetic, earnest, patient, enterprising, tireless, undefeatable. 29

The past of the Armenians shows that they have always been builders and enjoyed life in the manner of Christians. There is also the present. Look at Armenia. Although it is still a child, it surpasses not only Turkey but also Europe in both in lifestyle and splendid developments. The adjective "Hard-working Armenians" is deserving of praise.

The Armenian language, tasty and fragrant, with its words and letters, surpasses the alphabet of any nation on earth, such as Arabic, Hebrew or the convoluted Korean letters. Just reading them would explode your spleen -- and how.

With pride teach the children of other nations your sacred 39 Armenian letters. It comes out so simple, it is pronounced as it is spelled.

Armenian Family Life is Desirable.

The well-to-do and dutiful Armenian parent wishes to choose the best life-partner for its offspring.

Previously, in order to form a durable and desirable family, they used to look for and choose for their offspring a compatible person from amongst their neighbors or friends.

The Qualities of the Boy: The Qualities of the Girl: 1. (Loyal) Honest 1. (Loyal) Honest 2. (Diligent) Laborious 2. Humble 3. Generous 3. Noble 4. Brave, strong 4. Serious, sedate In one word: Decent 5. Agreeable 6. Obedient

With the approval of both parents, the mothers, incidentally, announce the compatible age of their children -- the boy from 18-19-20, and the girl from 16-17-18. Customarily, at the end of autumn or in the winter, the priest is called upon to bless the gift of the engagement ring, which symbolizes the beginning of their connection.

Before the wedding, they decide who will be the Godfather and the Godmother, one from the boy's side, the other from the girl's. Good-naturedly they infuse into the heads of the bride and

groom advice on how to enjoy the good days and how to survive the bad ones, as they continue in life yoked together.

As the proverbs says, the only way for a marriage to endure: Don't be like a hatchet which always points toward you, but to be like a saw, which goes equally toward you and toward us.

This is how a nest is built in the hearts of the novices.

The parents and the gathered guests wish them long and happy years, and to multiply, and to remain firm in their vows toward their parents and nation. This Armenian lifestyle is perpetuated from grandchild to grandchild, yielding a well-to-do life.

With pride are the young Armenian youth appreciated. With their hard work they make their parents and nation happy. And the pretty young Armenian girls do their best to see that their parents and children are cheerful. In America, the new ones demand money from 15-16 year-old boys, while the Armenian mother would spend her food-money to help out a son.

There is a great deal of difference between the Armenian marriage tradition and those of others. Young people, whether a boy or a girl, without telling their parents, spend 2 dollars for a marriage license, 2 dollars for a motel, 2 dollars at the sandwich stand to satiate their hunger, and then, a week or two later, upset with one another, they spend 2 dollars for a divorce permit, and then they run to their parents and tell them about the calamity that befell them. If they happen to have conceived a child, they put him up for adoption, or dump the child in front of a hospital, or at the gates of a church, and thus ends the marriage, without sacredness or refinement. As they once again begin to repeat (the same cycle.)

The renewal of the wound inside the heart of a survivor

The (song) singing of the crane 1915

Crane dearest Crane dearest It is spring. Crane dearest Crane dearest, Give regards To my father and mother... 32

Oh, what days they were... in the hell of 1915. Dream or reality?

Crane dearest Crane dearest Where do you come from? Or where do you go? Let me write a letter And give it to you So you take it to "amanat." I have a sample of twin brothers for you.

My late father used to always say... Not a leaf on a tree can move without the order of God. If so, what was our sin that led to...? Did God order the murderous Turk?

They gave us Red Massacres Red country Mourning and lamentations.

And the vulgar bastards of America Gave us white massacres Or black coal massacres?

Both are the same.

Unbearable is the scorching fire of God.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

The driver of the car is my only hope: my daughter; her mother sitting next to her; seated in the back is me; weeping because I see copious bouquets of flowers. We are taking these presents where? To the cemetery. To whom? To my four brothers and only son. Remember but do not transgress. But what is my transgression that our savior father gave me such severe punishment?

Of the generation of splintered Armenians; Son of Grief.

Response to the poem "To Our Builders."

Words that touch my heart. My wishes have not come true.

There are many such people in America too. After all, isn't it a shame?

Hampig Chitjian

This is a spot on proverb taken right out of my life.

It is worth reading the 24 verses of "With Faith I Confess." But more than reading it, one should...

TO MY DEAR READER

Because I am 101 years old, and because of the pain of losing my wife, who was my life-mate for 69 years, I am facing great difficulties and am suffering greatly to complete and finish my book with all the proofs that it presents.

I present my last request to you, so that my candle remains always lit, until the unspeakable violence the Turks perpetrated against the Armenians reaches the World Court, and we once again become the owners of our ancestors' lands and Ararat.

If you read this book of my memories, which I have shared with you, I am certain that you too would understand what happened in 1915, and why the consequences of breaking the collective power of the Armenians is so important.

Please accept my gratitude and appreciation for the time you spent and for understanding me.

Sweet licorice root, Potatoes, Onion layers -- a great deal of, Mushrooms, from the... Mountain almonds, prickly tree... Sparrow-green flower -- very delicious "Blorig Yonja", which grows abundantly near the streams, and very delicious, "Goullek" green grass, They used to cook (the above) with cracked wheat Pilaf -- it was very delicious. Wish it were a few years back in time; then my writing too would have been delicious to the reader. Old age is hell because of merciless and savage people.

Armenians pass their days screaming "lakh, lakh" like storks. The dog barks but the caravan never deviates and proceeds on its path.

We are the brave children of Dalvorig We do not bow in front of the Turks Our eyes have never looked upon the plough-haft or the plough Let us unite and forge ahead Let us shore up Tashnagtzoutioun.

1915... April 24 1987... May 25

Memorial Day -- Rose Hills... A piece of writing on the way to the cemetery.

* Plenty of sorrow, * Plenty of tears, * Plenty of patience, * Plenty of stormy memories: The dry mulberries of Perchench, the home of Dr. Michael, * Plenty of hatred toward past and present leaders who are in "Disunity," * Plenty of harsh fire of God, * Plenty of visits to the cemetery, * Plenty of ... fights ... with dead people.

There you have it -- the life of an inconsolable survivor.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

In my father's house, six brothers, 3 sisters -- all gone. 39

READ WITH FEELING

The driver of the car is my only hope: my daughter; her mother sitting next to her; seated in the back seat is me, weeping because I am staring at the copious bouquets of flowers. And where are we are taking these presents? To the cemetery. To whom? To my 4 brothers and my only son. Remember but do not transgress! But what was my transgression that our savior Father gave me such severe punishment?

Of the generation of disunited Armenians; Son of Grief.

In my father's house, six brothers, 3 sisters -- all gone.

1915... April 24 1987... May 25

Memorial Day -- Rose Hills... A piece of writing on the way to the cemetery.

* Plenty of sorrow, * Plenty of tears, * Plenty of patience, 41

* Plenty of stormy memories of my life being saved: Dry mulberries of Perchench, and Dr. Michael's home, * Plenty of hatred toward past and present leaders, especially the clergy, who are in "Disunity," * Plenty of harsh fire of God -- the promiscuous women, * Plenty of visits to the cemetery, * Plenty of ... fights ... with dead Turks from the old country. There you have it -- the life of an inconsolable survivor. Hampartzoum Chitjian

My father's house, six brothers, 3 sisters, all gone.

In my memory, when I was a young boy in school, we had as much love and respect for all the teachers as we did for our parents. Attentively, attentively, we listened to them, and we wanted to be just like them.

When they gave writing lessons, the words were very advice-giving.

1. Example: "Don't be like a hatchet aimed always toward you, but be equal like a saw, one toward you, one toward us." The meaning of this is "Unity."

2. Example: "What can one hand do? But two hands can make noise." Again, means "Unity."

"When two cooperating friends join hands, They can raise a mountain."

3. "Unity is force, force an echo. By Unity you become the owner of your country, By Unity you get to keep your country forever. Dis-Unity brings about massacre.

Massacre is hell (I am) One who survived hell, But "look, how weepy (he is)" they say, "his stories (are) unbearable."

4. The love of an Armenian mother is like an ocean, The father's compassion, like the universe. To appreciate this, Keep your ... blood ... pure.

Is there anything in the world more lovely 43

Than the much loved word brother?

Wolf brother, dog brother, Again brother, again brother.

There can never be a city like Baghdad, Nor a beloved like a brother.

God has created a brother as a brother, But in purse and fate, He has created them differently.

Similar to my fate and Kaspar's.

Slave of a Kurd and the Villages of Kharpert

Slave of a Kurd.6

Had to take 20-21 animals to the mountains for grazing during the day, with just a piece of bread and a little yoghurt (for sustenance) -- the same in the morning and the evening.

At night, we used to stir up the manure to stay warm in the stables.

Writing tearful letters by the light of a wax candle.

Now, in 1988, I read (these letters) in tears, but I cannot clearly read what I myself have written. May God grant me strength so that I may be able to read them later.

How difficult it is to remember the hell that I wrote about! And now I read it and seethe in sorrow. Zoryan (Institute) has 500 pages of this.

If you want to know what disunity begets, Just ask me.

6 It's about his exPerriences in the akhor, (stable.) 45

Noble, courageous young men, Who console sad and tormented hearts; I appreciate the stance you have taken. My wish to you is that you would not give up hope. May God be with you.

A 101-year-old survivor, Hampartzoum Chitjian.

NOTE: He wrote these words on the envelope of the Youth Union in 2002. Turkish paper, Turkish ink, Fear of Turks, Turkish stable, With Turkish animals.

The ill-fated son of an Armenian, With such feelings I aged.

Armenian Offspring, Child of Grief.

Hampartzoum

1915: Year of Mourning

The month of April is the month of mourning; It is always remembered thus.

However, open the heart of a survivor and read within, (and you will see that) from 1915 to 1988, it is buried in mourning every day.

For proof, open it up and read.

With deep feelings of mourning,

Hampartzoum Chitjian

Youth of future generations who are (infused) with the feelings of the Armenian Case, take possession of this (fact), and console (survivors, and the aura of survivors.)7

7 Hampartzoum is putting his hopes and faith on the Armenian youth rather than their elder "leaders." In 2010, the 3rd and 4th generation youths "appear" to show interest... 47

The Positions Taken by Armenian Leaders, and Our Suffering: 1915 to 1997, it's the same

It is my sister Zaruhy who reminded me of this story. She had recounted it to a Peretzi whom I knew, and she in her turn related it to me in the Hokedoun (caravanserai) in Haleb. They had tortured, and beaten my father to a pulp in the Turkish jail for three weeks. He had come out of jail and knocked at our door. When we opened the door -- oh, what a scene! Was this the grace of the mythical false God, the Christ, and the faith of the false "With Faith I Confess?" My father used to say "not a single leaf could move without the command of God."

Listen, believe, and forget (this faith) because it is of no use.

My exhausted father was not able to say anything more. All I heard was that he was going to take the four of us boys to the Turks. And I and my twin brother Kaspar, and Kerop and Nishan, followed him without anyone saying a word. He took us to the Turkish school. They took us in, and he went away without looking back.

Sorrow, yes.

(According to my sister), my father then went home and told his sister Aghavni to marry Bulud Ebo's son. Then, himself, my (step) mother8 and my three sisters, Sultan, Yeranuhi, Zaruhy joined the other Peretzis and reached the river. My father tells my 16-year-old sister Sultan to throw herself into the river. She complies and the River Yeprad swallows her. They cross the river and stop to rest near Hoshe. My step-mother was beautiful. A Turk grabs her, but my father resists. They cut off his ears. This is how our story ends.

(After recalling this story), my sister fainted and fell to the floor in the (Hokedoun) caravanserai.

To be a slave of a Turk is a fate worse than hell.

To believe in the hypocritical Jesus is a sign of mental weakness.

The American floozies and the Turks of our Homeland are hell. Together they will destroy: They know... and they are growing in number.

1905-1996: My disgruntled and confused feelings about my religion where I confess.9

Up to the time I was seven years old, we used to gather around the hearth in our house and with my grandfather, father, six brothers used to pray for an hour. We used to recite all 24 verses of "With Faith I Confess." I still knew these verses by heart when I was in America. I used to recite them in the evenings.

Here, the unaccountable clergy drove me to hate my religion.

8 Mardiros' older sister Marinos also went with them. 9 One year before wife passed away; age 95. 49

Even though all those prayers, the sincere faith, Perished with the wind. I never saw any benefit...

Now, I am thinking about what benefits has the Armenian People ever gained in the past two thousand years, other than splintering, and mutual sabotage?

You can't even find the words to express what I really mean. About this (subject), just ask me.

From 1907 to 1996.

In my days of youth, I used to listen with the joy of youthfulness, and sincerely believed in my much-desired and wished for political party. I used to sing: Meshag-Panvor, Renchber, Brothers, Let us go, Let us move Ahead, Let us give our hands and shoulder to Tashnagtzoutioun.

How happy were those days when I was young.

When I escaped10 and went to Persia, Tavriz, Archbishop Nerses was hollering: "Why did so many Armenians leave Armenia and come here? They are hungry, and also the people here are hungry."

Mistake number one: I went and registered. They used to give one Touman per week. After three weeks, they came and insisted that I, along with two of my friends, should kill a boy named Levon. I refused. I left the ranks. I was left to starve.

One day I went to the restaurant owned by 2 Yeghektzi (Kharpertzi) brothers, and asked to wash the dishes, in order to lick the plates to get nourishment. They refused. I went to the back of the restaurant, thinking that I would be able to get something from the dishwashing water. But then I gagged on the soapy water. Still hungry, I fainted whilst on my feet.

I sat up. A boy by the name of "saintly" David, from the village of Vartadel, grabbed me and took me to his home. He removed the only shirt and underwear that he owned, and he washed it and sold them for two khrans.

We bought two loaves of bread, and now I am here.

NOTES:

10 ExPerriencing severe danger. 50

Today's "Madonna" wannabes strut around with their legs wide open. They parade and dance "voluntarily." Resembles what the Turks and Kurds forced young Armenian girls to do before they were finished off, being pierced through the bodies and burned! How could a survivor relive these scenes watching American TV in 2000!!

As Hampartzoum tried desperately to hang on to his paternal identity and to his emotional principles within his "soul"...His whole being was accosted. -- The sacred regard for females, mothers, sisters, wives, etc. -- The emotional pledge to "protect" your own... *Both were shattered in his emotional psyche (by American TV!) Where are the Armenian clergy, the teachers of the people?

Hampartzoum was extremely disheartened that he was not aware that neither the clergy nor Armenian community leaders took any kind of stance to discourage this moral corruption of our historical past! Meghk!

My Hope is my Wife; My Light is my Daughter.

The driver of the car is my only hope: my daughter; her mother sitting next to her; seated in the back is me; weeping because I see copious bouquets of flowers. We are taking these presents where? To the cemetery. To whom? To my 4 brothers and my only son. Remember but do not transgress. But what was my transgression that our Savior Father gave me such severe punishment?

The son of a "Disunited" nation; 87 years old.

A song from 1919 -- Hmayag, my Uncle's son, in the orphanage:

Generation of Armenians, Sons of grief, We have wounds incurable. Exile, torments, beatings and slaps, They filled our lives with plentiful of pain, We became orphans, miserable, with no one to give us a hand. We wander from door to door.

Be good, friends, And save us from the sad grief.

Our eyes have been terrified by what they saw, Our ears from what they heard.

We are not afraid of hell. Our lives have already been through hell.

The Turks used to say: "It Yourar, Kerven Gecher," (which means): "Armenians bark like dogs, but our caravan moves on."

Armenians -- you cannot achieve anything by just screaming words,

The proverb states: "Don't be too soft, they'll crush you; Don't be too hard, they'll hang you."

This April 24, let us not make big noise with words alone, or with the empty sermons of the clergy, but instead, use your heads, and do something in the newspapers, on T.V., or through government officials, so that we old ones, feel some happiness before we close our eyes forever.

There are many who would help financially if an Armenian such as Kissinger or Doctor Luther King steps forward.

Let the Armenians awaken.

Oh, how I wish I was lucky enough to see that day and then die.

Use the Survivors. You are already too late...

A man who considers himself unlucky.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

1915 1998

A YOUTH OF 14: DEEP OLD AGE OF 97: WITH HEALTHY MIND WITH A WEAK MIND, FULL OF HOPE WITHOUT HOPE

A FRESH MEMORY OF A SURVIVOR

Dream or Reality? Kharpert and the outlying villages. Of the generation of "Dis-Unity; Son of Grief.

How I lived like a dog from 1915 to 1921. Wandering across the outlying villages of Kharpert was a life of hell.

Did God exist? My name became Rooshdi, or "Gyavour Bokhi, (piece of infidel shit...)"

I remember that the prayer we recited in our home was "With Faith I Confess." We used to go to church every day and pray in the name of Jesus. But was anyone listening?

I am now in a Christian country and I still have not found Jesus.

Empty words. Life is vanity.

What did I get from life that I should be happy that I was born?

Read my writings in Armenian and Turkish about my wanderings across the outlying villages of Kharpert. Speak emotionally to the apostles of the clergyman Jesus, about the unbearable life that you and your twin brother Kaspar have lived through, and speak the truth.

Listening to the high-ranking persons, (giving speeches from the stage), I had almost the same feelings as when in 1915 my father said: "they are going to devour our heads." (I was now) hearing such conversations as "Instead of the red massacre, the white massacre will destroy and finish us."

This is similar to the story where ... A mother tells her son to go tell the in-laws to come and visit them the next day. "Say it half-mouthedly," (half-heartedly) she instructs him. The boy goes there, and covering half of his mouth with his fingers asks them to visit them tomorrow. The in-law notices he is covering his mouth and asks why he is doing so. And the boy says, "To tell you the truth, my mother said that I should ask "Half-mouthed-ly."

Catholicoses and Archbishops and bishops, if there is a will, you could lay your fingers upon the sad wounds of your people and comfort those survivors who are still alive.

My daughter took me to listen to this young man by the name of Vazken. I was very satisfied. But I was saddened to see that the Henchag and Ramgavar party members who were there did not converse with each other.

I went to all of the events; heard the same half-hearted conversations. 56

Of what help is this to me or the nation? They are Armenian in name only.

My name is Hampartzoum, A survivor without hope, Search within my heart, open and read.

1915 1992

(The cartoon's caption is: "Prelates, you see, it wasn't that difficult to get together."

"If you are not on good terms with each other, why do you enter the Holy Temple?"

"If there is sincere will, we can reconcile with each other."

Cartoon's slogans read: "Unity is Strength," "Love one Another," etc. 57

To this list of slogans he adds: "Listen to what the survivors relate; Blood flows from their mouths."

1915: Year of Mourning

The month of April is the month of mourning; It is always remembered thus.

However, open the heart of a survivor and read within, (and you will see that) from 1915 to 1988, it was buried in mourning every day.

For proof, open it up and read.

With deep feelings of mourning,

Hampartzoum Chitjian 58

Youth of future generations who are (infused) with the feelings of the Armenian Case.

MALATIA: MY MOTHER'S BIRTHPLACE11

(Born) on Kharazayeen Street, across from the house of Michael Effendi Tarkhaniantz.

My grandfather's name was Sarkis Agha, my grandmother's Hripsimeh. Their children were: Setrag, Hagop, Maritza, Nevart, who is the wife of Nshan Alashahyan, and my dear mother Ovsanna, and I.

11 Hampartzoum left his notes to his daughter Zaruhy, so that she'll remember her mother's information. 59

My father was born in Charsanjak, Perri. My grandfather's name was Mardiros, my grandmother's Terfanda. The children were: Bedros, Mihran, Hampartzoum, Kaspar, Kerop, Nishan, Zaruhy, Sultan, and Yeranuhy.

We are born in America, We have loved Vartan the Brave, We are always filled with vengeance, We have always hated the vile Turk. 60

We learned from our teachers to frighten, not to be frightened, To smash the head of the Barbaric Turk so that we are vindicated. Let us cheer up the minds of our ancestors who suffered, Let us extend our hands to each other and unite.

The sun has risen, the moment has arrived, The rights of the Armenians have reached the apex, The whole world has heard our just voice, To give the Armenian lands back to Armenians.

Those grandchildren of Vartan the Brave who recite this fluently would now be appreciated.

Hampartzoum Chitjian, 2-19-1997

Today (April 19, 1994) I went to the Ramona School. My precious daughter is a teacher there. She has taught her students about Armenian life.

Their recitations, with shiny eyes and delicious lips, left me extremely satisfied.

They listened to my story about the massacres of Kharpert with perceptive minds.

To embrace each other with pleasure and to kiss.

There they found a young teenager by the name of Kaspar. They also heard about his twin brother Hampartzoum, which is my name. I was so happy that they took good care of me. I won't exchange the whole world or heaven with the joy I felt today. These children reminded me of the orphan students in Armenia. I appreciate it that Mrs. Elizabeth Aghbabian is helping them (Armenian orphans) over there. I consider her activities sacred. With best wishes, I make a donation to gladden the orphans of Nubarashen and (Nor) Kharpert.

With heartfelt Respects, Hampartzoum, Ovsanna Chitjian

We Congratulate12

Good daughter, good teacher, We appreciate that you satisfied Your parents and your students, And my little ones, my grandchildren. May God grant you fine and joyous days. Dios contigo hija mia.

I convey to you my daily prayer and wish: May God protect you from danger, To grant you a long life and good health, Love and unity, A joyous family life, Success and good luck, And a good-hearted life-mate, Who is patient and decent-minded.

12 When my father wrote this in Armenian, did he ever think someday I would have someone read it to me? How much I wish I could have thanked him. Or did he know someday I would cherish each word he wrote, and have them immortalized, so that his words would not Perrish in vain, and one day they will testify as eyewitnesses to what took place in Province of Kharpert from 1914 to 1922. His words testify that the Genocide was a premeditated and well-organized state policy to destroy the Armenian People. Ovsanna and Hampartzoum. 63

1915-1921 Of the generation of disunited Armenians; Son of Grief. Memorable and eloquent photographs. Under a Turkish name, letters from Kharpert ... In what state of mind ... feelings.

Zoryan (Institute) has this address.

This house is still here. My memory is still fresh. When I first entered this house it was half past twelve midnight in 1923, I found the other half of my heart, Kaspar, also Mihran and Maritzah. The first morning when I awoke, I saw the baby, Azad. Two days later, Verkin and Nishan-Sam arrived.

America

My Most Respected Children, Mr. Bedros and Mr. Mihran

M. T. Chitjian, from your Ismayiltzi father.

Written by Papken Chitjian13

NOTE: These writings are on an envelope and it is thought that it contained a letter written in 1914-1915. The note is in Mardiros' handwriting.

13 During his years in school, Hampartzoum was renamed Papken... shedding his Christian name.

Those Armenians who read this statement wished to turn into a mouse and hide in a hole in order to survive.

I am one of the survivors of the Turkish Atrocities in 1915. I never forgot that I was a slave for 6 years.

When the town crier was shouting this, you wished you turned into a mouse and found a hole and disappeared into it:

"Whoever harbors an Armenian, Will get five years under lock and chain."

Turkish sayings:

The offsprings of Armenians growing up enter the ground.

May the last thought of an Armenian be mine. 66

They insisted that we should listen carefully to this ugly story that discredits us, so that we don't behave like that "brave" Armenian.

This is what two Turkish rogues told five of us Armenian field workers (14, 15 fourteen year old boys) in Perchench, when we were on a lunch break...

While walking on the road, a "brave" Armenian man proudly tells his wife that henceforth nobody would give her a hard time, because he would kill them with his fist. A Turkish soldier who was behind them hears the boastful words of the "brave" man. He gets off his horse arrogantly, and tells the "brave" man, "hold the reins firmly so that my horse doesn't escape." He then takes the woman a little further away, rapes her, brings her back and gives her back to him without a word. The woman stares at her "brave" husband and asks why he didn't do 67

anything. The "Brave" man tells her, "wife, you don't know what I did to him. He asked me to hold on to the reins firmly, but I hurt him badly by holding it very loosely."

Such is the bravery of the slave Armenian man.14

My name was "Gyavour Bokhi, piece of infidel shit." If we didn't address some ignorant Turk Bele Effendi, he would scream "he swore against my religion," and without any investigation we would be thrown to jail.

They made us draw a cross on the ground, then forced us to urinate on it. Had we not complied, we wouldn't be here now.

Of the generation of Dis-united Armenians; Son of Grief.

A few times a month the town crier would shout in the street:

14 This is another way Turks flippantly demoralized Armenians by raping their women. 68

"Whoever harbors an Armenian, Will get five years under lock and chain."

When you heard these words, you'd be better off to turn into a mouse and hide in a hole.

The offspring of an infidel cannot succeed. Infidel's day is wasted away like storks belching, lakh, lakh, lakh... And I agree.

My name was "Gyavour Bokhi -- piece of shit." If we didn't address some ignorant Turk Bele Effendi, he would scream "He swore against my religion," and without any investigation we would be thrown to jail.

My Turkish Letters from Hell 69

When God reads these letters, He, too, would cry.

After they crucified, stabbed and nailed Jesus, the Son of the Almighty God, he found rest on the same day.

But for 6, 7 - 8 years, we survivors lived a life more horrifying than the crucifixion of Jesus.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

The Turks used to say: "It Yourar, Kerven Gecher." Armenians bark like dogs, but our caravan moves on.

Armenians -- you cannot achieve anything by just screaming words,

The proverb states: "Don't be too soft, they'll crush you; Don't be too hard, they'll hang you."

This April 24, don't make big noise with words alone, or with the empty sermons of the clergy, but instead, use your heads, and do something in the newspapers, on T.V., or through government officials, so that we the old ones feel some happiness before we close our eyes.

There are many who would help financially if an Armenian Kissinger or Doctor Luther King steps forward.

Let the Armenians awaken.

Oh, how I wish I was lucky enough to see that day and then die.

Listen to the Survivors (remind the world the Genocide of the Armenians.) You are already too late.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

The clergy hold one firm will: To take. They don't like to give, even if it would (miraculously) rain if they give.

Their belly is large like the universe.

A story from the past:

One day, a priest standing next to a pool at the home of a rich man, listens contently how much his sheep-like people would be giving him.

Suddenly he slips and falls into the pool. He does not know how to swim. A peasant sees this and wanting to save him screams, "Der Hayr, give me your hand so that I can pull you out..."

But the priest dislikes the word GIVE...

The peasant sees that he is about to drown, and now he screams, "Der Hayr, take my hand so that I can pull you out and save you." And the priest says, "There you go my son, you spoke correctly."

This is the situation of priests -- more than a hundred. The proverb states...

The daily song of my Honorable father.

If our children forget such immense atrocities, Let the whole world hurl scorn at the Armenians. (The dis-unified leaders.)

70 years have passed and still the same leaders, the same mistake. Aren't such immense atrocities shameful acts...?

Open the heart of one who lived like a dog for six years and read within.

Memorable and eloquent photos.

Remember me: Rashid, My twin brother

Caption: Margarite, Rahan, Altoon Badgee, Kerop, Hampartzoum; Hampartzoum, Kerop, Hmayag, 1917

The Zoryan Institute has 500 of my Turkish letters from 1918-1923.

"WITH FAITH I CONFESS"

My feelings about prayer; the traditions of my ancestral home when I was 7.

In 1907, in front of the hearth of a multi-member family.

My grandfather would stand on the right of the hearth and my father on the left. Between them stood my brothers Bedros and Mihran, and me and my brother Kaspar.

Each one of us in turn recited a verse until all 24 verses were read.

We would then go down on our knees and sing: "Lord have mercy upon us; Give peace to the world, And healing to the ill; The chance to see again those we miss, And Freedom to my Armenian Nation."

It continued like this until 1915. My father used to tell us a story proving that this prayer works... But...

A merchant piles up a few mules with goods to take them to a faraway place to sell them. Every night, when he stops to rest, he recites all 24 verses of "With Faith I confess," and is thus surrounded by 24 walls that protect him.

One day, he falls asleep after reciting only 23 verses. Since he forgot to recite one verse, one of the walls is missing. The thieves who were following him see that there is an opening at one of 74

the walls. Right when they begin to enter through that open passage, the merchant wakes up and recites the un-recited verse. The walls fall on the thieves and the merchant remains safe.

There you have it.

I remember that from 1907 to 1923, this was the prayer that I knew by heart -- even when I got to America.

But how is that prayer beneficial to me, other than that I am alive, and I sorrowfully pass my days by recounting black tales?

Yes, I admit that we have a God. We should, however, also admit that God gave us nails to scratch our own heads with. Why delude ourselves by praying day and night. We are still slaves, scattered as Persian-Armenians, American-Armenians, Russian-Armenians, Algerian- Armenians, French-Armenians.

Isn't this after all a shame to be a slave to others for 700 years?

Yes, we said Unite... in sacredness. Believe in the church but remain wary of clergymen... Be careful and don't encourage them. But they are human also, and they too make the same mistakes. Rectify your mistakes ... And God would rectify things by granting a free and Independent Armenia.

H. Chitjian

The grace of the mother of the priest of the St. Hagop Church.

1915 1994

A sad memory from the church of the Motherland: Two priests, one Vartabed. And now, at the Arshag Dickranian School, with the distress of old age.

I went to this gathering and sat in the front row hoping that I would hear heartfelt words about Unity...

The Catholicos and two Holy Archbishops were sitting upfront on the stage. With faith of God, I was hoping for simple wound-healing words ... But ...

Of the generation of Armenians; Son of Grief.

the weapons, and whether we should give them or not. When I went home, my father asked me what such and such priest said, what such and such teacher said. When I told him, his answer was, "They will devour our heads, they have already devoured."

And now 2 Archbishops, 1 Catholicos. In the church.

We took His Holiness the Catholicos to the Shrine Auditorium, and when he saw the Turkish coat of arms of the moon and the crescent, he was unable to contain his emotions and said, "I will not pray here."

I was so touched in many ways remembering 1915, my father, sisters, brothers, the bones strewn across the fields of Kharpert, also the pile of bones in Der Zor.

It was like the whole world was given to me, when I saw that there still were revenge-minded clergy.

For the rest, open up my heart and read within.

H. Chitjian

I had woven such feelings of longing that I preferred it to going to heaven. At least, after 87 years, I was able to shake the hand of the Holy Catholicos, to hug, to kiss, to fasten my heart to his heart, and to listen to his prayers. Who knew that in my last days I might be able to give a most precious gift to my father and all the martyrs?

Also, my daughter reminded me that the Catholicos would be visiting the old-folks home the next day, and this would provide the opportunity to meet kind-hearted people. But this too proved to be wrong because of my initial bad luck.

A chicken with half its throat slashed runs away and throws itself from wall to wall till it expires. I am in a similar situation. I flail at things but to no avail. This is my luck... I don't crave glory. But looking back 52 year in America, I have not met any clergy for whom I'd have a place in my heart, other than the Holy Father, who inspired Christian feelings of a novice in me. I consider the ones that I had met previously as clergy for the assimilated.

The above photo shows how close behind my head is to the Catholicos'. My wife's head is behind Mrs. Deukmejian's, who is next to the Catholicos.

I remember the road to Der Zor where the Turkish soldiers were preventing the Armenian refugees from drinking water from the river -- they died thirsty.

This is what annoys me: The glory-seeking clergy of yore and now.

April - 1972

An Appreciation From the "Outsider Malatiatzi" Groom, "Gharib Pehsah"

When you knock at the door of paradise and heaven, it will open before you: A wish that your dream would come true, which, for a young man, is a glorious future: the love of a person who wants to build a prosperous and humble family, and to firmly form an ideal family nest together.

This happened to me in 1929, when I knocked on the door of a Malatiatzi, or it is better to say, a Malatiatzi Dehdeh, with the surname of Piloyan, Sarkis Agha, and my luck truly opened up, and my night turned into day and my hellish life turned into paradise.

Therewithal, it is my duty to also remember the person who was the cause of my lucky fate. It is impossible not to remember the name of Mexico City's philanthropist Gabriel Babayan (Dickranagerdtzi), who was the godfather of about 1000 impoverished Armenian newcomers. He was not only mine but everybody's care-taker and guardian. He was a caring, magnanimous, and noble man worthy of worship. This man was so trustworthy that many people like me entrusted their hard earned wages to him without suspicion.

One day, this ideal man, Babayan, said to me, "Hampartzoum, why don't you get married? There is a good Malatiatzi family here. Sarkis Agha has three daughters and a son. Someone from America came and took one of the girls away, while the two daughters are still here. Don't miss this opportunity, take a look." He also mentioned that many had asked for their hands and he had refused. "He knows that his daughters are precious," he continued, "however, if you make up your mind and decide I will arrange it. I don't think he would refuse me. I'll talk about you, etc." And that is what happened and Babayan became my Godfather.

With a great deal of difficulty -- it seems God also loved it, and opened the gates of heaven before me.

Also helpful to me were Sarkis Agha's son, my dear brother-in-law Hagop, as well as their mother, Hripsimeh, who had raised her children according to her ideal personality. She had taught them to be humble, home-loving, cleanliness-loving, hospitable, and how to sew and mend, and how to prepare all kinds of delicious dishes and baked goods, such as Katas, Pakhlava, beoreg, cheoreg -- especially the best of gahtmahr,15 my favorite. Whoever eats it lives long. And let us not forget Malatia's Dabshish.16 This is how my mother-in-law had trained her children. She was pretty too; her nickname in Malatia was "Good-looking Horo." I also became close with Nevart, my pretty and serious sister-in-law, whose cheerful face was worth millions.

15 A special pastry from Malatya: multilayered 10' by 12' square, baked on a "sahj" -- flat oven. 16 A sauce made with 1' cube eggplant, chopped onion, generous amounts of chopped Armenian parsley, and stewed tomato. This mixture is added to 1' square stewed lamb. In turn, this combination simmers for a short Perriod of time! 80

The proverb states that a sister-in-law is sweeter than honey, and this is truly accurate -- but a sister is a little sweeter.

What happy days they were. But happy days also remind us of the past; the days of the 1915 Genocide, when I lost my father, mother, a brother, and a sister. But now, I have found a father, mother, and also a brother and sisters.17

In addition, we were blessed by a son, Mardig, who carries my father's name. For two years his granddad carried him around on his chest and kissed him only below the neck. Alas this didn't last long, because our dear father-in-law, our dear granddad, passed away at the age of 84. After that, we had a girl, Zaruhy, she bears my sister's name, and is loved by all.

In 1932, Nshan Alashahian came from America, a lucky man like me, though unlike an outsider like me, a genuine Malatiatzi, who conquered the heart of our beloved Nevart, took her from us, and they settled in New York, where they formed a genuine Malatiatzi family. They were blessed with a son, Avedis. Currently they have three grandsons.

In 1935, when we moved to Los Angeles, America, we first went to Fresno and met the brothers Mardiros and Hagop Piloyan. We also met their mother Bibi and enjoyed her love and respect. We similarly met my brother-in-law Manoug,18 with whom we got along deeply and intimately, and whom we fully enjoyed for many years. He was a man who had a happy heart, and loved joking. Although he was a Protestant, a "Prot," he was an amusing man who sang the song "Let Me Be Near You." He also sang in Turkish in the vineyard and cheered us up. We never hurt one another till the end. He passed away, forever we still miss him. And also his wife Saydo, who was hospitable and kind, whose heart and doors were open to us. Their children were: Albert, Florence, and Alice who milked the cows, and Glady. The grandchildren were lovely -- Michael and Richard. We also enjoyed time with brother Setrag (and his wife, Mariam) in Fresno, who had two sons, Sarkis and harry, and a daughter, Lily, who was a teacher.

We visited New York in 1939. It's so good to have sisters-in-law. Sisters-in-law are sweeter than honey -- but a sister is a little sweeter. We were truly very pleased with Maritza and Nevart, who expressed their love. Maritza has one son, Haroutioun, and a lovely, piece of heart daughter, Rose. They truly deserve to be appreciated with Armenian honors.

There are many Malatiatzi families in Los Angeles. I consider myself a member of the one family, and I hope they do too. We got more intimately closer with Mr. Khoren Papazian, who, having had received the best education, was very helpful to everybody. Aram Jamgotchian19 and

17 Tragically, Hampartzoum was never able to "let go" of his incomprehensibly tragic youth ... even in paradise! 18 Manoug immigrated to Chicago in the late 1890's. 19 His wife Arousyag and daughter Violet. 81

Hovhannes Aharonian were my partners in sgembil (card game) play-mates for many years, and we never got bored with one another. Truly, they all deserve praise; though many have passed on, and some have gotten old, and the zest of the world is waning further.

When we went to France (in 1969), at length we enjoyed the loving care and respect of the Sarkis and Avedis Kepenekian20 household. Along with their little ones, they have formed a good, humble family -- especially Avedis' son (Kevork), who will soon bring honor by becoming a doctor, as well as his lovely daughter, Margarite. Their wives excel one another.

Oh, how difficult it is at the end of this hollow world, because some have parted from us, leaving us in a state of sad mourning; such as, first of all, my brother-in-law Setrag, Manoug, my sister-in-law Maritza, my dear Hagop, and the last "pepper," (straw) my dear Nevart. It is very difficult to bear it, to endure it.

Heart-wrenching news has shaken up our whole family. May God Grant heavenly paradise (to the departed), and good health and patience to those who are still amongst us.

I end with deepest feelings of respect and deep appreciation of all the Malatiatzi families I have visited. They have left me very satisfied. It seems that they respected me because of my wife. I wish it anybody that they should tie their fate to a Malatiatzi.

Hampartzoum and Ovsanna Chitjians, And the children, Mardig and Zaruhy.

344 N. Vista St. Los Angeles, Ca, 90036 Tel: 933-6458

20 Margarite, Sarkis' eldest daughter, died in the 1960'. Sarkis was born in 1906, died on 6-6-1978. Avedis died in December of 1977.

I am looking for a Vari Ichmetzi

January 6, 1980. Holy Christmas Day. A memory from hell.

What reminded me of this scene was that, on Sunday morning, Ovsanna was going to bake a frozen chicken.

Listen to this story.

In the village of Vari Ichme, 21 of us Armenian women and adolescent boys were the servants of Youlash Effendi. One day, from a few houses away, a woman of middle height came early in the morning, and woke me up saying "Let's go, a boy is dead. Let's bury him."

When I went, I saw that the boy was 17 -18 years old, and was totally frozen. The poor woman, wept and removed the boy's clothes: pants, underwear, and shirt, saying that she was going to give them to her brother. With great difficulty we managed to separate his frozen hands from his body. We grabbed him by the arms and dragged him far away to bury him. We only dug a little of the snow and we put him on it. We then covered it with some snow. We said the "Hayr Mer," and returned back in such strange thoughts and feelings, because the weather was very chilly.

There it is: a story from the life of an Armenian Christian. Let us remember once again that, Armenian Leaders are Dis-united, since those days until today. May they be turned upside down on their heads, if they do not sincerely unite. On this morning of Sacred Christmas, a Christmas carol began to play on Happy Harry's Radio Hour. And this is what shocks my heart, 83

that both at my father's house and the church, we prayed to God to come to our help, but it was of no use. My parents remained there, and we came here after living the life of a dog. This is Truth and not an opinion.

Hampartzoum wrote the following notes over a cartoon by Massis, depicting Governor George Deukmejian as Santa Clause, reading a letter from Hay Tad that says: "Dear Santa Clause, we don't want anything from you."

Armenians miraculously born from the manger in Sacramento will multiply through Unity,

In order to seek revenge on behalf of the martyrs, by crushing the vile Turk,

In order to make the dreams of an unfortunate Armenian come true.

1915: YEAR OF MOURNING BLOOD-SPATTERED DATE

My memory is fresh. It took place only yesterday, didn't it? A teardrop in the sea.

The Turkish government gave a five-day notice to the clergy and also the party members to surrender their guns. They made the church the headquarters. We had 2 parish priests, one Vartabed, 4 teachers, 10 notables, lawyer Bouloud Apkar, Meshetzi Avehdo, who was a Fedayee, and also the godfather of my twin brother.

There were also 5-6 boys to help them out by bringing them food, etc... My late father sent me also, and I was very happy. Every day when I returned home he would ask, "What did such and such priest say, what did the other people say," or "what did the teachers say, what did Fedayee

Avehdo say." And I would tell him. His response was always the same: "They are going to devour our heads...... "

There you have it: Clergy or party members in Discord.

Not only did they devour our heads, but also our bodies, all the way to our feet. And they continue to act in discord to this day, in 1993, just for their own ego deification.

And listen to what befell me...

From 1907-1914, "With Faith I confess" was the daily prayer at our home, which we recited in front of the hearth in the evenings. We used to recite each and every verse. And what good did reciting "Der Voghormia," "Lord Have Pity on Us" bring us? My father prayed sincerely and beseechingly for the last time, and for the last time slept in his home, surrounded by his family and children.

I remember vividly that one day, in the morning, my father and I went to dig around in the vineyard. He had chosen a long sprig from one of the vines and wanted to plant it a bit further away in order to have an extra grape vine. But the location was rocky and we had great difficulty digging. We removed the rocks and buried the sprig deep. And he said, "Not this year, but next year, we will be picking red grapes from here." And we began to walk on the road. When we had reached only half way, we saw a man who had escaped from our village. And he said, "Agha Mardiros, don't go to the village. They have caught many of the adults, they'll catch you too." My father said to me, "Go home; I will go toward the Kurds; then wait for my news."

Two days later, he sent two mules with his trusted Kurdish Keervaah, along with the news that Kaspar and Hampartzoum should come with the Kurd, after piling up the mules with as much Guhdavs as possible. My stepmother inquired a few people about this news. And at that time, the wily Turkish moonehdeek (town crier) began to shout, "We only want the party members; the rest should not be afraid; keep on doing what you're doing." Deceived by these words, my mother sent the Kurd back empty handed, with a letter informing him to come back because he was not in danger.

Two days later my father knocked on the door. We ran to him to kiss him and to take his walking stick. But to no avail. The policeman had noticed his return, and had followed him, and before he entered the house, he was taken to jail.

My thoughts in the margin: Offspring of Armenian; Son of Grief. So much arises from Disunity... Just ask me.....

The next day, Kaspar and I went to the makeshift jail, which was the shop of an Armenian blacksmith. They had crammed many people in and were beating them with a Zompa, a large stick. Their voices! What a pitiful site! What a pitiful memory! Now, 78 years later: remember, flare up, and forget.

The one who recited "With faith I confess," the person who added an extra vine, was my father. The one who was crying behind the door was also my father. They had beaten him up. They brought him to the back of the door. He did not see us. He barely managed to say, "Bring a little brandy." And I came home and brought him back a bottle of brandy...

Five days later, my father knocked on the door again. When we opened the door, he didn't let us touch him, because his whole body was mashed up. He barely took a few steps in when he said, "I am going to take my four sons to the government; let Aghavni marry Mehmed, the son of the Half-Armenian, half-Turkish next-door neighbor. And he took us to Turkish school, and without kissing, without saying anything, he disappeared.

May those people, these disunited leaders stand on their heads... If they do not unite sincerely. 1915-1993. They have come to the monument, but they haven't yet learned their lesson.

After my father surrendered us to the Turks, he goes home, and along with my three sisters and mother joins the other villagers. When they reach the river, my father tells my 16 year old sister to throw herself into the river. And the Euphrates River takes my sister away. When they cross to the other side of the river, a Turk wants to grab my mother, but my father tries to prevent it. First, they cut off his two ears. This is the last story that my sister Zaruhy related. In any case, not being able to bear it, she faints, and thus ends the story of our parents.

The daily prayer of my late father was "With Faith I Confess;" and during the day, most frequently it was "If such dastardly deeds are forgotten by our offsprings." But the wind swept away his wishes. None of the offsprings remember. The circumstances are even worse now. Assimilation is perpetrating the same act of genocide upon us. God saved us so that we suffer further. From 1915 to today, I've never seen such youth, but only grew old hopelessly.

Here is a story from 1916. My sister Zaruhy goes to the Caravanserai in Heleb, and recounts about the demise of our family, and unable to bear it, she faints. Her husband was in America, and her two brothers were in America. There are Armenian party members, and clergy who can bring down the saints from heaven with their sermons. But it is of no help to anyone. And to this day, after the massacres, in my mind, no Armenian is mine, and I theirs'. Don't grow up in Discord and Dis-unity. Always remember the massacres. Join hands and flourish.

With loving wishes, Hampartzoum Chitjian 87

I remember the orphans of Kharpert, 2500 of them, and the Yeprad College, and the large houses of the Armenians. A heart-wrenching story. I used to work at the Turkish bakery. I used to steal bread and take it to the orphanages. I used to mend shoes for the Turkish households. I used to take dried mulberries to the orphanages.

Listen to this story of what befell my parents.

In 1922, I went to the caravanserai next to the church. Every Armenian used to go there to get some news. I found a peasant woman. She recognized me as soon as she saw me. I approached her. She said she had spoken with my sister Zaruhy in the caravanserai. She began to weep and recounted what had befallen my father. Unable to bear it, she had fainted. And where they took her, or what happened to her, I don't Know...

My sister Zaruhy had her husband, had two brothers in America. (There are) Clergy who can bring down the saints from heaven with their sermons. There exist party members and the Benevolent Union, but they were of no use to anyone. After the massacres, I decided that any Armenian was mine and I was everybody's. Leave aside Discord and Dis-unity. Let us remember the massacres, join hands and multiply.

This brother of mine also heard what had happened to our parents and began to cry. He used to always say, "Why did god ensnare us is in such calamity?"

The marriage of this tragic sister of mine lasted only three months. She went to America and joined her in-laws. They were Protestant, while my sister was apostolic. Her husband and his two sisters bullied her...

I remember it well. My sister came to our house and fainted. Only a massacre. Misery has a surrounded the Armenian Nation.

3. Mihran Mirakian, the blade, the iron mesh of the window, the stone of Muselleh, Korr Mamoe, stealing of honey, his giving of peaches to my brothers.

6. The attack of the Kurds, Doudoukhaz giving the news, I told Kaspar to tell his Effendi to take me with them. The crossing of the Hosheh River, falling into the water.

7. Hampartzoum Der-Garabedian coming over twice.

8. My joining the Kurds, and the road in the cold and rainy mountains, my removing of the eye of the sheep, my bringing of water at night, I left Msro's sheep in the mountains, a small goat saved me, I took off but didn't know where I was going, the boy at the bridge.

Hampartzoum,

Here's the picture of our building: 45 feet in the front, 108 feet in the back. There is a grocery store on the ground floor, and above it there is a doctor's office. This is where Pete and I say "Yes Ma'am" all day until evening.

The one with his hands in his pockets is Pete. I am the one saluting. The other person standing is an Italian who takes care of the vegetable section.

Your brother, Kaspar

To the Chitjian family,

We congratulate your New Year, and wish you a long life and strong health.

Paligian family.

Mr. and Mrs. Chitjian,

On the occasion of the New Year, accept our best wishes. We wish you health and happiness, long life, and world peace.

Khosrov, Siranoush Vorperian and family.

My respectable Brother,

I wish you long and happy years. Let us "5" five brothers enjoy the glory of this world.

Your genuine brother, Kaspar

1915 -- In Perri 1994, January 22

Shame on the clergy, the disunited ones.

2002, February 13, Remember and flare up.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

This is my twin brother, A piece of my heart.

Rashid and Rooshdi, 6 years in hell.

We found one another in 1923. We lived together.

In 1983 he left me alone.

The first photograph in 1923.

The last photograph in 1981, on his 80th birthday.

PERRI

In Western Armenian literature it is better known as Perri. It is mentioned as a district and township.

It is located in Dersim, about 38 kilometers north east of the city of Kharpert, in the lower valley of the river Perri, enclosed within two mountain chains, spread over a beautiful promontory full of vineyards and vegetable gardens. Its elevation from sea level is 1040 meters. The climate is mild, with abundant snow in the forests, and with relatively warm summers. It serves as the (administrative) center for the province of Charsandjak and the district of Perri.

Perri has never been abundantly populated. It is a small town. In 1872-73, it had a population of 300 Armenian, and 80 Kurdish and Turkish households,21 while in 1893-1900, it had a population of 753 Armenian, and 100 Kurdish and Turkish households. Its total population right before WW I was barely 4500 people. Nevertheless, Perri was considered as the business, craft and cultural center of the Charsandjak province. It was connected to the many villages of the province through local roads. It was well known for its orchards. Farming was the central occupation amongst the population, with grapes and mulberries as the primary yield. Commerce was fundamentally on a small scale and was confined within the borders of the province. Of the crafts, gold-smithing, fabric production, as well as butcher stores were especially conspicuous.

The majority of the town's houses were two-storied, with flat, earthen roofs. The second floors of the houses served as dwelling places, while the first floors served as stable, hayloft, woodshed, bake-house. It had six main streets: Galerou Tagh, Shougayi Tagh, Yegeghetsvo Tagh, Gamar-Aghpiuri Tagh, Khorchougi Tagh, and Don-Aghpiuri Tagh. All of these were populated by Armenians, except for Shougayi Tagh, where 80-100 Turkish and Kurdish families resided.

The Armenians had their church, which carried the name of St. Asdouadzadzin. During the second half of the XIXth century and the beginning of the XXth, there was an active school here with 80-100 students, and also a preparatory school.

Like in hundreds of other dwelling places in Western Armenia, during the days of the First World War, Perri too was subjected to massacres and destructions organized by the genocidal Turks. A large portion of its inhabitants fell victim to the Turkish sword, and those who survived one way or another were deported to various locations. According to reliable sources, there are still a few Armenian families there.

The Mishmish family (from my grandfather's side) were very good shoemakers, and in exchange for teaching Mihran shoemaking, they used to give him a large tin can to collect dog droppings. He disliked doing this intensely, but whether he liked it or not, he collected. However, in the end, without learning how to make shoes, he went to America.

According to the book "History of the Charsandjak Armenians", Marsoub Mshmshian, Sarkis Mshmshian, Avak, Ohan and Bedros Mshmshian.

21 "Abbreviation by the National Committee", 1872-1873, page 65, B. Natanian, Ardos of Armenia or Report on Palu, Kharpert, Charsandjak, Djabaghchour and Yerzenga, C. Bolis, 1883, page 138. 96

In October of 2002, during the final preparations for publishing the English version of the book, Lena Gaimian informed that she had come across the Mishmishian surname in the Chicago Armenian telephone directory. We had written quite a lot about the Mishmshians -- that we used to call them "Uncle's family," etc. Through a telephone conversation we learned about Levon (Leo) Mishmishian's and his elder sister Havas' survival -- the four brothers, Ohan, Garabed, Apraham and Mesrob Mishmishians were Apraham's children. By the time we managed to find and contact them, Levon's second wife, Mary Mishmishian, informed us that 40 days earlier Levon had passed away at the age of 95.

And that's our luck -- as always. When we enquired about Levon's life, his kind wife found the time and sent us her husband's memoirs, which had been published in Chicago on April 25, 1981, in the "Armenian Weekly". Levon, who departed from the same country, at the same time, from the same city as I, but who had been saved by a different twist of fate, at a different time, living in a different city, recounts the same thing -- with the sole exception that he also knows the taste of deportations-massacres. He had seen with his own eyes the torture and murder of his family members, and the group torture and murder of hundreds of men, mothers, little children, and young brides, etc. From a group of 700 that left Perri, only 35 reached Haleb a few months later, after suffering unheard of, never before seen, and impossible tortures and murders. In 1920, they left Haleb for America, through the mediation of Havas' husband, who lived in America.

The Mishmishians were four brothers: Apraham, Ohan, Garabed and Marsoub. They were shoemakers and had a large house, with the street passing under and through it. Their shoe store was located behind the church and Hampartzoum's house, on the edge of the market, beyond the bakery. Of the brothers, Marsoub was a teacher. Hampartzoum's family used to call them "The Mshmshes, the uncle's family". They were close relatives from the grandfather's side. In a 1914, Dec. 20 letter, in Kaspar's handwriting, we read: "Also sending regards are your uncles, the Mshmshes. The large household has become 3 small ones: uncle Ohan moved out with his children, uncle Mesrob is separate, uncle Garabed is separate, and the children of all three households kiss your hands and the adults send regards."

Apraham, his wife, eldest daughter's son, Boghos Mismishian (is mentioned in the History of Charsandjak book, in the list of students -- was of Levon's age), the daughter, Havas, Havas' daughter little Araxi and Ohan's son, Sarkis' wife, were deported together. On the road, they kill Apraham along with the men near Palu. The mother..... Boghos dies in Haleb. Then Havas' daughter dies. Only Levon and Havas survive, and in 1920, they move to America. Havas has a daughter, Araxi, and a son, Harry. Araxi has two daughters and two sons. Levon does not have children. Havas passes away in 1965, Levon has passes away in 2002. Ohan had three sons: Kevork, Sarkis and Stepan. Kevork and Sarkis were in America, together with Havas' husband, Nshan Hakalmazian. In 1909, Kevork marries a 20 year old girl by the name of Zaruhy, and moves to America, to Chicago. Has a daughter that year by the name of Olga. In 1914, Zaruhy, 97

along with her five year old daughter, Olga, returns to the homeland, and is ensnared in the 1915 massacres. We don't know how she stayed alive along with her daughter. But we know, according to Hampartzoum's recounting, that she became Dr. Michael Hagopian's washer woman, and also became a "mayrig", that is, taking care of the orphans in the American orphanage together with Zabel Chakmakjian and Guzel (Zabel) Hakalmazian. Therefore, she also helps out Hampartzoum and Kerop. In 1922, after removing all the orphans out of Turkey, Zaruhy, together with Olga, returns to America. Zaruhy Passes away in 1961, at the age of 76, in America.

Sarkis' wife, Zarma, had passed away during the deportation track, at the time of the exile. Sarkis marries for the second time and has two daughters.

In the "History of Charsandjak Armenians," there are Levon Mishmishian, Boghos Mishmishian, Araxi, Yester, Hagop, Markar Hakalmazians.

We don't have any other news. 09/05/03

In a letter from Mamuret Aziz dated 5/18, 4/1920, Hampartzoum says that, "Over here, we lovingly interact with Zaruhy and Almasd (perhaps it is Havas.)

ARCHBISHOP NERSES MELIK TANKIAN Born in 1866, March 16 - died in 1948, September 28

Meritorious Prelate of the Aderbadagan Prelacy. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his speech was impressive, and he was well-acquainted with the history and literature of the Armenian people and the world. For 36 years he served continuously as the brave Primate of the Armenians of Aderbadagan. Archbishop Melik Tankian was born in 1866, March 16, in the village of Pernagot in Zankezour. His baptism name was Nigoghayos. He received his primary education in the village of his birth, and subsequently went to the Kevorkian Academy of St. Etchmiadzin. In 1896, he was accepted to the law faculty of the Saint Petersburg University.

He dedicated himself to the education of the new generation. He served as a teacher in his own village, in Shushi and Baku, until the government closed down the Armenian schools. In 1899, Melik Tankian resigned from the secular world and during the days of Khrimian Hayrig in Etchmiadzin, he was ordained as a celibate priest to serve at the Datev Monastery, and as the assistant to the prelate of Zankezour. During the Armenian-Tartar clashes, the Russian government forced Khrimian Hayrig to recall friar Nerses and reprimand him for his nationalistic activities. He did recall him and appointed him as the head of the chancery at St. Etchmiadzin. In 1907, the government exiled him to the Saint Cross Monastery in Crimea. In 1912, after obtaining the religious rank of Bishop, and subsequently, Archbishop, Melik Tankian was appointed as the Primate of the Aderbadagan Prelacy. The Holy Father was not only loved and respected by the people, but also commanded great authority with the higher echelons of the government. He received from Ahmad Shah, the last Ghachar king of Iran, the "Shir O Khorshid" medal. On April 23, 1926, during the coronation of Reza Shah, he presented himself to the Shah to deliver a gift from the Armenians of Iran.

He always read Armenian and foreign language books, and kept in touch with Armenia newspapers, and has written many articles.

Being a legal scholar, he published "The Rights of the Armenian Church," in two volumes. He headed the committee to codify the inheritance and family rights law-book for Iranian Armenians, which was certified in 1933 by the Iranian government, and was implemented in 99

regards to the Iranian Armenians, according to which, marriages, divorces, all types of religious ceremonies, and the implementation of inheritance issues, belonged to the Qualified Bodies of the Armenians. He has constantly cared for Armenian schools. He has founded schools in the villages, according to local conditions, so that that the children become at least literate.

In 1915, when the Turkish army entered Iran, a portion of the Armenians in Urmia, Salmasd, Khoy, and also Tavriz, in order to avoid being massacred by the Dajigs, had with great difficulty reached the Iranian city of Chulfa, in order to pass onto the Russian side. Melik Tankian arrives in Chulfa, gets in touch with the high ranking Russian officials, and receiving permission, he settles the Armenian refugees in Tiflis and other Russian cities and towns.

In 1918, the Turkish army, under the command of Nuri Pasha, enters Tavriz. The Holy Father, with the assistance of Tavriz resident Dickran Khan Koroyan, who was a higher degree Freemason than Ihsan Pasha, saves the Tavriz Armenians from pillage and massacres. Having suffered losses on another front, the Turks quickly retreat from Tavriz.

The Armenians who had survived the genocide by the skin of their teeth, and who were now staying in Salmasd, Urmia, and Tavriz, relied on Melik Tankian to get them permission to stay in Iran and to find them jobs.

On December 2, 1920, when the Republic of Armenia was overthrown and the government fell into the hands of the Soviets, about 14,000 refugees, among them a larger number of intellectuals and Tashnag operatives enter Tavriz. The Holy Father, settles them in the homes of the Armenians, makes arrangements with the government to have them stay there, and begins to provide them with jobs in Tavriz and other cities. A few months later, Zankezour also was unable to resist the Red Army, and General Nejteh, who after staying in the village of Mujampar near Tavriz, comes to Tavriz, which creates a great deal of difficulty for the Holy Father, because Nejteh was in hiding to avoid the Soviet pursuers. Gradually, Tavriz became peaceful.

On 12 June, 1926, in Tavriz and other the Iranian cities, the 60th birthday and 40th year of activity of Melik Tankian was celebrated with great fanfare. However, Soviet Armenian agents were pursuing the Holy Father, trying all means to take him back to Etchmiadzin, to stop him from nationalistic activities. Because of the vigilant stance of the Armenian people, they failed to achieve their goal.

In June of 1945, Melik Tankian was invited to Tehran to consecrate the St. Asdouadzadzin Church which had been built by national philanthropist Roman Khayian. Participating in the consecration were: Catholicos Karekin Hovsepian, Patriarch Guregh Israelian, Archbishop Mampre Sirounian, and many high level clergy from the Diaspora, who were to leave later for St. Etchmiadzin, to participate in Catholicos Kevork VI Chorekchian's election and consecration on June 29, 1945. Melik Tankian did not go, because of the stance of the Armenian 100

government. In 1941, the Red Army entered Iran, and communist groups were formed under the name of "Tudeh and Democrat", and the Holy Father was put under quite a deal of pressure.

In 1945-1946, the self-proclaimed Iranian-Azeri government was formed by Pishevari's Democrat-Communist Party, which did not last longer than a year. The Iranian Government, with military force and under international pressure conquered Aderbadagan. After Conquering Tavriz, they treated the Holy Father with great respect.

On September 28, 1948, The Holy Father passed away. An unprecedented national and state funeral was organized. Participating in the funeral were: A large crowd of Armenians, a large portion of Tavriz' Iranians, Aderbadagan's Commander-General Shah Pakhdi together with his military delegation, state operators, the brass band of the army, and diplomatic representatives.

A large number of articles have been written about Archbishop Der Nerses Tankian, as well as the book "Memorial Book of Archbishop Nerses Melik Tankian," where a large volume of impressions by our public personalities have been gathered by Iranian intellectual Arsen Mamian.

101

Priests Der Boghos and Der Garabed

In 1900, the priests for Perri were Der Boghos Der Garabedian and Der Garabed Mazmanian.

Der Boghos was one of the last priests in Perri. He was a kind, sinless, dedicated clergyman. While Khoren Pashalian, being younger, was infused with ideas of liberation and revolutionary ideals. Two revolvers were never missing from his hips. On Sundays, all the youth would listen to his sermons with galvanized absorption, when along with the word of God he used to articulate the voice of freedom. They used to say that he had relations with the fedayees. Alas ... the saying "Man's thoughts, God's will," was proven yet once more for this brave, martyred man of the cloth.

102

1915... April 24 1987... May 25

Memorial Day -- Rose Hills... A piece of writing on the way to the cemetery.

* Plenty of sorrow, * Plenty of tears, * Plenty of patience, * Plenty of stormy memories: The dry mulberries of Perchench, the home of Dr. Michael, * The bastards of America, * The Turks of the homeland, 103

* Plenty of hatred toward past and present leaders who are in "Disunity," * Plenty of harsh fire of God, * Plenty of visits to the cemetery, * Plenty of ... fights ... with dead people.

There you have it -- the life of an inconsolable survivor.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

From my father's house, six brothers, 3 sisters -- all gone.

My hope is my wife, my light my daughter.

(I am) the son of disunited Armenians, 87 years old.

A song from 1915, my cousin Hmayag used to sing in the orphanage.

104

Be good, friends, And save us from the sad grief.

Our eyes have been terrified by what they saw, Our ears from what they heard.

We are not afraid of hell. Our lives have already been through hell.

October 3, 1996

Throughout my whole life, sorrow, tears, patience and especially bitter memories (have been with me.)

105

The dry mulberries of Perchench have given a great deal of nourishment to the disunited Armenian offsprings.

I won't exchange Dr. Michael's home with paradise, nor with the faith of Jesus.

America's bastards -- the pains of hell. Monsters that suck blood.

The tearful words of the two women in Perri.

May America collapse on top of them ... (unclear) life-destroying American bastards. Listen to me orally.

Disunited Armenian leaders, God's wrathful fire, Fights with dead people, A useless course. I wish I could find someone to help me alleviate my sorrow and pain.

Gotten old and hopeless, Hampartzoum Chitjian

106

Khosrov Yerevanian ...unclear

I was confused. I did not ask Hagop from where he found me and brought me. My sole and only thought was that my brother Kerop was with me. I was very lucky that Dr. Michael was at home. He came down, and grabbed me as I was shivering ... (unclear) He laid me down on the ground, and put water in my eyes for half an hour. We became two servants in the same household. But they treated us like members of the family. He was a very kind man. His son Hagop lives here. Very often we get together and reminisce about Dr. Michael's home and the dry mulberries of Perchench. He has helped a great number of poor Armenians.

Elder brother Kevork's writing (Last Day) -- sad, black days. They came and left. They enveloped us and went. The last day of my father -- a terrifying memory. They took my father to jail and for 3-4 weeks flogged him thoroughly. When I and my twin brother Kaspar visited the jail, they brought him to the door, and from behind the door he said "bring a little brandy." He also told us to take all the goods in the house, 100 bundles of fabric, to the house of the Turkish neighbor whose name was Guru Osman. They used to call him Oso. They were an elderly husband and wife. We did what he asked us to do. One day he (father) knocked on the door. We opened it. My father was limp and agitated, his clothes bloody. He wasn't able to speak. He had no energy. He said he was going to give his four sons to the Turks. And he took us to the government without making a sound or giving a kiss, etc. He goes home, and with all the others they go to the village of Hosheh. He tells my 16 year old sister to throw herself into the river. The river Yeprad (Euphrates) swallows her. They cut off his ears. The rest ... (unclear).

107

The above photo shows how close behind my head is to the Catholicos'. My wife's head is behind Mrs. Deukmejian's, who is next to the Catholicos.

I remember the road to Der Zor where the Turkish soldiers were preventing the Armenian refugees from drinking water from the river -- they died thirsty.

This is what annoys me: The glory-seeking clergy of yore and now.

108

The movie commemorating the April Genocide that is being shown is only 45 minutes long, but even if we recount its contents night and day for 45 years, it won't be enough.

For example, first, let me and my twin brother Kaspar bear witness. We are still alive and we have always recounted, and will recount further, about what the savage Turk did, and what other things they are thinking of doing.

The Turks used to say, "Wish I had even the least Armenian mind." What they're saying is: the Armenians are currently disunited; be afraid when they unite.

Therefore, let us come to the purpose of the central subject: the movie that our dear Hagopig is showing -- even I am in it. Hagopig is the first little Armenian boy whom I have lovingly hugged and taken on strolls when he was barely 2 1/2, 3 years old. He and his sister had a white sheep. The story is long. But, he has kept it short. He shows me in the film in only two places: in one I say, "Was there perchance an Armenian word also?" And in the other I say, "The Ararat Mountain is a far better place for the Armenians than paradise. One day, it will be in our hands again." I don't blame him for cutting it short. Instead, I appreciate that he was kind enough to one day come to our house, bringing along his American friend. First, he conveyed to me at the dining table that he was going to photograph me about what has affected me most -- to briefly recount to him in my garden about those pitiful days. Our dinner lasted over an hour. I recounted to him how I had escaped from the hands of the Turk, and as a fugitive had gone to Persia.

And so we went to my garden. They attached the microphone on me, went behind the camera equipment, and I became emotional and began to recount thus:

My name is Hampartzoum Chitjian, the son of Mardiros and Trfanda. We were six brothers and three sisters: Bedros, Mihran, Hampartzoum, Kaspar, Kerop, Nshan, Zaruhy, Sultan, Yeranuhie. The rules in our house were so fine that it would be rare to find them in any other family. Both in the manner of Christians and lovingly, my father sent us to school, and at home trained us to recite the "With Faith I Confess," a prayer which consists of 24 verses, and to line up in front of the hearth, and for each one of us to recite one verse. Also, seated with our legs crossed, we used to recite "Lord Have Mercy," by saying, "God, give peace to the world, to our Armenian nation freedom, love and unity, and healing to the sick." And my father used to always say, "Not 109

a single leaf could move without the order of God; God is compassionate, takes pity, punishes the bad; knock, and it shall be opened; ask, and it shall be given to you."

Well, here is the proof for you. In 1915, my father grabbed us four brothers by the hand -- me, Kaspar, Kerop and Nshan -- and took us to the school and surrendered us to them so that we escape death. They had told him beforehand that they were going to kill everyone, and that it was best "that your sons become Turks to stay alive." On the road, my father walked with us without making a sound and without tears. My father did not reveal his condition through moist eyes, but the fire within him was wrathful. When he was parting from us, he said: "You should stay here. They are going to take as to America. We will send you money later so that you come there also." And in this way he disappeared. Imagine what emotions this pitiful man, this deeply prayerful servant of God felt, as he left his four children to the Turks and departed. Anybody who says that the Turk is good, may his mouth dry up. It's been 62 years, but even with another 62 years it is still impossible to forget. Some who did not suffer too much during those horrifying days, say "My Effendi," "My Khanum," referring to the Turkish men and women who saved them, but they don't think about how much blood of innocent Armenians they (the Turks) have sucked. Of course, what do you expect from the Turkish Nation that lives without working. They are cunning, and also, relying on their geographical position, play music on two strings: They profit both from America and Russia. They laugh to the face of both of them and endure. And God helps them too -- this cannibalistic nation. To whom should we plead now? There is no other way but to unite, to extend hands to one another, and one day our God too would awaken, like the Protective God of the Jews, who performed miraculous works, and who will give them still more because they have now become a very united nation.

After my father surrendered us to the Turk, we four brothers, strewn here and there, were left without a guardian. Meanwhile, they had taken my father and three sisters, and my mother, together with the others, to a place a few hours away called Ghazan Ravine (in Armenian Gatza Ravine), a large and deep place, and had killed them along with all the other Armenians. The only remnants were the girls who had surrendered to the lust of the Turks, like my sister Zaruhy, who had reached Haleb after an arduous journey. Before dying, she had recounted that our stepmother was beautiful, and a Turk had wanted to touch my mother. But my father had resisted. The Turk had cut off his ears and then had murdered him. My sister Sultan, who was 16, had already drowned after throwing herself into the Perri River, in order not to become the slave of the Turk, but to die with Christian blood. My brother Nshan, 6 years old, had been thrown into the waters of Pertak, after they had slashed his belly. My brother Kaspar, 9 years old, had become a servant in Pertak. My brother Kaspar was loved by his Effendi and thus passed his days relatively unscathed. But I, perhaps because I was more sinful, lived through harrowing days. For 2 1/2 years I roamed from village to village, with the burdens of a dog, in order to meet a compassionate person who at least would not threaten to kill me. Our daily wage was permission to collect the remnants from the food table, and by adding water to turn it into hot soup. We slept in the stables next to the animals. By digging into the manure, it was the heat of 110

the steam that kept us alive despite the winter cold. As for our clothes, we took them off the bodies of dead soldiers and washed them.

It was like this everywhere.

The Turks changed my name to Rushdie, but in order to insult me, they used to call me Gyavur Bokheh, "Infidel shit." In truth, it is not a good thing to repeat bad Turkish words, but I have been affected so much from those horrifying days, that we have to remember what we have said and done for the sake of saving our lives. We had no choice but to say both "There is no God but God, and Muhammad is His prophet," and another one about the Armenian religion, symbolized by the cross.

"Cross, Cross, beloved cross. Lift your head up, open your eyes. He is Ottoman, he is strong. He has a strong fist. He strikes me and makes me shit on you."22

They used to make us draw a cross on the ground, and we had to say our salavat (recitation), because of which I am now here alive. Because of the dis-unity of our ancestors, in those days millions were martyred and upon thousands befell a fate like mine. One of the people who uttered the above Salavat and was saved is alive. He is a Perchenchtzi.

Krikor Bedoian, 2114 Webster, Sanger, California, 93657 Tel: 209-875-2076

Please write to him, or go and see another burned-hearted Armenian servant of God.

22 Hagopig has a copy of these life-saving words. Whether you like it or not, this is the truth. 111

"With Faith I Confess"

My feelings about this prayer when seven years old. The customs of my familial home in 1907 -- in front of the hearth of a large household.

My grandfather would stand on the right of the hearth and my father on the left, in the middle, my elder brothers Bedros and Mihran. I and my brother Kaspar would alternate reciting the verses until all 24 were recited. Afterwards, going down on our knees, we would pray, "God have pity on us, give peace to the world, healing to the sick, the chance to see one another to those who yearn, and to our Armenian nation freedom." It continued like this until 1915. My father used to tell a story about the proof that one could benefit from this prayer... but ... A merchant piles up a few mules with goods to take them to a faraway place to sell them. Every night, when he stops to rest, he recites all 24 verses of "With Faith I confess," and is thus surrounded by 24 walls that protect him.

One day, he falls asleep after reciting only 23 verses. He forgets to recite one of the verses ... and one wall. Since he forgot to recite one verse, one wall stays open. The thieves who were following him see that there is an opening at one of the walls. Right when they begin to enter

112

through that open passage, the merchant wakes up and recites the un-recited verse. The walls fall on the thieves and the merchant is saved.

There you have a story that I had heard from my father. I remember that from 1907 to 1923, this was the prayer that I knew by heart -- even when I got to America.

But how is that prayer beneficial to me, other than that I am alive, and I sorrowfully pass my days by recounting black tales?

Isn't this after all a shame to be a slave to others for 700 years?

H. Chitjian

The grace of the mother of the priest of the St. Hagop Church.

Nor Malatya

(Turkish and Armenian notes in the margin of the poem "Der-Zor" by Kevork Emin.)

In the entire world, Wherever it may be, When a person is martyred -- Whether powerful or useless, Whether in peace or suddenly, - There is a headstone over his tomb.

In Der-Zor there is not a single monument, Nor a commemorative statue 113

And not a single memorial, There's not even a single ... headstone ... There isn't, There never was -- Who could have dug a million and a half graves? Who could have placed a headstone? Even stony, stone-filled Armenia Does not have that many stones, Sufficient for our tragic martyrs.

There's not a single monument in Der Zor: What giant monument, Or what tombstone could have covered This tomb of The numberless, Uncountable, Never ending victims?

Der-Zor itself Is its own sole monument and Commemorative statue, - This earth, having turned into a dry marsh from tears, This sand, coagulated by red blood, This thorn and thistle, Like vengeance erupting out of the earth, These cold stars, The eyes of countless martyrs, And this crescent, The sharp scimitar that slaughtered the Armenians...

Der-Zor itself Is its own monument, Statue and memorial.

March 2, 1978, Der-Zor Desert

Whose heart would not be touched by this title and meaning? Only the vile Turk's and of those who have disgusting hearts like them.

The song 114

In the hot desert of Der-Zor the sun is shining, The Ottoman soldier is greasing his bullets. The Armenian refugees are weeping intensely, The Armenians who are clinging to their faith.

We went from Baghdad to Mosul together with two Vanetzi boys. At night at the hotel, we converted our money to gold. I sewed them in my suspenders, while the other boys sewed them in their trousers and jackets, near the neck. Half way to Der-Zor, Arab brigands began to rob us. I dropped my suspenders to the ground, covered it with sand, then stood up and gave my clothes to them. They tore them up, and took the small amount of money that was there. But the money of the boys was gone. When we got back on the bus, one of the boys began to scare me that he was going to betray me (informing the others) that my money was saved, and that the 13 Arabs who were thoroughly robbed might take it away from me, and that he had lived in Baghdad and knew Arabic. When we reached the vicinity of Der-Zor, the bus stopped in a ravine for water. This guy insisted. Out of fear I gave my suspenders to him. When we got to Der-Zor, the government gave a free hotel room for us three boys. After we got in, I told my other friend to go out and bring water. And when he went out, I locked the door and went after the guy who had taken my suspenders. I hit him and he hit me. The Arabs entered through the window and took us to the government. This was during the English administration. But the Arab judge was unable to find out who's (suspenders) it was. I told him it was my suspenders because it was clear from the holes for the buttons. And he realized the truth. He reproached us saying, "How could you Armenians fight over money after so much tragedy." Then he said that he was going to take us to show us bones of Armenians. "I am certain that you are going to help each other," he said. And he took us to a place a short distance away where there were two large piles of bones. He said, "Perhaps some belong to members of your family ..."

This Arab official also said that life is worth more than money. I promised him I would do all I could. And I did. When we got to Haleb, one of them had a father in Egypt and the other had a brother in Lyon, France. They wrote and received money, and we parted amicably. I still have their pictures. I'll show it to those who want to see it. There you have it: the story of the bones of Armenians in Der-Zor.

When 10 years ago I went to Antelias, Beirut, I saw a few more skulls in the monastery's memorial room. But compared to what I had seen ... in the Ghazan Ravine in Perri, near the village of Hoshay, I saw the bones of the peasants from Perri and all the nearby villages; on the banks of the Perri River, I saw the hairs of Armenian girls wrapped around the trees; under the bridge of the village of Khoushi I saw small and large limbs -- plenty of them; I saw the body, face of my close classmate Krikor Yezegian -- many had their eyes gouged; with Korr Mamoe I saw 3 Armenians who had been tied together from foot to neck -- their heads were missing. Do you want me to recount more, or are you fed up from listening and I from telling? 115

This dictates that we should save brave Kourken Yanikian,23 so that our hearts cool off a little. And let God increase the number of such fighters amongst us. With what lack of scruples can one sit at a table to eat, while this 86 year old, who, having done his heavenly work, is suffering. Such men are worth more than rich people who give money to build churches. Truly, those people ought to be appreciated. But the man who saves this man will go to paradise.

23 Kourken Yanikian was an Armenian-American author and engineer, who assassinated two Turkish consular officials in California on January 27, 1973. Yanikian was sentenced to life in prison on July 2, 1973. Yanikian was sentenced to life in prison on 02.07.1973 where several members of the jury were reported to have had tears in their eyes as the verdict was read. Yanikian was sentenced to life in prison on 02.07.1973 where several members of the jury were reported to have had tears in their eyes as the verdict was read. Yanikian was sentenced to life in prison on 02.07.1973 where several members of the jury were reported to have had tears in their eyes as the verdict was read. 116

Dr. Michael's House

Be in my shoes and bear it -- don't complain to your creator. Do you want me to recount more? But there is no end to it. The only happy days were when I would regularly take the doctor's daughter and son Hagopig for a stroll. My brother would grab one and I would lift the other to my bosom. They used to have a white goat. Daily, for an hour or two, we used to take them for a stroll to the garden and back. Hagopig would be a little jealous of his sister. He wanted me to always hold him in my bosom or to pay attention to him. He was barely 2 1/2 years old, and I would hug him and kiss him and pass my days joyfully. And he loved me very much also. To this day, when I see him I kiss him heartily. A gardener by the name of Asadour from Kesserig used to work in their private garden. Every kind of vegetable could be found in the garden: cucumbers, striped Armenian cucumbers, carrots, eggplants, squash and mulberries. It was located right next to the German orphanage. I used to throw over the fence many things from the garden for the orphans so that they eat them. Often, they used to bring the orphans out, and although they were well dressed, they looked very thin and malnourished. Among them was our dear friend Mr. Vart Dervishian who was a little boy. He still remembers those days, and he too has enjoyed the fruits of Hagopig's father's garden. There was not a single Armenian in Kharpert who did not receive help from this honorable man: Dr. Michael Hagopian -- not only in Kharpert but also in Malatya, where he was the doctor of my Wife's parents.

We praise him proudly.

117

A DESIRABLE NAME: OVSANNA

It is mentioned in the churches once a year: "Ovsanna e partzounes" ... In Armenian (Ovsanna of the Heights) "Ovsanna De La Alturas" ... In Spanish But in my heart every hour, every minute

1929 ... A Sacrifice to Your Soul ... 1998

THREE OVSANNAS First: 1917, Kharpert, at the Prelacy, where Archbishop Kud Mkhitarian was Prelate. He had provided only sleeping-space to 50-60 Armenian orphan boys -- who had to make a living from the outside. From hunger and filthiness a cholera (mad typhoid) epidemic had flared up, and I, my younger brother Kerop, and three other boys had gotten infected. Thanks to the help of Doctor Michael Hagopian, we were accepted at the American hospital. A nurse was working there, the first angel named Ovsanna, the offspring of a Keseregtzi. One of her eyes was damaged and they had put a glass one instead. She was also responsible for taking care of German aviators. Good willingly she helped us also. For 30 days, (she gave us) no bread, no food, only medicine. She used to bathe us every day and advised us saying, "I will help you, and you (should help) your nation." The first angel, Ovsanna... A heart-wrenching story. We, my brother and I, survived, miserable and pitiful ... Giragos died...

Second: 1921, City of Tavriz, Persia, the Armenian Prelacy. Archbishop Melik Tankian was there. They examined us, two boys who had escaped from Kharpert, myself and Nazaret, the nephew of Yeghoyan, Kharpert's Reverend. He gave each one of us 5 toumans and said, "Look outside, it is filled with twenty thousand refugees from Armenia. All of them are hungry and shelter-less; you have to fend for yourselves."

118

With great desire I found the A.R.F.,24 my flame, my light. Thinking that my sun had dawned, I went and registered. They used to pay one Touman for living expenses. After only two, three weeks, the A.R.F. Bureau chose me to assassinate a Bolshevik Armenian boy by the name of Levon. I began to tremble. Wasn't what the Turks did enough? We barely managed to survive death, and now Armenian against Armenian? And what about all the suffering I had endured till I got there? I said, "I cannot kill Levon, my conscience won't allow it..." They threw me out of the Committee. I barely endured going hungry 2-3 days. It was very bad. I heard that two brothers from the Yeghek village of Kharpert had a restaurant there and maybe they might help me. I went, but they refused me, saying that I was not a sincere Armenian, because I had opposed the Committee. I said, "I don't want money, I just want to lick the plates, wash and clean them." They didn't give me the job, no, no, no...

I went outside and saw that the dirty water from the dishwashing was flowing out, and wanted to avail myself of it. But it was very dirty; I wasn't able to bear it. I barely managed to lean my back against the wall, and fainting, I fell down. At that moment, God came to my help. An earthly angel by the name of David, a Vartateltzi (in the book he is identified as a Bezmeshentzi), helped me out and took me to his home. His sister's name was Ovsanna, the second angel Ovsanna. At night, he removed, washed and dried his undergarments, and in the morning he took them and sold them. We went to a Persian bakery, bought two loaves of bread and I survived death... Currently, angelic David's Angelic sister is still here. She lives in Los Angeles. Quite often we see one another. Oh, what an emotion-laden world for you!

And now let us focus on the third Saint of Saints: My Ovsanna...

1929, Mexico City.

With great difficulty I earned 15,000 pesos, which I was saving working for an honorable Dickranagerdtzi Armenian, who had established himself in Mexico City a long time earlier (for about 30 years). He had a very high position and had helped all the Armenians who had escaped the massacres and come to Mexico, by finding them work. He was the "father" of all the Armenians. I was already 28 years old when I decided to get married. This honorable Armenian found me suitable for the Piloyan family that had escaped from Malatia and had come there. The late Saint Sarkis Piloyan Baba had two daughters, Ovsanna and Nevart, and a son, Hagop. All the Armenians used to call him "Dede" (Grandpa).

Ovsanna became my best friend in life. We were graced by one son, his name Mardiros, who bore my father's name, and one lovely daughter, her name Zaruhy, my sister's name, who in these difficult days of mine, like a saint took care of both her mother and I --my one and only, sincere, humble daughter. May God be with my treasured daughter.

24 Armenian Revolutionary Federation -- Tashnagtzoutioun. 119

Her ill mother used to always shout "Zarug" whenever she was unhappy with the nurse who was there to take care of her. And Zarug, seated next to her would say, "Wake up mother, wake up mother, I am here..." When there was no noise, she would only rest for an hour or two. We lived together in concordance, to this day ... 68 years ... a piece of my heart, the angel: Ovsanna, a sacrifice to her soul...

Ovsanna was born on May 15, 1906, in Malatia. Presently, today, in Los Angeles, at 3:00 PM on Saturday, May 2, 1998, she was in my right arm breathing with difficulty when she suddenly closed her mouth. The nurse, whose name was Eileen, told me that she had passed away already -- black day, black hour. She removed the breathing apparatus, left her warm body in the embrace of my right arm for 2 hours, until the doctor came and told us that we should take her to a mortuary... What more can I write anymore? How could I write...? May God bless her soul. She went; she was saved from this hellish world. Soon, I shall go too and take hold of my angel, my Ovsanna.

For the sake of my Zarug I'm holding myself firm, thinking that leaving my daughter and the light of my eye alone would be very difficult. It would be ungodly. For as long as I can, I will keep her in my heart, if God would help me bear it. My daughter is suffering as she weeps over her mother. May God be with her and take pity on me, so that I could stay a little longer with her, in my broken down state of old age and hopelessness...

Hampartzoum

Respectable Arkan -- Lord Father,

Forgive me; I have written this in sorrow; might be difficult for you to read...

The following are the names of my piece of heart Ovsanna's father and her family members.

Her father, Sarkis Piloyan, was born in1849 in the city of Choungoush. Having been orphaned at a very early age, he grew up in the family of his cousin Khachadour Piloyan, where Khachadour's wife, Bibi, and mother, Soghig Bibi, took great care of him, and he accepted Khachadour as a brother.

Her mother, Hripsimeh Hovnanian, was born in Malatia. Sarkis and Hripsimeh Piloyan had eight children: Manoug, Khachadour, Markerid, Setrag, Hagop, Maritza, Ovsanna, and Nevart. 120

In 1915, Khachadour, together with his family, was martyred. Living in Mexico City, Sarkis Piloyan had a great desire to visit America, where Setrag and Manoug, his two sons, and their families lived; and his brother Khachadour and Soghig Bibi were always present in his memory. He always corresponded with them and his letters would go through me. He used to dictate letters to me, and after reading them would kiss them and say: "How I wish, I wish that I could see Soghig Bibi and my brother Khachadour, and then let my final days arrive." He had received a visa from them, and had reached all the way to the border by train, but he was rejected there and was sent back. On the way back, brigands had attacked the train, and from fear he had become tongue-tied and spoke with a stutter. His greatest, heartfelt, yearnful wish to visit Fresno remained unfulfilled. On December 31, 1933, he passed away, his heart full of yearning.

May God grant mercy to the soul of this saintly Sarkis.

May God grant mercy to the soul of my angel Ovsanna.

97 years old, having survived 97 misfortunes,

Hampartzoum.

A GUT-WRENCHING LOSS MERCILESS GOD

Mexico City My Mardig and Me, Me and my Mardig

The gift given by God -- beautiful and an angel. He was born at 8:30, on Friday, February 20, 1931. A precious treasure for Ovsanna and me. We named him Mardiros, to perpetuate my late father's name. The name Mardiros is wonderful -- full of revenge.

121

This newborn boy "of mine" was so lovely and healthy and with such a sturdy body that because we loved him so much we named him White Horseman Mardig. Upon my Mardig I wove revenge-seeking ideas, remembering my father's song25 that he always sang wholeheartedly and in anguish, as he remembered the 1895 destruction by the vile Turk: "If our children forget so much blood and tears, and so much malice, let the whole world hurl scorn at the Armenians."

I filled myself with such emotions and I vowed upon the name of my father that his grandson will stay purely Armenian and vengeful. And thus, he grew up under my and Ovsanna's care. He grew up, his height grew. This lucky boy was loved for 3 1/2 years in Mexico City by his grandfather from his mother's side, Sarkis Agha Piloyan, by his grandmother Hripsimeh, by Hagop and Nevart, and by my brother Kerop. He was loved by all. He was grabbed from hand to hand, was pressed to their chests, and with kisses and pleasure he grew up.

At 8:30, on Friday, November 9, 1933, another member was added to our family: his sister. We stamped her Zaruhy to perpetuate my elder sister's name.

In 1935 we moved to America to join my brothers Bedros, Mihran, Kerop and my twin Kaspar in Los Angeles, and also Ovsanna's elder brother Manoug Piloyan, in Dinuba, Fresno, and his family, Sadie, Albert, Florence, Alice, Glady. In their vineyard, they enjoyed Mardig their child, always with mild and good-nature behavior, Mardig enjoyed those happy days with this uncle and members of his family.

My Mardig studied at Garfield High School in East Los Angeles. Subsequently, he started to study medicine at UCLA.

In 1952, as a soldier in the American army, he served two years in Japan. Upon returning, he married Barbara and formed a modest family, and was graced with two children, a girl and a boy, Kathy and Mark. He now was a manager for Beswick Pharmacy.26

An unexpected heart attack snatched our dear Mardig from us on a black day, Thursday 12 noon, on October 27, 1983, causing deep sorrow to his own family, his father, mother, and sister, and especially me, me, me...

As a survivor of the 1915 genocide, as a 14 year old young man who has tasted massacres, terror, exile, and suffering, I, the inconsolable father of my Mardig, hopelessly reproach by stating:

25 With the birth of his son, Hampartzoum finally found the opportunity to honor his father whom he greatly admired as a humble, law-abiding, religious man. Hampartzoum was never able to come to terms with his father's brutal fate in the hands of the Turks. Now, this too was snatched from him! 26 Mardig remained with this company, never to resume his education... 122

"Conscienceless God, pitiless God, after the loss of a million and half martyrs, you gave us this sorrow too by snatching my angel from my hands."

My angel, go in peace, my son, my Mardig.

I will always remember you,

Your mournful father, mother, and sister

They nailed the Son of God, Jesus, to the cross, and with spears tortured him. But I saw more terrifying days then and now. I was tortured and crucified twice.27

My eyes are afraid of what they've seen, My ears from what they've heard. My heart, my body are weakened, They tremble because of the past, And like today, from what is to come.

I am not afraid of hell. My life has traversed through hell. After suffering so much, I am still afraid of suffering.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

27 Six years leading a dog's life. 123

February 19, 1977

THE GRANDCHILDREN OF VARTAN THE GREAT

We are born with Armenian blood And are loved by Vartan the Great We are filled with vengeance And have hated the vile Turk always

We have learned from our teachers To frighten, not to be frightened To smash the head of the Barbaric Turk And find satisfaction

Let us conserve our Spotless Armenian Blood Let us be nation-loving, parent-loving

Let us soothe the hearts Of our Grandparents and grandmothers Who survived the Red Massacre, So that they at least do not suffer The pain of the White Massacre.

There is no greater wish than To support one another hand in hand with a kiss

What sacred joy it is to a survivor To see and hear the courage of the young men -- Especially for me: To hear, to see, To die in peace.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

124

When they gave writing lessons, the words were very advice-giving.

1. Example: "Don't be like a hatchet aimed always toward you, but be equal like a saw, one toward you, one toward us." The meaning of this is "Unity."

2. Example: "What can one hand do? But two hands can make noise." Again, means "Unity."

"When two cooperating friends join hands, They can raise a mountain."

3. "Unity is force, force an echo. By Unity you become the owner of your country, By Unity you get to keep your country forever. Dis-Unity brings about massacre.

Massacre is hell (I am) One who survived hell, But "look, how weepy (he is)" they say, "his stories (are) unbearable."

4. The love of an Armenian mother is like an ocean, The father's compassion, like the universe. To appreciate this, Keep your ... blood ... pure.

125

NOTES IN THE NEWSPAPER MARGINS

The will of this Supreme Leader is Unity, and his blessing is divine. He reminds me of my treasured father.

This kind, religious man, this honorable and treasured person has a place in my heart and I am correct.

Dear Hmayag,

Would it be possible for you to take along and show this to our sole Holy Catholicos of All Armenians? Kissing his right hand, let him give his wished-for greetings to you and send his consoling message to me too. Already, our joyous days have gone by. We only wish for healthy days so that we'll get to see one another.

126

He (California Governor George Deukmejian) always remembers his parents and his nation with respect.

Greetings to you, Great Governor.

These words built a nest in my heart.

The stance of my good daughter is keeping us healthy.

Dream or Reality?

H. Chitjian

We are grateful to you. We love you, and when we grow up, we want to be like you. It is an honor for all of us to follow you. Upon our youth we vow to keep our Armenian blood spotless just like you. Let us soothe the hearts of our grandparents and grandmothers who survived the Red Massacre, so that they at least do not suffer the pain of the White Massacre.

I have no greater wish than to see us support one another hand in hand with a kiss.

Come and visit our school; it is full of Armenians. We the students of Ramona School wait for you longingly.

127

DREAM OR REALITY

Zarug's students, 34 Armenians and one Filipino, had written letters in their own unique words to the Governor, and this is the answer.

Greetings to you, Great Governor. We are grateful to you. We love you. When we grow up, we want to be like you.

My memory is always fresh regarding the suffering I went through during the years of the massacres; the requests of the Turks and the Kurds; and what I endured. And currently, the stance of my good daughter is keeping me healthy.

128

A UNIQUE SUMMARY OF H. O. Z. CHITJIAN'S DEEDS AND WORDS TO TAKE HEED

Pictures that remember and speak. 1915-22, in hell.

With appreciation and emotional pride for the stance you have taken; also, Zaruhy, our "fruit."

A "master" seamstress in 1916, Malatya.

And with the wrathful fire of God: 1915-22 in hell.

Kerop in 1917; since 1967, he is no longer here. 129

Hmayag, "this boy" is still alive in Armenia. His address is" Nork.9.21, Yerevan. This is a song he learned in the orphanage:

Of Armenian generation; Sons of grief. We have wounds incurable. Exile, torments, beatings and slaps, They filled our lives with plentiful of pain, We became orphans, miserable, with no one to give us a hand. We wander from door to door. Be good, friends, And save us from the sad grief.

We are not afraid of hell. Our lives have already been through hell.

Our eyes have been terrified by what they saw, Our ears from what they heard.

And you be "sincerely united as a nation."

With "tempestuous feelings," it is my wish that the day will come when I could hug you, my esteemed grandchildren!

Best wishes, Hampartzoum Chitjian

Energetic girls and boys,

130

My only wish is: I don't want any worthless talk over my grave, other than, if you won't begrudge me, for some of you to join my sad wife and daughter and sing a few heart-soothing songs so that my payments to you would be "halal" (proper or legitimate).

You have fifty lively faces, each with two cheeks and a forehead for kissing. Three kisses for each face, which totals 150 kisses -- each kiss for the low price of one dollar. Therefore my debt to be sent to you every year will be $150. After I'm gone, my daughter is a good person and would continue giving for many years.

Accept my warm feelings and prayers, and be good enough to keep your blood spotless..... It is priceless. The Armenian language is great also -- both the language and the blood.

(Hampartzoum's appreciation of Armenian endeavors.)

1915 1994

A sad memory from our church in the Motherland: Two priests, one Vartabed. And now, at the Arshag Dickranian School, with the distress of old age.

(Comment on photo): "What a pity; I wish I hadn't seen this." 131

I went to this gathering and sat in the front row hoping that I would hear heartfelt words about Unity...

The Catholicos and two Holy Archbishops were sitting upfront on the stage. With faith of God, I was hoping for simple wound-healing words ... But ...

Of the generation of Armenians; Son of Grief.

This scene reminded me of the meeting we had in our church in 1915, which lasted five days. Present were two parish priests, one Vartabed (mid-level celibate priest), and 10-15 notables. My father sent me to help them, and to bring water. The subject was about the Turks demanding the weapons, and whether we should give them or not. When I went home, my father asked me what such and such priest said, what such and such teacher said. When I told him, his answer was, "They will devour our heads, they have already devoured."

And now 2 Archbishops, 1 Catholicos: the key leaders of the church. The feeling I felt was almost the same as when I heard my father's words: "They will devour our heads... Instead of the Red Massacre, the White Massacre will destroy and finish us," and such similar talk...

A mother tells her son to go tell the in-laws to come and visit them the next day. "Say it half- mouthedly," (half-heartedly) she instructs him. The boy goes there, and covering half of his mouth with his fingers asks them to visit them tomorrow. The in-law notices he is covering his mouth and asks why he is doing so. And the boy says, "To tell you the truth, my mother said that I should ask "Half-mouthed-ly."

Catholicos and Archbishops and bishops, if there is a will, you could lay your fingers upon the sad wounds of your people and comfort those survivors who are still alive.

Of what help is this to me or the nation? They are Armenian in name only.

My name is Hampartzoum, A survivor without hope, Search within my heart, open and read.

132

All of us are both hypocrites and anti unity. Why?

It is the anti unity clergymen who muddy up the fountainhead of the Armenian fountains... Both in the past and currently ... An example...

Branches of a tree begin to talk to one another when they see a man with an ax coming to chop them up: "What can we do, the handle is one of us?" What can the Armenian do, when the handle of the ax, the anti unity element, is from amongst us?

133

At the age of seven I began the most brilliantly and lucidly structured plan of the A.R.F. With such joy I enjoyed it until 1915, when the massacres robbed it from me. But it always remains alight in my heart. This precious political party will remain in my heart until I close my eyes. It is sad to be the son of the Armenian generation, a son of grief. His good qualities are few, whilst the number of confused persons is large and they are dangerous. I escaped from Kharpert and went all the way to Persia-Tavriz, and joined the 20,000 starving Armenian soldiers who had escaped from Armenia and had come to Tavriz. I once again went and joined the A.R.F, receiving 1 touman per week. One day, a few friends wanted to assassinate a boy by the name of Levon, and they forced me to join them. I did not want to assassinate an Armenian. They threw me out of the party. I was left hungry like many others. One day, running out of hope, I went to the restaurant of two Yeghektzi friends, and asked them to let me wash dishes, and avail myself of the leftovers. They refused, saying that I was against Tashnagtzoutioun. I went to the back of the restaurant, where the runoff from the washed dishes poured out, to grab some sustenance. But it was very dirty. I fainted. I sat by the wall. Vartateltzi David, an angel, saw me, took me home, he removed his undergarments, washed them and we sold them for 2 khrans. We went to the bakery, bought two loaves, and I was saved.

On the road, when I was going to Baghdad from Tavriz, they arrested me in Karatoot on the Iraq -Persia border, for being a Tashnag, because the Tashnags had assassinated a clergyman. They threw me in jail. The employees were Assyrians. At that time the command was in the hands of the English. And After I cried profusely, they set me free. "Out of pity, let him go..."

I came to Mexico City, and there too they assassinated an archbishop inside the church. Once again they took us in for interrogation. In 1935, in Los Angeles, I once again joined those sacred people. From 1936 to 1943 they divided the churches and schools even more severely, and opened the way for assimilation and destruction...

This saintly man, Dickran, was always our Chairman, and he governed until his death.

May God bless his soul.

May the blessings of the Catholicos always be with this family. I am ten years older than the Catholicos, And with 10 thousand Perils I have endured my punishment. My prayer and wish is for God's Eye to always be on them. 134

One who suffered like a dog for 6 years.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

The name of the city is Pazmashen, and they are in their hearts shen (joyful). Therefore, Next Station Buzmashen.

Pazmashen, Bchmeshen. The proof? She is Siroun, her name is Siroun (lovely).

(The ingeniousness of my daughter has saved this. H. Chitjian)

The Kharpertzis say: "Oh, my, Could there be such a thing -- especially a Bezmeshentzi?

135

I am without hope because both my twin brother and also my only angelic son are gone, and I have barely few days left. And with these thoughts on my mind, I got up and went to our Bezmeshentzi and asked to kiss him. But I realized that he did not recognize me. I don't know for what reason, and who knows, maybe he is reluctant to kiss. But he hugged me and I enjoyed it in lieu of my son. And I built a nest in my heart. When I die, I won't be going empty handed; I would take with me the thought that there are still noble, patriotic, and vengeful youth -- especially his mother, she is lovely and her name is lovely (Siroun). I kissed her too; also his wife, who is friendly and possesses a heart which is warmer than Bezmeshentzi's. Her name is Vartatel, and her offsprings are fine too. They have sent me a photograph, which made me very content. Included is their young, humble, noble, new bride with the sweet kisses. May God grant his entire family the Good.

Today, on February 20, the double of the same thing took place that had happened on the day of my son's birth... My daughter took me and her mother to my son's grave. I stretched over the stone of the grave. I kissed the stone. I spoke with him but I did not get an answer. After we got home, my daughter insisted that we should go to the event where Hovanessian, whom we loved, was going to once again present a new book to the nation. And that is what we did. It was a scene from paradise. To see a brave, courageous, pioneer son of an Armenian in action is worth paradise.

H. Chitjian

136

My appreciation of Professor Hovanessian My feelings toward the good son of this lucky and lovely woman. Coincidence: On December 17, 1983 & on February 20, 1987

My remembrance: this Armenian-loving Bezmeshentzi, who works hard for the Armenians, penetrated my heart for the stance he has taken. Remembering the scenes from the black days, and currently, my appreciation of a person who takes this stance in this assimilated country.

My heart full of sadness and sorrow, the Bezmeshentzi reminded me of the moments that I lived through under the wrathful fire sent by God. Perhaps he might soothe my sad mind. On May 16, 1983, my twin brother Kaspar closed his eyes. On October 27th, 1983, our God, poured His doubly wrathful and flaming fire upon me and Ovsanna, by plucking my only son, my hope, my life. My Mardig parted from us. During the 40 black days of mourning I wanted to lose myself. My good daughter, seeing that I was surrounded by dark clouds, said, "Papa, do you want to go 137

and see someone you love who works on taking your revenge? Also, he is of Mardig's age -- Mr. Richard Hovanessian." And she did exactly that. I went and listened to what he said. I bought his book, and remembered what my father used to say: "If our children forget this much malice." From my heart I felt that it was worth kissing this man, and I would take his kiss as a gift to my father and all the martyrs. Already.

To remember 1915 April 24 A sad dream. 198(?), Dec. 6. What a feeling, to hug with pleasure in lieu of my son, on the fortieth day after he closed his eyes.

What a delicious kiss. A kiss that would soothe the wrathful fire sent by God.

I shall take God's gift to me to my father and all the martyrs.

Look at my face and tell me why you were born.

Remember the eloquent photos. Oh, those days, they have come and gone. 138

Remember me. For six years my name was Rooshdi. Rasheed.

198(?), Dec. 6: In lieu of my sister Zaruhy. This day was worth the world. She took pity on me. Her kiss was worth more than 5 a thousand acre plot, which became a balm to my 5 thousand worries -- also with her refreshing words. May God grant the Good to this family.

This woman is lovely, her name is lovely, her stance is lovely, her offsprings are lovely, her kiss is lovely, and the fact that she gave to the Fresno Armenian school is also lovely.

Her master seamstress with her children in Malatia.

1918, Kharpert. Hampartzoum, my brother Kerop, and cousin Hmayag.

1915. My letters from the black days.

To read, to remember, to shed tears.

It is impossible for anti unity leaders, especially clergyman, to go to paradise... To hell? And if they are not accepted there, I'm going to send them to a fitting place... I'm going to give them a 139

visa charged with the feelings of these letters in Turkish.28 Let them go to a Turkish jail for six years... Let them become teachers, become Mullahs (Moslem priests).29 Let them wear a Muslim head gear so that they survive, and taste the fruits of disunity. Let them come back six years later, and I would look at their faces and forgive them.30 I'm not sure that God would forgive them.

A survivor without hope, H. Chitjian

May they be turned upside down on their heads, if they do not sincerely unite.

I wish my twin brother would wake up and speak.31

1978

During the days of genocide of 1915, when I was a 14 year old teenager, for six years I lived a terrifying and unbearable life. Distraught and in tears I have often recounted this to my

28 Armenian men were picked up, jailed, and beaten to a pulp to reveal where guns and fedayees were hidden 29 Perri's priest, "Der Boghos," collected arms, and knives from the Armenians. He converted and became a Mullah. Despite this, he was killed during the Kurdish rebellion of 1916. 30 They didn't live a dog's life for six years as Hampartzoum did. 31 His classmate, Avedis Maynazar, dressed as a Moslem. He was a "so called convert." But a cross was hidden under his shirt. He was also killed in the Kurdish rebellion of 1916. 140

daughter. It had affected my heart that I was influencing her to keep me content and healthy by these endeavors instead of drying my wet eyes with a handkerchief.

On the morning of April 24, 1978, she took us with her to the Dixie Canyon School. A large number of students had gathered at the outside schoolyard. After singing to the American flag, it was the turn for Zarug's students (non-Armenian) to sing songs in Armenian that she had taught them: "Our fatherland, miserable, without leaders, trampled under the feet of our enemies; with the sacred blood of its children she will be liberated."

This song reminded me my father's song: Resound lyre, may the whole world hear, so much blood, so many tears and wounds. You turned villages and towns into deserts. If our children forget such immense atrocities, let the whole world hurl scorn at the Armenians.32

I also remembered, the day my father came out of the prison, grabbed hold of our hands -- we were four brothers, and took and surrendered us to the Turkish school, so that they Turkify us. He knew that he was not going to see us again. With what feelings he departed from us without a word! He returned home, took my three sisters and my stepmother and together with the other neighbors their corpses disappeared upon the rocks and mountains...

And yet they, the "world", demand from us that we remain silent and to forget, with curses, or not to spare whatever we and our offsprings of the future can do. All this happened to our fatherland. 1 1/2 million martyrs were trampled by the enemy, and to this day remain abandoned... Waiting for justice...

However, from this school the sun's rays began to radiate within us and we passed joyous times. Later on, she took us to the UCLA campus, where we joined an April 24 march where hundreds of Armenian youth were protesting: Americans, without comprehending the vile stance of the Turk, are still sending them assistance.33

From there we went to Hollywood and joined hundreds of other wounded-hearted Armenians. But it didn't end well, because the police stopped us for blocking traffic. (A non-authorized march down Santa Monica Blvd!)

32 "Mer Hayrenik." 33 The firing of Prof. Shaw from UCLA. 141

Today I went to the Ramona School. My precious daughter is a teacher there.

She has taught her students about the life of Armenians. The students, with bright eyes, delicious lips, made me happy beyond measure with their recitations. They listened to my story about the massacres of Kharpert with perceptive minds. With joy we kissed and hugged. There I found a boy by the name of Kaspar. I remembered my twin brother. I found another by the name of Hampartzoum -- my name.34

I was so happy that they took good care of me. I won't exchange the whole world or heaven with the joy I felt today. These children reminded me of the orphan students in Armenia. I appreciate it that Mrs. Elizabeth Aghbabian is helping them (Armenian orphans) over there. I consider her activities sacred. With best wishes, I make a donation to gladden the orphans of Nubarashen and (Nor) Kharpert.

With heartfelt Respects, Hampartzoum, Ovsanna Chitjian

34 I taught for 34 years, and by divine Destiny, in my last class I had 2 Armenian boys, one named Hampartzoum and the other Kaspar. Z.S.C. 142

This Supreme Glorious Catholicos knocked on the door of my heart, when during his latest visit he said that the 1943 "... separation was a calamity..." Words of such precious feelings! I wish he would demonstrate personally, and would make others do what is good.

I wish, I wish that these three would do their best to bring about unity. I don't blame the Turks. The bad would perpetrate bad deeds. It would be better if we act with a unified heart. Thus we can win.

143

THE GRANDCHILDREN OF VARTAN THE GREAT

We are born with Armenian blood And are loved by Vartan the Great We are filled with vengeance And have hated the vile Turk always.

We have learned from our teachers To frighten, not to be frightened To smash the head of the Barbaric Turk Then find satisfaction.

Let us open the minds of our suffering parents Let us give each other a hand and all of us unite Let us follow Vartan the Great Let us keep out blood spotless.

The sun has dawned, the time has come We have reached the edge of listening to the rights of the Armenians May the whole world hear our just voice And return the fatherland to the Armenians.

One who suffered for six years.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

144

THE GRANDCHILDREN OF VARTAN THE GREAT

We are born with Armenian blood And are loved by Vartan the Great We are filled with vengeance And have hated the vile Turk always.

We have learned from our teachers To frighten, not to be frightened To smash the head of the Barbaric Turk And find satisfaction.

Let us conserve our Spotless Armenian Blood Let us be nation-loving, parent-loving Let us soothe the hearts Of our Grandparents and grandmothers Who survived the Red Massacre, So that they at least do not suffer The pain of the White Massacre.

There is no greater wish than To support one another hand in hand with a kiss.

145

What sacred joy it is to a survivor To see and hear the courage of the young men -- Especially for me: To hear, to see, To die in peace.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

THE GRANDCHILDREN OF VARTAN THE GREAT

We are born in America, We have loved Vartan the Brave, We are always filled with vengeance, We have always hated the vile Turk.

The sun has risen, the moment has arrived, The rights of the Armenians have reached the apex, The whole world has heard our just voice, To give the Armenian lands back to Armenians.

Those grandchildren of Vartan the Brave who recite this fluently would now be appreciated.

Hampartzoum Chitjian, 2-19-1997 146

My impressions of the person who works in this newspaper.

Mr. Robert Browning

Through my twin brother Kaspar I met with him barely for an hour or two and recounted to him what had befallen us two brothers. He composed the story of the two or three years of our life, which was right on target and included our inner feelings. This person has within himself humane feelings. He can even understand from your expression your inner wounds. I wish he would one day be kind enough to satisfy me and give me the opportunity to open my heart in this foreign land. Let the whole world realize what it means to be a slave to the vile Turk. I too should be pitied, when I recount wholeheartedly to those who don't comprehend... 147

KASPAR AND ME

1. Is there anything more lovely Than the much loved word brother?35

35 Turkish saying. 148

2. Wolf brother, dog brother, Again brother, again brother.36

3. There can never be a city like Baghdad, Nor a beloved like a brother.

4. But in purse and fate, He has created them differently.

5. Similar to my fate and Kaspar's.

Kaspar and I were born as twins, but we lived together only a short time (13 years), and in our appearance we were very different, also with our personalities; our eating likes and dislikes.

Especially within 80 years of life, the differences are also reflected in our emotions. Especially by taking into account our respective daily experiences and sufferings.

He has a mild disposition and patience and I the exact opposite: If I am in discord with anyone, I just distance myself.

Hampartzoum

6. But not now!37 Not only: -- My age: with grievous memories -- My body: has withered -- My mind: exhausted.

This is my fate in old age!

Nor Or, April 18-1978

1. May they be turned upside down on their heads, if they do not wholeheartedly unite...

36 Turkish saying. 37 I must acquiesce! 149

2. Isn't it a shame that the black Mayor (Tom Bradley) is giving them advice? For God's sake at least listen.

3. This photo of two people reminds me the story of what happened to two backbiting friends on a trip. It is a good story, a good parable, and is very fitting. When after walking the whole day the two friends reach a village, a villager gladly plays host to them. Before dinner, the villager wants to find out what caliber of people his guests are. He separately asks them what they think of the caliber of the other. One of them says, "Don't pay attention to him, he is like a dog," whilst the other says, "He is a nobody, a donkey." Listen...

The host says, "The dinner table is ready." They sit around the table. He puts a plate a grass in front of one, a plate of bones in front of the other, and a plate of food in front of himself. The two guests realize the situation and ask the host why... He responds with, "You told me one of you was a donkey, the other a dog, so I gave you what you like: grass and bones."

Although it isn't very appropriate to mention it like this, what I saw in 1915, and the dog's life that I lived, force me to behave out of line in my expression.

The older I get the more emotional I am becoming. My wife and my daughter are bored with my stories. The stories remain aflame only in my heart. Where are my father, mother, sisters...?

150

April 25 -1977

1. May they be turned upside down on their heads, if they do not wholeheartedly unite...

Hampartzoum Chitjian

2. For God's sake at least listen (to black Mayor Tom Bradley) and remain steadfast in your vow.

3. I have personally been to Der Zor. An Arab official took us three boys and showed us two large piles of Armenian bones and said, "Don't forget that these are the bones of Armenians. Perhaps some belong to a members of your family. Remember those you have lost. To a patriot, life is worth far more than material things."

What disunity brings about is recounted by eyewitnesses -- blood flows from their mouths, when weeping and in tears they remember the inhumane acts committed by the Turks to annihilate our nation. But at least they did not succeed fully. We saw, ate, and tasted those terrifying days, as I lived like a dog for six years in my youth. Worshipped the cross, but then I had to swear against it, and that's the reason why I am here now alive. With an aching heart, I want to recount to you what I saw, so that you the leaders of the Armenian Nation, play your roles well, and give a bit of light and hope to the new generation, so that our fate does not befall them also. We have heard many insulting words. Although it is not fitting to repeat the filthy words of indecent Turks, my heart is on fire, and I will say it. They changed my name to Rooshdi and Kaspar's to Rashid. In order to insult us, they used to call us "Gyavour Bokheh," (Infidel shit.) In addition, in order to save our lives, we had to swear against the cross. They used to draw a cross on the ground and forced us to recite:

"Cross, Cross, beloved cross. Lift your head up, open your eyes. He is Ottoman, he is strong. He has a strong fist. He strikes me and makes me shit on you..."

What I said and wrote is the truth and not an opinion. Another person, a Perchenchtzi who escaped hell, says the same thing. He is:

Krikor Bedoian, 2114 Webster, SANGER, California

1. May they be turned upside down on their heads, if they do not sincerely unite. 151

2. I wish the day will come when you will correct your mistake.

3. This is my twin brother. We lived together for 83 years. Last year he shut his eyes (passed away) and left me alone. In 1915, we were six brothers and three sisters in our father's household.

4. This photo of two people reminds me of the two parish priests in Perri. One was faithful to the Turkish Government, the other was a patriot. Two leaders, disunited. And what was the result? The annihilation of an entire nation. I wish they would remain steadfast in unity, so that God would hear our voice, and also the nations surrounding us would have faith in us.

Ask my twin brother where we four brothers forever parted from our father... Sorrow, yes.

The patriotic priest wanted to join forces with a few of the experienced teachers, like-minded villagers and freedom fighter Avedoe, who was my twin brother's godfather, to put up a fight against the Turkish Government that wanted to collect the guns from the poor Armenians. But it was in vain. First, this unity disappeared, while the other priest, the humble servant, asked his deacon to carry a sack on his back, and he himself, with the cross in his hand, collected the rifles and even knives, and gave them to the Turks, in order to save his hide. I saw one of the people who gave away his rifle. They had beaten him to a pulp on the street, so that he'd divulge who else had rifles. With these same rifles and knives both that priest and many others were annihilated. I am one of the sons of those disunited and unprotected leaders. And I and my twin brother Kaspar bear witness to this. The proverb says, "Spring comes to the dog also, but only it knows the beating it received." Open the heart of a person who lived a dog's life and read what's within.

Our father grabbed hold of our hands and took us to the Turkish school so that at least we would be saved. Who can fathom with what feelings our compassionate Yergeer father parted from us? Don't ask those two priests for an answer. They are not aware of such feelings. And I don't blame them, because they have never been fathers. Their only thought is about the abundance in the church's plate. And you, Kaspar, say it and sincerely recount what happened when your father was in jail, and with what feelings they parted from their ancestral home, together with their neighbors, and where did they go, to be strewn across the deserts and gorges...

5. Our village was near Dersim. The Kurds were our friends. Had there been no disunity, many of us would have been saved...

152

1968

1. My noble feelings for our Catholicos, the Holy of Holies... He healed 1915 wounds of mine... Listen...

In 1968, when they brought our Catholicos from the airport directly to the Los Angeles Shrine Auditorium, where a large number of Armenians had gathered to listen to his prayers, he saw the symbol of the vile Turk, the crescent moon and star, and unable to control his emotions, he said, "I cannot pray here..." Oh, such feelings overwhelmed me also, when I remembered the black days of 1915: My father, mother, sisters, brothers, the bones strewn all over the Kharpert Plain, the piled up bones of Der Zor. We took him to the St. Hagop Church, which was worth the world to me, when I realized that there still existed a vengeful clergyman... The Catholicos of All Armenians made all the Armenians happy... as they kissed his right hand at the St. Hagop Church.

2. This photo reminds me of early 1915, when under pressure by the Turkish policeman, my father surrender us four brothers to the Turkish Government, and without turning back to look at us, or to say goodbye, or to kiss us, he departed -- that's because the soldier shooed him out with the butt of his rifle.

Sorrow, yes -- there you have it, the memories of a survivor. Pitiful, heart-rending moments -- at the end of 1987. The same pitiful feelings came over me, in a purely Armenian atmosphere. I wished it so much hope, but all in vain. God too shut the door of my wish. I asked myself why I restrained myself? I thought the Catholicos' face was happy and cheerful and did not want to perturb it, but I perturbed myself because of the stance of the leaders.

The news of the Catholicos' visit made me very content. I had woven a great deal of feelings of longing toward him, which I preferred to going to paradise. At least at the age of 87, in my last 153

days, I would be able to shake the hand of the Holy Catholicos, hug him, kiss him, fasten my heart to his heart, and listen to his prayers. Who knows? In my last days, with a full, happy heart, I might be able to take the most precious gift to my father and all the martyrs. Also, my daughter reminded me that she was going to take me to the old-folks home the next day, and that the Catholicos would be there, and there would be great opportunity there, because there will be many kind-hearted people there. But because of my luck, that too proved to be a lie. A chicken with its neck cut off escapes from the knife, tortures itself by hurling itself from wall to wall, till it dies. This is what has happened to me; it has escaped from my hand in that condition. I am in the same situation. I hurl myself all over the place in vain. This is my luck... I don't crave glory. But looking back, I have been in America for 52 years, yet I still have not met any clergy for whom I'd have a place in my heart to listen to his prayer, other than the Holy Father, who, like my father, inspired Christian feelings in me. I consider at least the ones that I have met as clergy for the assimilated.

The above photo shows how close I was to the Catholicos. My head is right behind his head, and right behind Mrs. Deukmejian's head it's my wife. But a memory comes up: On the road to Der Zor the Turkish soldiers were preventing all the Armenian refugees from drinking water from the river. They left them to die thirsty. This is what annoys me most about glory-seeking clergy of yore and now.

154

1. Isn't it worth to hold this photo on your chest with pride?

2. "Let me build it and take it to Sacramento so that they'll know from where the president's dough (roots) hails from." (Caricaturist) Massis, 1982.

All Armenians should be grateful to Massis for building, sculpting the Tufa, and before the birth of Jesus, delivering it to the Sacramento manger, where the "Tufa" turned into "Duke" (Governor Deukmejian's nickname). He was baptized after a miraculous birth, and revealed himself to be a palpable individual -- this is the truth and is not just an opinion. A correct sentence helpful for the Armenians: "Good news to you and us."

H. Chitjian

3. When I die, I'd like to take a scene from paradise to my father and all the martyrs.

4. May God multiply such "Ray of the Sun" offsprings. 155

How I Found Markar

1918: Another affliction from my desperate days.

Because of the American missionaries, there was quite a bit of freedom. The assassinations had stopped -- at least in Kharpert. I heard that one of my relatives, Altoon Badji, was staying at the Upper City. I went and found her and her daughter, Markerid, who is now in Fresno. She said "come, I can find a very good job for you." Although she was a very energetic woman, she had lost her 19 year old son, Hovhannes, because of hunger and lack of nutrition, and she felt quite a bit agitated.38 She took me in like a son and took great care of me. My job was to haul water from quite a distance to the house I was staying in and to the few nearby neighbors. I also cleared off snow from the roofs. And Altoon Badji sewed clothes for women, did washing and

38 After Altoon Badji arrived to Chicago, her eldest son, Setrag, named his son Hovannes (John), in honor of his younger brother who died in Kharpert from tuberculosis. 156

domestic chores, and we lived well, quite well. I remember it well that she used to go to the street in the mornings, and with a pitiful voice ask the passing butchers who were taking slaughtered lambs to their stores, to give her a little bit of fat from the lambs: "Guchchug Effendi, Beyuk Effendi, Allahen Eshkhineh, bir parcha yagh," "Small Effendi, Big Effendi, for God's sake, give me a slice of fat." And they used to slice the lamb and give it to her. She used to bring it home, melt it, add crushed wheat on top of it and barley, etc. and there you have it: soup and sustenance. On one of those cold days she came to me and said "I found a very good job for you with good pay." The Upper City is on top of a mountain. The areas behind the houses were like hills. Their bathrooms were like the cesspools here (in America). The manure collected in one place, and in the winter there was a path through which it could be removed and dispersed with chekechek, here they called it a hoe. The payment was 4 Medjids, for 5-6 days' work. In order for me not to be repulsed from the job, which smelled very bad and filthy, Altoon Badji told me a story: "It is better for a man to make a living by doing this kind of dirty work rather than to go around and beg."

And I began to do this work. I'd already done two, and was midway on my third, when above me on the road I saw a person standing and watching me and he wasn't going away. After a minute or two I looked up again and realized that it was Markar, my Dickran Ammo's son. The clothes on him were both filthy and torn up. He had pulled the pieces of clothing together with tree thorns to cover his body. And he was extremely weak, had tuberculosis, and was extremely skinny. His hair was very curly and there was a smile on his face. I stopped my work. I picked him up and took him home. Altoon Badji had brought him there, but unable to stand the stench, had gone back home. Altoon Badji was a very clean woman. She kept me very clean. When I returned home from work, hot water would already be ready, and she used to wash me and dress me in clean clothes before she would take me inside the house. When we would visit families that we knew, I could see that they were all lice-infested. When we returned home, she would take our clothes off, remove the lice and kill them, before we could go to bed. Therefore, when Markar came, she refused to take him in because he was sick and very dirty. My objections lasted long, but to no avail. I was upset and said that if that's the way it is I would go away with Markar, and demanded my money that she was saving. She said: "You have cleaned only two bathrooms and I haven't yet collected the money. But I can give you four Medjids for cleaning one of them." And in this way, at night, we got up and went to a Khann. We woke up at night because we were covered with lice. In the morning, we left Upper City and went toward Mezreh. Although it was cold that day, it was sunny. We took off our clothes, shook off the lice, and headed to the village of Parchanj, a place I had been before. We went to the house of a Turk, and they accepted us.

(Notes in the margin). Geynum bouloutma, seni bokhdan-bokha sokharem. Don't nauseate me, I'll shove you into manure and into more manure.

157

Begging is dirtier than doing dirty work.39

1981. I am looking for Lower Itchmetzis and Habusetzis

In 1916-17, in Lower Ichme, 21 of us Armenian women and boys worked as servants in the house of Yulash Effendi. My name during those days of hell was Rooshdi. I only remember the

39 "Words" from the story he did not repeat here. 158

Habusetzi boy, whose name was Msdo Hasahn), and his cousin's name was Juvo, barely 13-14... What was to befall the three of us...

In those days, the Russians had come from Keghi and had reached Djabaghchour. But because of Bolshevism, we were hearing that there was a possibility that they would retreat. And a Turkish Major, accompanied by a large number of soldiers, came to spend the night in Itchme. The lecherous Turk had ordered to bring a 12-15 year old girl to him. The Turkish villagers chose this Juvo. They came to our house and ordered the women to wash up Juvo, and dress her nicely, to be taken to the Major in the evening. Even in those desperate days, however, when the fear of the Turk was paramount, and the prospect of being knifed very possible, those Armenian women showed more courage and patriotism than some of the leaders of today, who are in charge of the nation.

Listen... They (the women) called me and Msdo (Hasahan), who was her cousin, and said: "If you have courageous hearts, and you want pride for the nation, it is necessary that you must save Juvo. Spirit her away. There is a village called Zantarich near Itchme an hour's walk away. There is a good friend of Yulash Effendi's there. Take her there."

When it turned dark, three of us took off. Msdo was older than me and was familiar with the area. We had to climb the mountain, but a great deal of snow had fallen, blocking the way. Msdo was ahead of us, Juvo was in the middle, and I was in the back. We finally reached Zantarich. The dogs gave us a hard time, but the villagers took us to the house of the man. After we told him what the situation was, the man gave Msdo another person to take him to Mezreh, to go tell, inform, Yulash Effendi, who was a government employee. And he assigned another person to accompany me back home. And he said: "Go and enter the barn from the back door. Don't be afraid. Stay there until morning. They'll go, and tomorrow Yulash Effendi will go there to punish the villagers for mistreating you. They have insulted the honor of Yulash Effendi." As told, I went and opened the back door and entered. It was close to morning when two soldiers found me and took me next to the hearth of the barn, the light of the fire, and they had just asked what we had done with Juvo, when another soldier picked up a burning piece of wood from the fire and hit me with it. From fear and pain I fainted. They beat me thoroughly, but at least I was saved from death.

Let me add a supplementary comment here

My father used to always say that without the command of God not a single leaf could move, and on the Sourp Khach Church40 it was written: "Knock and I shall open; Ask and I shall give to you."

40 In Los Angeles 159

We had not requested such a cruel life from our God; whence did He bring such punishment upon our head? I always imagine that we have always been disunited. That is the reason. What Turk? We are stronger than the Turk and wiser, but because of disunity, we have fallen to this state.

Let us recount again from my life as a dog...

Thinking that I was dead, the soldiers had left me there. Those honorable women took me to their place, and after motherly care, I was back on my feet in a week or two. I am searching for these people still.41 If God would help me, I'd like to find at least one of them. In 1969 I went to Bolis to search for them. Someone said that Msdo's Armenian name was Yervant, and his job was to clean the tomb stones at the Armenian cemetery in Bolis. He used to cut the grass. But now he was dead, and Juvo had become Yulash Effendi's wife. There you have it, an episode from the life of an Christian Armenian youth...

Let us repeat again: May they (Armenian Leaders) be buried upside down if they do not unite.

A friend from our village, Levon Gopoyan, came to Itchmeh. He is now in New Jersey. He is still alive. He was my brother Mihran's classmate. When he was with his mother in Mezreh, they had told him that there still were Armenians in Perri. He wanted to go there, and I, thinking that I might find family members there, dismissed all Perils, left this comfortable place I was staying, and joined him...

41 Up until the year 2001, he was still searching for Armenians with integrity! 160

A story: My Escape from Hell

From Kharpert to Persia For two and a half months, by eating raw fish and grass and plenty of water; plenty of will power and plenty of desperate nights.

In 1921, Kurdish refugees in Kharpert were returning back to Van, Bitlis and Erzerum, etc. There was a trustworthy Kurdish neighbor family; they told me that if I wanted, they'd take me to Armenia or Persia. I had already heard that a few Armenians had trusted the Kurds and had made the trip, and letters had been received from them. I believed the Kurd. He said it would cost me ten yellow gold coins. I paid and took off with them.

Listen to another (story) about my sorrowful fate

On the first night we reached Itchme, a place that I had already visited previously. I went to the cool fountain to drink water and to wash up. Then I saw another boy standing next to me, who with a low voice asked, "Are you Armenian?" I said "yes." We were happy to meet each other. He said that he was the son of the brother of Mezreh's Reverend Yeghoyan, and his name was Avedis. Another cousin was also there by the name of Nazaret. They were Khulakuightzi. Like me, they had paid the Kurds 8 yellow gold coins. And thus, the next day, we reached the city of Palu to stay the night, and on the day after we reached the village of Djabaghchour.

15-20 of the Kurdish elders gathered under a Princh tree, and they called us to interrogate us about how much we had paid for the journey so that they take their cut. At that moment, we saw that there were 10-12 Armenian girls who like us wanted to escape. After examining everything, they came to a decision. They put us under guard like slaves, and they separated the girls from us. They called on those Kurds who wanted a wife: one went to Hasan, another to Msdo...When the girls realized what was about to happen to them they began to shout to us, "Brother, brother." The Kurds held the girls by the hand and led them to the gorges...There you have it, the saintly girls of a disunited nation. Where are they now..? Ask the one who created you... And what of our condition..?

It's because I have experienced such difficult days that I hate all the elements of our disunited nation, whether they be clergy or party leaders, who sow seeds of hatred within the community...

161

The Turkish enemy flattened us with a lawn mower; they cut all the grass from the root.

From that day on, we had to stand guard, as slaves, over the animals: the donkeys, cows, sheep. During the day they grazed and moved on, and at night we had to let them eat grass as we guarded them, so that the neighboring peasants would not steal them. And thus, 3 days later we reached the village of Keghi near the village of Aintab Doudagh. (The village of Komk and Rahahn.)42

Avedis was the eldest one of us three boys. He had served as a Turkish soldier. At that time a Turk had raped his wife, and the poor woman was infected with a very bad disease -- what they called bel so-oughi. After Avedis had deserted from the army he had gone back home and had also contacted the disease. He had sought help from Dr. Michael, the father of our dear Michael Hagopian. He was cured and was instructed not to eat water animals. This smart Avedis told us that night, that we won't be able to live amicably with these people, that it was better that we escaped eastward, to reach either Persia or Russia. In the middle of the night we took off and escaped. We walked quite a bit and at dawn rested on a hill. Although on the first night we were terrified of being caught, we had courage and didn't lack nourishment. On that morning we considered ourselves to be joyous and brave-hearted. Avedis now said that we should be watchful and stay away from houses that were inhabited. We should travel at night for a few hours, and rest during the day. The next night, the fear was greater and also it became difficult to walk. Because of lack of food, we began to sample mountain grass. In those days, the Russians had destroyed many villages which were now deserted. During the day we saw smoke rising from some of them, and at night we saw the lights. And in this way, after a week we became exhausted. I had in my possession a small holy book -- it's still with me now. I would not exchange it for all the scriptures of the world. I used to read this book with great comprehension, and used o pray to God to save us... We used to see a great deal of abandoned war equipment on the streets -- especially a few bundles of barbed wire, small boats... There was also sweet grass for eating. They were not dangerous, but we got bored and turned into scrawny skeletons. One day we came across the River Palu. We went fishing. If you muddy up the water, the fish jump out of the river. We could not start fires for cooking because the smoke would betray us. And therefore we started eating raw fish, which was a little better than eating grass. We left them under the sun for a while, so that the hot sun would sort of bake it and improve the taste. But it didn't work out. They became like mucus. We travelled quite a bit by the banks of the river. One day Avedis informed us that many parts of his body were becoming infected with puss, and that his disease had returned. This thoroughly discouraged us. And whenever I saw the instruments of war, I prayed that God would take us to the country that had built those equipments.

42 For a short Perriod of time Hampartzoum assumed the responsibility to "care" for Rahahn. At the age of 12-13 she was emotionally affected: Perriodically she breastfed a "lost" imaginary baby. Many months later, upon hearing about Hampartzoum's plan to escape, approached him and requested two strands of hair from his head as a spiritual mean for his protection. See "A Hair's Breadth From Death" CH. 28, P 213; CH. 29, P 227 162

One day, I looked at my friends' faces and saw that they looked like skeletons with long black hair and sunken eyes. I began to cry. They asked why I was crying. And I said that they looked anything but human. And Avedis said that if he'd had a mirror he would show my own face to me. And in this manner we continued to walk. Avedis' wounds multiplied and covered his whole body. He now wanted us to walk during the day and look for inhabited places because perhaps we had reached friendly territory. And we did exactly that. We picked a road and began to walk during the daytime. We were looking for people when we saw a man with a donkey approach us. Initially we were very frightened, but when he came close, we realized that he was a Kurd. He knew Turkish and told us that the nearby town was Bayazid, and that it was still under Turkish occupation. He then added: "You are deserters from the Turkish army. I'll take care of you if you promise to work for me." And in this way, he took us to his house, and ordered the other workers to change our clothes and take us to the geyser -- hot water was coming out of the ground, and a little further away, cold water. We bathed and washed our clothes. Our food was yogurt and plenty of bread. In this manner we recuperated quite a bit in 3- 4 days. We asked a Kurdish boy were that place was, and he said, "If you go in that direction that's the Arax River; on the other side are the Armenians; and if you walk for 2 hours in the opposite direction, you'll reach Ajemisdan (Persia.)" In that territory the only vegetation was 5- 6-foot tall grass. The Kurds would cut the grass, dry them, and then would take them to Bayazid to sell. This is how they made a living. I told Avedis that we should cross over to Persia because there were too many soldiers near the Armenian side. The pain of Avedis' wounds had subsided after he got some nourishment, but he was still covered in puss. He said to me, "Not now, but if you want, you can go by yourself."

I did exactly that. At night, I took off for Persia, all alone. I was used to walking at night but not when by myself. When I was walking through the tall grass, the wind was blowing, and the sound terrified, petrified me as I trembled. It was supposed to be a 2-hour walk, but I walked all night and from exhaustion fell down and fainted. When I woke up I saw a Kurd poking me with a stick. "Asker Feelaree," "Deserter," he said, and took me to his house. He asked me "where are you from?" I said I was a Koniatzi. "What's your profession?" he asked. I told him I was a shoemaker. "Good," he said, and added that his uncle had leather for me to sew up. The next day he went and brought them. The shoes were in the "Yemeni" style from Yergeer. The top half was already sewn and the leather for the bottom had already been cut and prepared. The only work still to be done was to sew them together. They had looted them from the Armenians and didn't know what to do with them. I'd seen how it could be done at my uncle's -- they were shoemakers. I told him that if he could find the right tools I would make them. The name of that village was Bashkent. And they told me that two-hour's walk away, on the Persian side, there was a place called Kilisseh Kant, where there was an Armenian who made those tools. The next day, he picked me up and we went to Persia. On the border, the Turkish guards- soldiers caught us. He told them that he would give them a share of the shoes. They let us pass across to Persia. What great luck and joy! I looked up... God had saved me.

163

When we set down by a fountain to eat some bread, I picked up some earth and rubbed it against my face saying to myself, "This is not Turkish soil, the water and the sky aren't either." We reached Kilisseh Kant and went to the Armenian ousda's, master's shop, where 5-6 Armenian men were making brandy and also doing ironworks. The Kurd asked the workers, "Who is your boss?" They said that he had gone to the Armenian cemetery a little distance away. They pointed the place to us and we went there. He was a quite an old, gray-haired, saint of saints, Persian Armenian with a little girl next to him. The Kurd asked him how much the shoemaking tools would cost. And he said "20 khrans." That Kurd thought it was too much, and he turned to me. I told him with a very low voice to walk away so that I could arrange it at a lower price. When the Kurd went to the teahouse, I stood up in front of that angelic man, greeted him with my hands, and said:"Father, I am an Armenian, can you protect me?" Without looking at me, with a short stick he began to dig out the earth covering the writings on the tombstones. He stood up and said: "Ari yedeves, knanak", "Get behind me; let's go." I had previously heard those Russian-Armenian words, "Ari knanak", "Let's go", but the person who said "Ari" "come..." What a miracle! Silently we reached his house which was dug into the earth. He knocked at the door. When the woman opened the door he said: "Here is your son; I found him and brought him to you." What a paradise! What a heaven! What joyous days!

We entered the room, and with some sadness, and some joy, I recounted to them who I was. That woman was a Turkish Armenian. The Turks had killed her husband and son, and since my physical height resembled her son's, they accepted me as their son. Soon after, the Kurd came to the master's house looking for me. He asked whether the master was going to make the tools and asked after me. This precious Armenian replied:"He is Armenian and is going to stay here." At first the Kurd did not believe it. But when the Armenian shouted, he left. This honorable Armenian showed his guns to me and said:"If any Turk comes here, we will empty these bullets on them, and the last ones on us. Don't be afraid, the Persians are with us, they are good friends."

(Further notes):

My life in this man's house. The customs house. The Arab with two elephants. My letter writing. My finding of Nazareth. With Salari Hmayun in Tavriz, and my life there. My life in Tavriz; my suffering; telegram to my brothers; David. My going to Baghdad, Der Zor and Haleb. My life and my finding Kerop.43

43 See "A Hair's Breadth from Death." 164

My trip from Baghdad to Haleb with these three friends; seeing the bones of Der Zor was a miracle...

This Khachadour joined me in Tavriz and we travelled, on a bus with Arabs, to Kazvin, Hamadan, Kermanshah, and Baghdad. On the road, when we went into restaurants, they didn't let this man in because he was A Christian. He had shaved his moustache, he was handsome, but they considered him a "mourdal" and therefore did not let him in. I used to hold the cup of coffee that I would take to him with a piece of cloth, so that I won't be labeled a "mourdal" also. Anyway, we reached Baghdad. He had a father in France and I had three brothers in America. We wrote letters, and both of us received money. We went to Mosul by train, and at that time David joined us. Both of them were Vanetzi. We reached Mosul. At night we took a bus to go to Haleb. At that time, there was fear that on the road the wild Arabs might rob the people on the buses. They told us to give our money to the chauffer, who would give it back to us when we reached Haleb. But we didn't believe them. I had 19 Turkish gold coins. I sewed them 165

inside my suspenders, they inside their jackets and trousers. We took off. On the next day, he had driven only for 4 hours, when the Arabs opened fire on the bus. First, they looted the Arabs in the bus. They moved us out, and by the time it came to our turn, I dropped my suspenders on the sand, covered it with sand, and stood on top of it. I gave them the clothes I was wearing, which contained a few medjids. They took the clothes of the boys and tore them up with knives. When the thieves left, this David noticed that my gold was saved. He knew Arabic. He frightened me by saying that if I did not give my suspenders to him he was going to betray me. A few hours later were reached a valley near Der-Zor. As they were filling the bus with water, they told us to get out and wash up. This David insisted persistently and I gave my suspenders to him. When we reached Der Zor, we went to a hotel, which was given to us for free, food included, because we had been robbed. They put three of us boys in a separate room. When we entered, I told Khachadour to go and bring me a glass of water. When he left, I locked the door and attacked David. The Arabs entered the room from the window and took us to court. The area was under English rule, but the judge was a Turkish-speaking Arab who failed to reconcile us. He said: "I am going to take you to a place where the two of you will reconcile." He took us to a faraway place, and showed us piles of Armenian bones...

(This is on page 1), and next to the photograph of the four Armenian boys is written: "Haleb, I found my friend Haygaz from Kharpert." And below it, it reads: "1922, Haleb, the boys standing up: left to right, Haygaz, Tavit, Khachadour, and seated, Hampartzoum.

(There are notes around the Kevork Emin poem titled "Der Zor"): Who would not be affected by such a title and meaning? Only the vile Turk and those who have disgusting hearts like them.

Der-Zor cheollerindeh Gunesh parlior, Osmanli eskeri ghourshoun yaghlior, Ermeni mahajeeri yaman aghlior, Dini bir oghrouna gidan ermeni.

In the hot desert of Der-Zor the sun is shining, The Ottoman soldier is greasing his bullets. The Armenian refugees are weeping intensely, The Armenians who are clinging to their faith.

A JOURNEY TO DER ZOR

We came from Baghdad to Mosul together with the two Vanetzi Armenian boys. At night, at the hotel, we exchanged our paper money to gold coins. I sewed them in my suspenders, while the others put them in their trousers and jacket near the neck. On our way to Der Zor, on the road, 166

Arab brigands robbed us. I quickly dropped my suspenders on the sand, covered it up with sand, and stood on top of it. I gave them my clothes, which they tore to pieces. There was a small amount of money in them. But the money of the boys was gone. When we got back on the bus, one of the boys (David) began to scare me that he was going to betray me by informing the others that my money was saved, and that the 13 Arabs who were thoroughly robbed might take it away from me, and that he had lived in Baghdad and knew Arabic. When we reached the vicinity of Der-Zor, the bus stopped near a fountain. This guy insisted. Out of fear I gave my suspenders to him. When we got to Der-Zor, the government gave a free hotel room for us three boys. After we got in, I told my other friend to go out and bring water. And when he went out, I locked the door and went after the guy who had taken my suspenders. I hit him and he hit me. The Arabs entered through the window and took us to the government. The government was in the hands of the English. But the Arab judge was unable to find out who's (suspenders) it was. I told him it was my suspenders because it was clear from the holes for the buttons on my trousers. He realized the truth and reproached us saying, "How could you Armenians fight over money after so much tragedy?" Then he added: "I am going to take you and show you the bones of Armenians. I am certain that you are going to help each other." And he took us to a place a short distance away where there were two large piles of bones. He said: "These are the bones of Armenians; perhaps some belong to members of your family ..." This Arab official also said:"Life is worth more than money." I promised him I would do all I could. And I did. When we returned to Haleb, one of them had a brother in Egypt and the other had a father in Lyon, France. They wrote and received money from them, and we parted amicably. I still have their pictures. I'll show them to those who want to see them. There you have it: the story of the bones of Armenians in Der-Zor.

When 10 years ago I went to Antelias, Beirut, I saw a few skulls and bones, etc. inside the church. But they were nothing compared to what I had seen ... in the Ghazan Ravine in Perri, near the village of Hoshay, I saw the bones of the peasants from Perri and all the nearby villages; on the banks of the Perri River, I saw the hairs of Armenian girls wrapped around the trees; under the bridge of the village of Khoushi I saw small and large limbs -- plenty of them; I saw the body, face of my close classmate Kevork Noroyan -- many had their eyes gouged; with Korr Mamoe I saw 3 Armenians who had been tied together from foot to neck -- their heads were missing... Do you want me to recount more? Or are you fed up of listening and I from writing?

This dictates that we should save brave Kourken Yanikian,44 so that my heart would cool off a little. And let God increase the number of such fighters amongst us. With what lack of scruples

44 Kourken Yanikian was an Armenian-American author and engineer, who assassinated two Turkish consular officials in California on January 27, 1973. Yanikian was sentenced to life in prison on July 2, 1973. Yanikian was sentenced to life in prison on 02.07.1973 where several members of the jury were reported to have had tears in their eyes as the verdict was read. Yanikian was sentenced to life in prison on 02.07.1973 where several members of the jury were reported to have had tears in 167

can one sit at a table to eat, while this 86 year old, who, having done his heavenly work, is suffering. Such men are worth more than rich people who give money to build churches. Truly, those people ought to be appreciated. But the man who saves45 this man will go to paradise.

1915: When the merciless God had turned His face away from the people who worshipped Him -- perhaps they had knocked on the wrong door -- He left the entire Armenian Nation at the their eyes as the verdict was read. Yanikian was sentenced to life in prison on 02.07.1973 where several members of the jury were reported to have had tears in their eyes as the verdict was read. Finally, he was released under house arrest. 45 Fights for human rights for his people! 168

mercy of horrifying days ... by the hand of the cruel Turk. They were sorrowful and painful days when we lost fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers -- over 1 1/2 million.

Wandering from village to village for 2 1/2 years like a stray dog, I tried to meet relatively good, conscientious people who would at least not threaten to kill me. A Turkish proverb which describes exactly what I endured in life always remains in my heart:

"It deh yaza Chekar, laken yediyeeh deynegi billir,"

(Even a dog can make it to summer, But it knows what a beating it endured.)

In the summer of 1917, I was a servant to a muleteer. My friend Levon Gopoyan was with me; he now resides in New Jersey. We took a two-day's journey together eating raw, green almonds. We used to often throw up green stuff. We finally reached a house situated within 10-15 acres in the village of Pertahk, which looks like Fresno. The muleteers were to spend a day there. We had heard that they had brought the remnant Armenian young ones from Perri to there. Aghavnie, and Hagop Ibrahim, the son of my father's uncle Ago Ibo,46 were apparently with the policemen. (They had converted in order to save their lives.) Levon and I searched and finally found a Perretzi acquaintance, who told us that they had thrown my little brother Nishan, aged 6, into the water, while Kerop, aged 9, was alive and was working as a slave. That it wasn't such a bad place, and he had grown tall. That he was herding animals, and that he had seen him a year earlier. Of course this was good news -- at least Kerop was alive. And we told that boy that if he sees Kerop, whose name was Hamdee,47 to tell him that we were going to go to Mezreh in Kharpert. If he has the opportunity, he should look for us. Just six months later -- a miracle, yes, a miracle -- I found my brother Kerop, who was five years younger than me. You will hear how later?

The next day, together with the muleteers, we reached the Upper City in Kharpert, where my friend Levon's kind mother, Yeghsa Badji, lived. In the house of that angel there were 3-4 other young orphans, inside a small room. At that time each person was allotted one piece of bread the size of a hand from the American missionaries. She brought the bread and had us partake from the rations of the kids, in lieu of holy wafer.

Remember but don't cry. At my age, it is very difficult to remember the past -- worse than a dog's life.

46 A converted Armenian from the aftermath of the 1895 Hamidian Massacres. 47 Turks changed name from Kerop to Hamdee, a Turkish name. 169

Through this angel I found my uncle's wife, Zaruhy from the Mishmish family.

As my luck would have it -- heavenly luck -- my uncle's wife was working as Dr. Michael's washer woman, and she took me to them. At first they did not accept me because of my filthy Kurdish clothes and bare feet. This kind woman, my uncle's wife, together with a few Armenian women, collected money, bought pretty decent used clothes,48 and they bathed and cleaned me. She took me back there again, and I was accepted as a servant at the household of Doctor Michael -- not as a servant, but as a member of the family. My life changed. My nights turned into days and deep darkness into light. No more fear of the Turk and their curses. There and then I remembered that cruel God had shown me a miracle. My duties were to buy fruits and stuff from the market; to inform the Doctor before he would see a patient; to usher in patients that came to the door -- almost all of them were Armenians. This worship-worthy, philanthropic, kind man, would not only give away medicine for free, but would also help them out financially with a few ghouroushes as they left. I'm certain that he did more than his means. This kind hearted man sent money through me to the imprisoned Armenians so that through bribes they would get out of jail. Our Hagopig's (Michael Hagopian) father was such a Christian individual. If there is such a thing as paradise, I'm sure that our dear, unforgettable Dr. Michael is there.

I have seen other cherished, kindhearted Armenians, such as him, and I feel it is my duty to name them. Such as the person who found a way to take the remnants of the Armenians in Kharpert out of the hell that was Turkey. That person was Bishop Kud Mkhitarian. And in the city of Tavriz in Persia, it was Archbishop Melik Tankian, who without discrimination took care of 20,000 Armenians who had escaped from Armenia and had come to Tavriz. Another individual was Dickranagerdtzi Gabriel Babayan of Mexico City, from whom thousands of Armenians received assistance. And also, the saintly Catholicos of All Armenians: Vazken I. (He served between 1955 and 1994, in one of the longest reigns of the Armenian Catholicoi.)

There was a sever famine in Turkey in 1918. Even with money it was difficult to obtain bread. On the orders of the doctor, I used to buy 10-15 loaves of bread from the back of the bakery,49 and after cutting each bread to four pieces, would give them to the Armenian beggars that came knocking on the door. I had a Perretzi friend by the name of Hagop Holopigian, who now resides in Armenia. I went and saw him there and we reminisced. I had told my friend to send any Armenian beggars that he met to us so that they partake of the bread. He was a shoe repairman working across from an Assyrian food depot in the marketplace. He got to meet a lot of people and he loved the Armenians -- and of course, he was a Perretzi. One day, my friend

48 From the bit-bazaar (flea market.) Clothes abandoned by exiled Armenians and/or off of Armenians who were killed. Moslems had no use for western style clothing. 49 In the morning hours, the bread was for the soldiers first and if there were leftovers, civilians had access to buy. But Hampartzoum had to clandestinely purchase bread to serve the very destitute who came to the doctor's house for handouts. Armenian, Kurd, Turk, young or old could be served. By noon, 15 loaves were gone, even when each loaf was cut into quarters, and one quarter was given to each person. Unfortunately, everyone could not be helped! 170

Hagop, who was good a friend of my brother Mihran at school, brought along an 11-year-old kid and knocked on the door twice. And I, thinking that they were two beggars, picked up two pieces of bread and opened the door. I saw that it was our Hagop and a beggar boy next to him.

I first extended a piece of bread to the beggar boy and told Hagop not to knock on the door so hard, so that Aghavnie, the doctor's wife, wouldn't get upset. I saw that the beggar was not taking the bread. I wanted to give him the other piece. The beggar boy was staring down. Hagop said: "Why don't you lift his face up to see if you recognize him." What a moment. The conscience of the cruel God had awakened...

When I raised the boy's chin, I realized that he was my brother Kerop -- 2 and a1/2 years earlier I had lost my father, my mother, sisters, brothers. I didn't know who had survived and who had been martyred. There you have it: a happy and painful moment. And Kerop said that they had thrown our brother Nishan into the river, because he was six years old and nobody had wanted him as a servant. Just be in my shoes and see if you too won't protest against your creator. Do you want me to go on recounting? There is no end to it. As I look all around me, I realize what miserable and painful days we had lived through. The entire population, even the Turks were dying of hunger.

But I and my brother were enjoying happy days, as we routinely took out the doctor's lovely daughter and son for strolls. My brother would carry one of them and I the other. They also had a white lamb. Daily, for an hour or two we used to take them to their garden. Hagopig was a little jealous of his sister. He always wanted me to carry him or pay attention to him. He was barely 2 1/2-3 years old. Carrying them in our laps, kissing them, we passed our days in joy. He loved me very much. To this day, when I see him, I kiss him wholeheartedly. A Keseregtzi man by the name of Assadour used to work in their garden. You could find everything there: cucumbers, striped Armenian cucumbers, carrots, eggplants, tomatoes and mulberries, etc. It was located right across the German orphanage. I used to throw over the fence many things from the garden for the orphans so that they eat them. Often, they used to bring the orphans out, and although they were well dressed, they looked very thin and malnourished. Among them was our dear friend Rev. Dervishian, the Parish Priest of the Saint Hagop Church (in Los Angeles.) He similarly was a little boy. He still remembers those days, when he too had enjoyed the fruits from Hagopig's father's garden. There was not a single Armenian in Kharpert who did not receive help from this honorable man.

Dr. Michael Hagopian, served not only in Kharpert but also in Malatya, where he was the doctor of my Wife's parents. And they praise him with pride.

Barely 15-20 days had past, when, one day, the Doctor said that we should take my brother to the orphanage, because of the order of the Turkish government, and in this way, they accepted him in the orphanage created inside the Yeprad College, in the Upper Town. There were 2-3 171

hundred young girls and boys there. Although my brother wept a great deal, it was to no avail. I was able to go see him only once every 10-15 days, taking with me great foods prepared by Doodoo, Hagopig's grandma. When I used to see Kerop's piteous face -- and when we used to part weeping, Kerop used to say: "Agha brother, why do you leave me here while you go to that lovely house?" After a few months, I was not able to endure my brother's weeping. I left the house of this worship-worthy Doctor, took my brother with me, and began to repair old shoes in order to make a living. At first I began to work on the streets of the marketplace in Mezreh. I didn't know the craft well at all, and so we went to the villages of Keserig, Yertemnig, Morenig, Sorseri, Vartatel, Hoshe, Bezmeshen, Komk. At every village that we visited, I used to repair one pair of shoes to secure a sleeping place, and another pair for food, like a small amount of mulberries, wheat, etc. And in this way, I again was not able to provide for the two of us, and at that time the Germans left and the American missionaries came, and the orphanage improved a bit -- at least the food. I once again took my brother Kerop back to the orphanage. This time, I went to visit him once a week without fail for one or two hours, and we got used to it.

172

In 1915, when the merciless God had turned His face away from the Armenians, and had caused the entire Armenian Nation that had worshipped Him to endure savage and painful days at the hands of the Turk, we lost fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers -- over 1 1/2 million.

I wandered from village to village for 2 1/2 years like a stray dog, trying to meet relatively good, conscientious people who would at least not threaten to kill me. My wages was merely food -- scraps from their tables, upon which I added water and turned into soup. Our bedroom was with the animals in the stables. It was by stirring their manure and producing vapors that we didn't freeze in the winter. It was like this everywhere.

In the summer of 1917-18, I was a servant to a muleteer, together with my friend Levon Gopoyan, who now resides in New Jersey. Together we went and reached the village of Pertahk, for only one day. We had heard that they had brought all the remnant Armenian young ones from Perri to there, and had kept a few of the kids there. During the few hours that we had during the day, we searched (for Kerop). The village of Pertahk looks like Fresno -- a house located inside 10-20 acres. We finally found a Perretzi acquaintance boy, who said, "Your younger brother Nishan was thrown into the river -- into the Mourad River, along with other kids; while your nine year old brother Kerop is working as a servant for someone. He's not in that bad a situation (stomach worms). He has grown tall and herds animals. I saw him last year." Of course this was good news. We told that boy that if he sees Kerop, he should tell him that we were going to Mezreh, Kharpert. Having no other choice, together with the muleteers we reached Kharpert. And five-six months after that date, a miracle, yes, a miracle... I found my brother Kerop. You will hear how later...

173

Through my friend Levon's kind mother, Yeghsa Badji, I found my uncle's wife, Zaruhy, and by luck, by heavenly luck, through her I met Doctor Michael, at whose house she was working as a washer woman. They accepted me not as a slave, but like a member of the family. My life changed. My nights turned into days and deep darkness into light. No more fear of the Turk and curses. There and then I remembered that the cruel God had shown me a miracle. My duties were to buy fruits and stuff from the market; to inform a family before the doctor visited them, and to usher in patients that came to the door. All of them were Armenians. This worship- worthy, philanthropic, kind man, would not only give away medicine for free, but would also help them out a little financially (as they left). I'm certain that he did more than he could. This kind hearted man would send money through me to the imprisoned Armenians so that through bribes they would get out of jail. Our Hagopig's (Michael Hagopian) father was such a Christian individual. If there is such a thing as paradise, I'm sure that our dear, unforgettable Dr. Michael is there.

I have seen other cherished, kindhearted Armenians, such as the person who found a way to take the remnants of the Armenians in Kharpert out of the hell that was Turkey. That person was Bishop Kud Mkhitarian. He turned three rooms in the prelacy into an orphanage. Among the people who were there was Mr. Baghdasar... 50He (Mkhitarian) opened the Orthodox Church...

In Tavriz, it was Archbishop Melik Tankian, who in 1920, without discrimination took care of refugees from Armenia. Another individual was Gabriel Babayan of Mexico City, from whom thousands of Armenians received assistance. He was a Dickranagerdtzi. And also, the saintly Catholicos of All Armenians: Vazken I. It is our duty to remember and honor such Armenians. At least in the depth of my heart they have captured a place.

In 1917 there was a sever famine all across Turkey. Even with money it was difficult to obtain bread. On the orders of the doctor, I used to buy 10-15 loaves of bread, and after cutting each bread to four pieces, would give them to the Armenian beggars that came knocking on the door. I had another friend by the name of Hagop Holopigian, who repaired old shoes in front of the Assyrian food depot in Mezreh. I had told him to send Armenian beggars to us so that they too would get some of the bread. And that's exactly what happened. One day, my friend Hagop brought along an 11-year-old kid and knocked on the door twice. And I, thinking that they were two beggars, picked up two pieces of bread and opened the door. I saw that it was our Hagop and a beggar boy next to him. I first extended a piece of bread to the beggar boy and told Hagop not to knock on the door so hard, so that Aghavnie Khanum, the doctor's wife wouldn't get upset. Hagopig's mother (the doctor's wife) would get upset very quickly. But I saw that the beggar was not taking the bread but was staring down. I wanted to give him the other piece. At that moment, Hagop said: "Lift up his face to see if you'd recognize him." When I touched his cheeks, I saw his face. What a moment! Vay, the conscience of cruel God had awakened... I had

50 See "A Hair's Breadth Away from Death", Ch. 27, p. 194 174

lost my brother Kerop 2 and a 1/2 years earlier, and from my father, my mother, sisters, brothers, I didn't know who had survived and who had been martyred. There you have it: happy and painful moments... And Kerop said that they had thrown our brother Nishan into the river, because he was six years old and nobody had wanted him as a slave... Just be in my shoes and see if you too won't protest against your creator. Do you want me to go on recounting? There is no end to it.

The only happy days were when, as usual, we used to take the doctor's two lovely children, his daughter and son Hagopig for strolls. My brother would carry one of them and I the other. They also had a white lamb. Daily, for an hour or two we used to take them for strolls, going back and forth to their garden. Hagopig was a little jealous of his sister. He always wanted me to pay attention to him. He was barely 2 1/2-3 years old. Carrying them in our laps, kissing them, we passed our days in joy. He loved me very much. To this day, when I see him, I kiss him wholeheartedly. A Keseregtzi man by the name of Assadour used to work in their garden. You could find everything there: cucumbers, striped Armenian cucumbers, carrots, eggplants, tomatoes and mulberries, etc. It was located right across the German orphanage. I used to throw over the fence many things from the garden for the orphans so that they eat them. Often, they (the myreegs of the orphanage) used to bring the orphans out, and although they (orphans) were well dressed, they looked very thin and malnourished. Among them was our dear friend Rev. Dervishian, the Parish Priest of the Saint Hagop Church (in Los Angeles). He similarly was a little boy. He still remembers those days, when he too had enjoyed the fruits of Hagopig's father's garden. There was not a single Armenian in Kharpert who did not receive help from this honorable man: Dr. Michael Hagopian -- not only in Kharpert but also in Malatya, where he was my wife's parents' doctor. And they praise him with pride.

Energetic girls and boys,51

51 College students commemorating on April 24, 1999. 175

Accept my warm feelings and prayers, and be good enough to keep your blood spotless..... It is priceless. The Armenian language is great also -- both the language and the blood.

The White Massacre (assimilation) is horrifying and unbearable. The wrathful fire of God, and black smoke.

176

1. My brother Kerop; his Turkish name Hamdee. "Hampartzoum" was Rooshdee.

2. Bouloud Oghlee Mehmed; look carefully, by chance do you recognize the face? From Perri to Pertahk, he could have been one of the escort soldiers... (Could Aghavnie's husband leave Nishan to his fate?)

3. Altoon Badgie and her daughter Margarite; Kerop (Hamdee).

4. Hamdee for 3 years (until united with Hampartzoum who once again called him Kerop)

Hamdee 3 years as a shepherd in Pertahk just like yourself!

177

In back of letter to Khosrov Yerevanian

1. This is a piece of my heart, my brother Kerop, similar to you (Khosrov Yerevanian); at the same time (1915-16) a shepherd boy in Pertahk!

2. Aghavnie, a "frightful devil," Bouloud Oghlee Mehmed. My aunt Aghavnie, her husband Mehmed, who was there with you from Perri to Pertahk. Discern well and note how does he get along.

3. Margarite, Rahahn (relative by grandfather's side) Altoon Bahjie, Kerop

4. One who has suffered in hell, my brother Kerop; went along with you to Pertahk and then in Mezreh.

5. I, my name Rooshdee.

178

1915: The painful year of exile

1. This my younger brother and I used to share the same bed in our father's house.

2. In my father's house, we were six brothers and three sisters. I have remained alone.

3. My brother Kerop (Hamdee) was 9; my brother Nishan was 6 (Naieem); together they were taken to Pertahk; along with this Yerevanian family. They have traveled hungry, afraid and bereaved. The Euphrates River took my little brother Nishan. More than 150 orphans became shepherds; my brother Kerop, 9 nine years old, became a shepherd; Khosrov, Naieem, 7 years old, a shepherd. With God's blessing they enjoyed 3 years among the "kids". By chance was there a God, was there the Son of God whose name was Jesus? For 700 years he weakened us, pity those who believe.

4. 1915, our last day (together) My father turned us over to the bad Turk and went home and joined in with all of the other Perretzis. As they approached the Perri River, near Hoshay, they stopped; a Turk touched my stepmother who was beautiful. My father objected; first they cutoff his ears... Thus this is what my sister Zaruhy related in Haleb in the Hoky Doon. And this ends the story of my family.

5. My dear Khosrov, it is difficult for me to fulfill the wishes, yours and mine, parents' pleaded...

This much wickedness, our offspring should not forget. My brother, with you, your brother Kevork and my recollection combined to make so much noise in this grandiose country, America. To insist upon the Turk to acknowledge all the evil it has done.

Remaining yours, Hampartzoum 179

Is it worth it? To Read? Upon first receiving "letters" from Howard

1. 1915-21 Disunited Armenian offspring of grief Pictures that "speak" and to be remembered... With our Turkish names... Also with our letters from Kharpert... In what stage... With what emotions?

2. 1915-21, Rooshdee, Hamdee, Mustafa (my cousin Markar)

3. This house is still here. My memory is still fresh. In 1923, when I first entered this house, it was (late) evening! It was 12:30 when I found my Brother Kaspar, piece of my heart, my brother Mihran; Maritza (Bedros' wife). The first morning I awoke for the first time, I saw the baby, Azad,52 in the room. Two days later, Verkeen and Nishan (Sam, newborn)53 in one house. Five brothers, two brides, two babies and now they are all gone.

4. In my father's house we were six brothers, 3 sisters with our parents; now, they are not here. My only son God gave me, now is not here. The piece of my heart, my twin brother, we were born together, is not here.

5. "I am very rich": I have a headache full of letters that depict all of the suffering I have experienced. Father's letters written by Kaspar and me in 1914-1915. Especially the letters

52 Azad, Mihran's firstborn. 53 Sam (Nishan) Mihran's second son. 180

written by my father, very tasteful, they destroy your appetite.54 It is worth it, to read. My letters from Kharpert to Tabriz, Iraq, Baghdad, Der Zor, Haleb, France, Mexico City.55 Kaspar's letters before coming to America; his experiences, his stories are exquisite.

1997, Feb. 1 This is my twin brother Kaspar, a Piece of my Heart

1915.

My father in prison.

Together we would go in front of the jail door. In the back of the door my father would whimper with submissive cries: "Bring me a flask of my Oghie." From within, the swish of the strike of the whip could be heard, followed by the cries of the prisoners: 'Babahnen Ashkhenah, vourmah." (For the love of your father, don't strike!) ... These sounds reverberate within my ears up until now, February 1, 1997! (... These sounds never left until his demise in 2003!)

With my father's instructions, we took all of our household supplies, 100 pieces of muslin (Gudavs) to Gooree Oso's (Osman) house at night.

When the police were searching the neighborhood, Kaspar and I ran to our neighbor's stable to hide under a basket of dung!

My father knocked at the door with his walking stick -- the clothing on his body covered with blood, his body limp, drained from all of his strength. Without sitting down, he took our four brothers to the Turkish megteb (school). Without looking back, he disappeared...

54 Pathetic letter, with my father begging his 2 sons (my brothers Bedros and Mihran) in Chicago to send some monetary assistance to cover the loan father took to send his 2 sons to America to avoid the dreaded Turkish draft! 55 Asking for money for his journey to America from Tabriz. 181

(Space became insufficient; boys were transferred). In the Armenian Protestant Hall there were 300 boys...

I became a Turkish slave to a blind Turk! My brother became a slave to a Turkish official...

7. ...The Kurds came (1916 Rebellion) and we fled to the riverbank. Kaspar fled with his Effendi across the river on their Kaylag. From across the river, Kaspar waved goodbye with his hand...

From the Spring of 1916 to 1923... My brother -- here is his picture. His name had become Rasheed; my name became Rooshdee. For four years I have letters from him with our Turkish names. I have kept 500 pages for myself. Should I read them and thus cry? Should I have patience or should I complain...?

-- An Armenian child -- A child of grief.

8. Fortunately, we lived for 82 years ... But in 1983, God took him from me.

Preamble to the Hampartzoum and Ovsanna Chitjian Foundation

My Dear Grandchildren,

I revealed my unfortunate, sorrowful feelings to you regarding my ideas about preservation of Armenian-ness -- that it is you who are going to become our most wished for yearning for our future. Put inside you the pleadings of those who survived hell, regarding what emerges from disunity. Keep your minds awake and awaken those who have assimilated. We are few but we are superior. Just come together with mutual understanding. When April 24 arrives, they fill all the papers with black ink. But there is nothing worthwhile in them. It is you who should thunder.

182

Hampartzoum was consumed not only with the significance but also the consequence of the younger generation of Armenian offsprings, in whatever national Diaspora they may be in, including the "mother" country Armenia itself, that they be "taught" and ingrained with their history, language and their personal commitment not only to protect but also to secure the eternal continuity of their "people"!

FATHER'S LAST WRITTEN WORDS

Der Zor cholareendeh Gunesh parliyor, Osmanli Eskeree Ghourshoun yaghlior. 183

Ermeni moohajeer yahman aghlior, Denee beer oghurmah Geedahn Ermeni.

In the desert of Der Zor The sun is shining, The Ottoman soldiers Firing a rain of bullets. Armenian deportees crying poignantly, For their faith -- The Armenian martyrs.

2003

Hampartzoum's last written words.

184

(A letter to students instructing them to learn the history of the survivors and what they have to do to maintain their "Armenian-ness.")

My Dear Grandchildren,

185

An Armenian Father's Faith and Dream for His Son

Why didn't I take charge of my son when he was still a young man? I gave him whatever I could: new clothes, new car, filled his pocket with a lot of money, and I left him to exercise his free will when he was inexperienced, and thus, there it is -- tragic days for me full of sorrow. The vow I made on my father's name has failed. My whole faith and vow has failed. I exerted all effort but it was all in vain.

His wedding day was pleasant for him, but it was full of tears and sorrow for me and Ovsanna. And now, we are in tears. When Mardig changed his stance toward us, it would have been better had my two eyes been gouged. It would have been better to chop off both my legs than to sever me from my son.

It would be joyous if at least his children, who are my grandchildren, would approach me lovingly and in good manners, for the sake of their father. May they draw near the Armenian Nation and build a nest in my heart.

May God grant my Mardig the Heavenly Kingdom, and grant my grandchildren happy, joyous days, and a good healthy life.

My Mardig, may you depart restfully in accord with the heavenly will. Give my regards to my father and all the martyrs.

Those who remember you always: your father, your mother, and your sister.

186

"Taken directly from my life -- exactly reflects my life, word for word."

THE EXILED ARMENIAN

In every corner of the world, In all the great capitals of the world, Engulfed in his worries and pains, It is HE who wanders around perpetually.

Though he has a home under every sky, He has friends, he has family, In some places he is rich and in others poor, The fire of longing burns brightly in his soul.

It's as if what he builds is not his, It's as if his wages are blood money, The orchards he plants do not yield fruit, 187

He feels a stranger even in the country where he was born

And from youth to deep old age, Even if he reaches the summit of glory, He still cherishes a sacred dream: The Armenian World, the national hearth.

About an American school

May 19, 1977

This public school is located in Sherman oaks and is named Dixie Canyon Avenue Elementary School 4220.

On February 2, we started Armenian classes at this school with 15 mixed-sex students, which in time grew in number and today we have 28 boys and girls who are learning to write, read, sing, and recite in Armenian and also learning Armenian dances. These classes take place in the afternoons in Miss Sara Chitjian's class, under her supervision.

Noemi Minassian is the parent who supervised the presentation of "Hampartzoum Yaylah."

On Thursday, May 19, at 7:30 PM, we are going to have a rich Armenian program performed by these students: Songs, recitations, Armenian dances, Ascension songs, lottery games, and also a short play that the students will perform in unique, traditional Armenian costumes and recitation style. They will present our saints, heroes, and our modern culture, such as Saint Mesrob Mashdodz, Saint Krikor Lousavorich, Movses Khorenatzi, Haig Nahabed, Vartan Mamigonian the Great, Silva Gaboudigian.

During the next two weeks we are going to have an Open House which is named "Armenian weeks." On this occasion, the school exhibition room is decorated with samples from the art and culture of the past and the present. The students have helped build and install these samples of the Monuments in Montebello, Yerevan, Erepuni, and Mount Ararat with Etchmiadzin. Such 188

examples of Armenian culture have also been installed at the studio City Library, the Sherman Oaks library and at the Security Pacific Bank.

This is the best way to introduce Armenian art and culture to the odars.

Everybody is free to come and enjoy this evening program that our American students are going to present to us in the Armenian language.

It is a true pleasure to see and hear their effort, enthusiasm, and love toward our Armenian language.

Noemi Minassian Studio city

Notes in the margins: May God multiply such offsprings in every family.

At this school, the Dixie Canyon School, for the first time in my life I experienced abundant joy, thanks to my daughter. My daughter had trained the Armenian and American students to read, write, and sing in Armenian. They sang "Hampartzoum Yayla," and two boys congratulated me with candles

189

Friday, 8 October, 1976

ATTENTION STUDENTS

A prominent place has been given in Los Angeles schools for the presentation of the histories of the black people, Mexicans, Asians, American Indians, and the Jews, but there is only one class dealing with Armenian history.

Therefore, during this back to school Period we remind Armenian parents, that if they want their children to get to know the Armenian language, history, and in general about their Armenian heritage, the students should request that their teachers learn about and subsequently teach subjects related to the Armenian heritage. 190

The lecturers for the classes that have been put together for this purpose are:

Dr. Avedis Sanjian -- The Armenian Language Dr. Richard Hovanessian -- Armenian History Miss Gia Aivazian - Armenian Literature and Armenian Manuscripts Jackie Kurkjian -- Armenian Music Dr. Michael Hagopian -- Showing of the film "The Armenian Case" Mr. Osheen Keshishian -- Famous Armenians

The abovementioned lecturers, who are well-versed in the subjects that they will teach, have volunteered for this project, and they are performing it as an unpostponeable national duty. They have incurred many sacrifices.

Armenian parents, teachers, and fellow Armenians, it is up to you to encourage the Los Angeles teachers, whether Armenian or odar, to take this class.

The classes will begin on October 20, 1976. For the location and other information, contact the organizing teacher:

Sara Chitjian at 997-2633 Office phone: 784-5817 Home: 933-6458

A COURSE ON ARMENIAN CULTURAL VALUES FOR TEACHERS

To Armenian parents whose offsprings attend public school

By Sara Chitjian

Los Angeles public school classes have already begun and the students, to a certain degree, will be compelled to get acquainted with ethnic groups and minority cultures in their classrooms. 191

In the Los Angeles public school system, the students receive classes mainly dealing with the history of Negroes, Mexicans, Asians, American Indians, and Jews.

Federal and State laws, however, mandate every school to dedicate some time for the introduction of ANY group, culture and heritage, if students belonging to those minorities attend the school.

Although thousands of Armenians attend public school, there is no statistical data regarding in which schools they are concentrated. Therefore, it is the duty of Armenian parents to demand from the administration of the school their offsprings attend, that, first, the teachers should get acquainted with Armenian Culture, and then should devote time in the classroom to teach it.

Currently it is possible to present that demand, because very soon a series of courses will start for the teachers of the Los Angeles school system, during which information about Armenian culture and history will be given.

All the teachers are obligated to teach about ethnic heritage. Your offspring is learning about the history of other minorities, because the teacher is not familiar with Armenian culture, or no request has been presented to him in this regard. Do you want your offspring to have the opportunity to also learn about the Armenian Heritage? Do you want him to be aware of his heritage within American circles? Do you want that the other students in the class to also get acquainted with Armenian values?

I am certain that your answer regarding these questions is in the affirmative. Therefore, it is imperative for each parent to request from the administration of the school their offspring is attending, and demand that the teachers attend the only course dedicated to Armenian Values.

This course will commence on October 20, at the Dixie Canyon School, (District 1). The name of the course is: Armenian Heritage Part 1 for L.A. City Schools (Credits: 3, 3 IN service point credit; 1 Unit; 8 meetings.)

Sara Chitjian is the teacher who has put together the course.

The following authoritative experts will teach the course: The lecturers for the class that has been put together for this purpose are: Dr. Avedis Sanjian -- The Armenian Language; Dr. Richard Hovanessian -- Armenian History; Miss Gia Aivazian - Armenian Literature and Armenian Manuscripts; Jackie Kurkjian -- Armenian Music; Dr. Michael Hagopian -- Showing of the film "The Armenian Case"; Mr. Osheen Keshishian -- Famous Armenians from the past and now.

192

The abovementioned have volunteered their time to this beneficial work, so that our kids and others learn about Armenian Culture. As Armenian parents and nationals, it is up to us to compel Los Angeles Public School teachers to participate in this course. If this endeavor is successfully implemented, it would cause many more courses to be given to the teachers of the Los Angeles Public School system.

193

Khosrov Yerevanian ...unclear

In Mezreh, I was a servant at the home of Doctor Michaelian. I was not aware at all that they had brought you there. The only thing is that there was Hagop Holopigian, who repaired old shoes at the corner of the street, at the Upper Mayla, in Mezreh, and had a successful business. All the Armenians knew him. He was a truly patriotic person. Dr. Michael Hagopian, second to God, helped a great number of Armenian orphans. At that time there was no bread to be had. Through the help of Dr. Hagopian, I used to secretly buy bread -- 40-50 -- and distribute them to the Armenian beggars. Whoever knocked on the door at least got help in those days.

I had told Hagop Holopigian to send Armenian beggars to us so that they too would get some of the bread. One day, they knocked at the door twice. I thought that they were two Armenian beggars, and so I picked two pieces of bread and went and opened the door. I saw that it was Hagop and a little Armenian beggar. I first extended a piece of bread to the beggar boy. But he did not take it. I also extended the other piece, and he again refused. I turned to Hagop and asked why he wasn't taking it. And he said, "Why don't you lift up his face to see who it is." O, God, merciless God. At this moment, my whole flesh is quivering. How can I control myself? When I saw his face... I was overwhelmed with emotions...

Dear Khosrov, write to me. You have seen, have eaten, and have tasted the emotions of those moments. Please compose it yourself, or direct me to someone whom I could do it for me.

From the generation of Disunited Armenians. A son of sorrow.

When your mother found you, what was her reaction? Disbelief. Is the moment real or a dream? I had not seen Kerop for three years?

I was confused. I did not ask Hagop from where he found him and brought him. My sole and only thought was that my brother Kerop was with me. I was very lucky that Dr. Michael was at home. He came down, and grabbed me as I was shivering ... (unclear) He laid me down on the ground, and put water in my eyes for half an hour.

(Soon after) We became two servants in the same household. But they treated us like members of the family. He was a very kind man. His son Hagop lives here. Very often we get together and reminisce about Dr. Michael's home and the dry mulberries of Perchench. He helped a great number of poor Armenians.

Elder brother Kevork's writing (Last Day) -- sad, black days. They came and left. They enveloped us and went. The last day of my father -- a terrifying memory. They took my father to 194

jail and for 3-4 weeks flogged him thoroughly. When I and my twin brother Kaspar visited the jail, they brought him to the door, and from behind the door he said "bring a little brandy." He also told us to take all the goods in the house, 100 bundles of fabric, to the house of the Turkish neighbor whose name was Guru Osman. They used to call him Oso. They were an elderly husband and wife. We did what he asked us to do. One day he (father) knocked on the door. We opened it. My father was limp and agitated, his clothes bloody. He wasn't able to speak. He had no energy. He said he was going to give his four sons to the Turks. And he took us to the government without making a sound or giving a kiss, etc. He goes home, and with all the others they go to the village of Hosheh. He tells my 16 year old sister to throw herself into the river. The river Yeprad (Euphrates) swallows her. They cut off his ears. The rest ... (unclear).

The above photo shows how close behind my head is to the Catholicos'. My wife's head is behind Mrs. Deukmejian's, who is next to the Catholicos.

I remember the road to Der Zor where the Turkish soldiers were preventing the Armenian refugees from drinking water from the river -- they died thirsty.

This is what annoys me: The glory-seeking clergy of yore and now.

195

DER ZOR

By Kevork Emin

In the entire world, Wherever it may be, When a person is martyred -- Whether powerful or useless, Whether in peace or suddenly, - There is a headstone over his tomb.

In Der-Zor there is not a single monument, Nor a commemorative statue And not a single memorial, There's not even a single ... headstone ... There isn't, There never was -- Who could have dug a million and a half graves? Who could have placed a headstone? Even stony, stone-filled Armenia Does not have that many stones, Sufficient for our tragic martyrs.

There's not a single monument in Der Zor: What giant monument, Or what tombstone could have covered This tomb of The numberless, Uncountable, Never ending victims? 196

Der-Zor itself Is its own monument, Statue and memorial.

March 2, 1978, Der-Zor Desert

(Notes in Turkish and Armenian regarding the poem "Der-Zor" by Kevork Emin.)

Whose heart would not be touched by this title and meaning? Only the vile Turk's and of those who have disgusting hearts like them.

The song

Der Zor cholareendeh Gunesh parliyor, Osmanli Eskeree Ghourshoun yaghlior. Ermeni moohajeer yahman aghlior, Denee beer oghurmah Geedahn Ermeni.

In the hot desert of Der-Zor the sun is shining, The Ottoman soldier is greasing his bullets. The Armenian refugees are weeping intensely, The Armenians who are clinging to their faith.

197

73rd Anniversary

APRIL 24 COMMEMORATION

Organized by A.R.F. Aharonian Committee The "Hye Tahd" Committee

With the participation of: H.M.E.M. Ararat Branch "Vahan and Anoush Chamlian Armenian School

(Note in the margin: "The students' performance was worth thousands.")

A.R.S. Sipan Branch Hamazkayin's Glendale Branch A.R.S. and A.Y.F. Roupen Chapter

Will take place on 198

Sunday, April 17, 1988 At 6 P.M. in the Evening

Glendale High School Auditorium 1440 E. Broadway, Glendale, California

Entrance is Free

Armenians, enough of staying spread out like my fingers, Make a fist; becoming a fist would secure the eternity of Armenia.

(Note in the margin: "With words and deeds; I wish, I wish I could see you as a fist in action, a gift to take to my father.")

Writings in response to a newspaper article titled: "Pupils to Mark Armenian Heritage."

When I die, I will take as a present to my father a scene from paradise. At the Dixie Canyon School, for the first time in my life I experienced abundant joy.

My daughter had trained the Armenian and American students to read, write, and sing in Armenian. They sang "Hampartzoum Yayla," and two boys congratulated me with candles.

199

Dream or reality? It was worth the whole world. Every year at the end of the school year, my good daughter, with her students takes me to paradise and brings me back.

Firstly, I am grateful to the American Government and I am indebted to them for granting the freedom to every nationality that wants to benefit from the opportunity. Then, to my kindhearted daughter, who took this stance to make us happy. Also, to all those kind Armenian persons, who helped, as much as they could, to bring about this happy scene. I am especially grateful to Noemi Minassian, who joyously and with free will made it possible. May God grant every Armenian family offsprings such as these, who are rays of the sun. Those who have experienced massacres better appreciate the stance that good offsprings take. God left at least one door open so that I won't transgress. If they give me all the estates and abundance in America I won't exchange it with this scene.

In 1990, after all of my brothers were gone, Levon, my brother Bedros' son, gave me a cigar box filled with letters. There were more than 500 letters in all. Most of these letters were written after the bloodiest Period of the massacres when all of the brothers had lost contact with one another. This must have been around 1919.

To complicate the situation, in the meantime Bedros and Mihran not only changed from one address to another in Chicago, but at some point they had moved to Los Angeles, California. The three of us, Kaspar, Kerop, and I had their original address in Chicago locked in our

200

memories. Some of the letters were written in old Turkish with Arabic script. The other letters were written in Armenian with Armenian script.

There were only a few letters dictated by my father but handwritten by Kaspar. These letters were sent to Bedros in Chicago from 1914-1915. There are only a couple of letters handwritten by my father himself. His last handwritten letter was dated February 25, 1915. These letters are the most precious ones for me. They are the only possessions I have that once belonged to my father.

When the Americans came to Turkey, they provided offices where Armenians were able to list the names of their relatives hoping to find missing...

But I firmly believe it is impossible for anyone to fully comprehend what actually took place if they personally were not witnesses to the inhumane atrocities perpetrated by the Turks. The degree and scope of the atrocities that were inflicted upon innocent, defenseless citizens is incomprehensible. Unborn babies ripped from God's given haven - their mother's womb; babies killed in the clutches of their mother's bosom; young children crazed and bewildered crying out, searching for their mothers and fathers... Innocent young children dumped cruelly in the rushing waters of the nearest river --- akh, akh, akh. Whatever happened to our handsome baby brother Nishan? The mind is unable to fully describe the tangible and non-tangible suffering and losses... How could my brothers in Chicago understand the immensity of what happened through a few letters, especially since these letters were thoroughly scrutinized by the Turkish censor?

Unlike Kaspar, I was unable to completely set aside what was etched into my psyche and soul. With piecemeal bites, bit by bit, my older brothers and Kaspar eventually learned a little about my experiences. I'm sure they didn't fully comprehend the totality of my tribulations. Kaspar's experience was not as barbaric. Nonetheless, he tool suffered the pain and fear of the Turkish sword and whip. He too was devastated with the atrocities and losses the Armenians suffered.

Thus, I was reluctant to review and aggravate his wounds. That was what he chose. From childhood I was always protective of his frail health (weak kidneys). Perhaps it was too painful for him to relive his past...

A few years later, Hagopig had invited the oldest living survivor to the premier showing of his film "The Forgotten Genocide." This survivor was 110 years old. By then, the years had taken a toll on his memory. While he was somewhat lucid, he had a difficult time remembering the past. The night before the premier, I spent some time talking with him. We were able to carry on a fair conversation about the relative present. But the following evening, at the showing of the 201

film, this dear man began to remember his past. He remembered that his mother was born in Perri. At this point I got very excited because throughout my life I had not been able to find too many survivors from Perri. Most of the 800 Armenian families of Perri were martyred! He was just beginning to remember, and as he started to slowly recall Alexan, a Fedayee who was killed, and who was Altoon Bahdjee's husband, again a clergyman came and swept him away. No longer was I to find out any more about his mother. I often wonder what else he would have been able to slowly recall. How did they escape? Who were they with? I came so close to finding someone who might have had some knowledge of what happened to my family, my father, 2 sisters, my aunt, and my stepmother...

As long as we remain disunited, the more we will remain beggars.

Then we will have to implore from others.

When we are in our own homeland and have cultivated our farmlands.

- Then in turn to relinquish our harvest only to have to beg for a morsel of bread.

202

1983 The Year of Bereavement

KASPAR'S END

It was just a beautiful day in May 6, 1983. Hampartzoum had just returned home from his customary walk. He entered the den to assure Ovsanna, his wife, and daughter, Zaruhy that he had returned. Before he had time to sit down, the telephone rang. Zaruhy answered; it was Sam, Mihran's son. She wondered what "good news could he have?"

Almost all of the "senior" Chitjian were gone. The twins Hampartzoum and Kaspar were the only remaining brothers out of five. Their generation coming to an end... The "Hye Tahd" was not yet resolved. This was a deep solemn concern for both brothers!

After 83 years, the twins once again became close, just as they were the first 14 years of their lives when they were inseparable. In 1915, suddenly they were brutally torn apart never to resume the relationship that they once cherished. But by age 80, once again they were reaching out to one another.

For the first time they actually celebrated their birthday together. For Hampartzoum this was a miracle; or was it a "Dream or Reality"? After living six years of a "dog's life", during the aftermath of the 1915 genocide, followed by losing your homeland, finding themselves in foreign countries, with foreign languages and customs, experiencing the effects of a Depression, world wars, etc., the burdens and responsibility of raising a family etc., in 1981, they were both still alive and with a relatively healthy mind and body -- Hampartzoum considered this a miracle! Jealousy and animosities were long gone! Once again they began to seek each other out.

But now there were new obstacles to confront. Neither one could drive a distance of 30 or so miles; they lived about 30 miles apart. Thus there were more phone calls, holiday cards, etc. They cherished the few occasions when Zaruhy drove Hampartzoum to Kaspar's market, where Kaspar had an office atop his storeroom. His desk was cluttered with letters that the brothers had written to each other during those "dog days." Once again they began to yearn for the days in their "Yergeer" where life was so sweet! There was their father, mother brothers and sisters...

"Are you sitting?" Sam inquired once again over the phone. Hampartzoum didn't know what he meant. What difference does it make if you were sitting or standing?

Sam continued without a change of voice, or a warning. In a flat voice he stated, "Kaspar is dead; he died this afternoon. The funeral will be..." 203

Hampartzoum could listen no more. The phone was dropped. Kaspar was buried on May 20, 1983. Hampartzoum wrote his twin's obituary. He included in his coffin an envelope containing a bundle of fiberglass he had taken from the technology museum in Soviet Armenia, along with a few pebbles he had picked up from here and there in 1969 during his visit to our Hayrenik.

This fiberglass yarn will lead you down a long, narrow highway with this sacred chip from Erepuni, and by rolling it over and over until you reach the summit of Mount Ararat and Massis. This will become much darker, larger than both Mount Ararat and Massis together! Take your revenge and hurl that huge, powerful, flaming missile upon Turkey. Don't forget and remember that you were named Massis!

Then as you arise, take this news as a gift to your father and the 11/2 million martyrs!

At some point, Hampartzoum resumed his daily afternoon walks. Now as he walked he had to reconcile with the loss of Kaspar; for 82 years he always regarded Kaspar as a part of his heart. He always felt that since they were born together they had a special connection... Hampartzoum was trying to get a grip on reality ... His twin was now gone!

But within a day or two, during these walks, Hampartzoum began to notice a strange feeling... For a week or two he kept this to himself. But since it was affecting his behavior, he reluctantly confided with Ovsanna... He felt maybe she could explain the disturbance... She was a Protestant, as was her father, Sarkis.

Remembering the morning Sarkis died: he was sent to Hampartzoum's ice cream parlor to bring back a bag of walnuts. As usual, when Sarkis went out for a stroll, he carried Mardig, who was 2 1/2 years old, and along the way he visited with his neighbors. On this particular day, as he walked and greeted his friends, he bid each one a final farewell; of course the neighbors didn't quite understand what Sarkis meant. Hampartzoum noticed Sarkis looked tired. Thus, after giving him a bag of walnuts, he hired a cab and sent Sarkis home.

No sooner when Sarkis returned home, he laid down to rest! Within an hour he died...

Both Ovsanna and Hampartzoum had experienced this phenomenon... Now Hampartzoum was experiencing being haunted by a weird "vapor" circling over his right shoulder, whispering in his ear. Kaspar was beckoning Hampartzoum to join him!

Even though Ovsanna attempted to reassure him that it was just nonsense, she became disturbed; she did not want to lose him. She knew about the special attachment Hampartzoum had with Kaspar! And she was never ever able to explain her own father's last day! Within a few days,

204

they confided with Zaruhy. They knew she would laugh it off ... She had never experienced such a phenomenon!

However, when Zaruhy heard this, without letting either one know, she too became concerned! She was furious that Kaspar could have a strong hold on her father! She always felt that Kaspar was jealous of her father's successes... It wasn't enough his son married an Armenian, while he gloated over the fact that Hampartzoum's son married a non-Armenian. For Hampartzoum that was another form of genocide, the White Chart! That should have satisfied Kaspar; but, no, he wanted more... Since Hampartzoum was born first, he should have died first!

Both Ovsanna and Zaruhy tried to convince Hampartzoum that the disturbance was all nonsense! With one excuse or another they tried to keep Hampartzoum from taking his daily walk!!

205

October 27, 1983: An infamous day!

"A survivor of the heinous Armenian genocide." At the age of 14, I witnessed the terrifying slaughter and wretched tribulations. Not one day goes by that I do not relive these treacherous memories with anguish. Why was this done to my family, my people, my country? And now this, this inconsolable fate! Is God so merciless that first He allowed the Turks to slaughter my father and now He snatched my precious angel, my one and only son from me?"56

... These were the last words in Mardiros' funeral oratory written by his father Hampartzoum. As unbelievable and unpredictable as it was that this tragedy took place, it was just as inconceivable how Hampartzoum, himself, had the physical stamina to literally accept and process the reality of the loss of his son: that Mardiros had indeed died! Zaruhy feared that her father might not pull through the day.

The fantasy of the "White Horseman Mardig": the pledge to his father that his grandson would pursue the Hay Tahd! Dedeh's pride and joy were no more; Ovsanna will not be able to prepare his favorite dish, dolmah; and on Sunday afternoons, we will never again play a challenging game of tavloo.57

56 Zaruhy still wonders how her father was able to sit down and write his only son's obituary: the son that he had "idolized" for 50 years! He was still not over the loss of his twin, Kaspar, whom, for 80 years, he had considered a piece of his heart! He himself was still recovering from his near fatal fall... And now this! Zaruhy herself was a basket case. How much stress could she endure? 57 Both parents were now at stake! Ovsanna's extreme attachment to his son was uncontestable! There was nothing that could excel that relationship: how was Ovsanna, his mother, going to survive this loss, following the near fatal fall of her husband!

206

The funeral took place. Shocked close family friends and relatives had gathered for the solemn occasion. While extending their condolences, they were reassuring Hampartzoum that this grief was all part of life. He must be strong for the sake of his wife, Ovsanna, and his daughter, Zaruhy... No one but Zaruhy realized the resilience of a true survivor. But no one was privy to the fact that Hampartzoum was under doctor's care for his near fatal fall exactly three weeks prior to the day on a Thursday evening. Mardiros died three weeks later, on Thursday afternoon, October 27, 1983. It was sheer coincidence that Zaruhy had not called Mardiros when Hampartzoum was in the ER and she was waiting for word to see whether Hampartzoum would pull through! It was a touch and go decision she had to make. Mardiros lived 25-30 miles away; he had to get up early to go to work the next day... Fortunately, Hampartzoum gave signs of pulling through, and the call could be postponed! Zaruhy had no idea Mardig himself was going through his own health problems!

While still in the ER, Hampartzoum was X-rayed to ensure that no limbs were broken. He was given 18 stitches on his head -- exactly over the same area he had a slight dent in his skull as a result of a fall he had suffered at the age of eight when he was cleaning the snow off of the rooftop of his house in Perri!

Upon release from the hospital, the Doctor instructed Zaruhy to keep a close watch on his physical movements, complaint of pains, but to be especially alert to Hampartzoum's cognitive speech. Since he fell on his head, that was the main point of impact; because the brain was bruised, X-rays had to be delayed about three weeks. Hampartzoum also had to be seen by the doctor every other day!

On the afternoon of his fall, Hampartzoum had returned home from his daily walk. But on this day he was a little bit more agitated from the vapors he was receiving from Kaspar. Today he felt more agitated. He took his daily nap a little earlier. Ovsanna and Zaruhy were in the den exchanging words about what had transpired during that day...

Suddenly, they both heard the sound of a loud crash. Immediately, Zaruhy ran down the hallway towards the living room, passing the door that leads to the kitchen which is always open and the hallway door which is normally kept closed. As she scrutinized everything in their living room that could have fallen to create such a loud sound... Something fell but what??? Nothing was amiss... As she turned around to walk back wondering what could it have been, unexpectedly she questioned why the door to the basement was ajar. When she went to close it -- as it should be -- she glanced inside. A flash of a horror, a flash of disbelief, a pang of fear... Hampartzoum was lying flat on the ground in the dark!

"He has to be alive," was the only fault on her mind as she ran to call 911... Her fingers couldn't dial the phone; seconds were lost; she didn't notice Ovsanna had left the room. The operator 207

reassured her that the paramedics were on their way. And she was instructed not to move Hampartzoum, and if there was bleeding, to put a compressor on it using a clean towel...

Zaruhy rushed back to the hallway door... Once again she froze; this time, Ovsanna was holding onto Hampartzoum's elbow with a handkerchief from her apron folded, compressing on his cut; both were slowly climbing up the stairs. Zaruhy was frozen; her head took a spin: "What if Ovsanna weakens and loses her grip and they both fall back on the cement basement floor, hitting themselves against this stairway or whatever...!!!"

Holding her breath, somehow, "they both were standing on the hallway floor." Taking a breath, Zaruhy guided them both to the Sofa in the den.

Hampartzoum was in a daze, wondering what had happened. Zaruhy tried to talk to him to see if he was lucid. He still seemed to be!

Hampartzoum lived to be exactly 102. He died on May 25, 2003. The twins died in the same month. During the season of the ascension, Hampartzoum's namesake. This was the season the twins were born? Answering a question, the two boys fought for 82 years? Only this time Kaspar went first -- a point in Hampartzoum's favor.

On the other hand, Hampartzoum always teased Kaspar with all the treacherous experiences he had previously suffered, but Kaspar had not: Kaspar did not experience the loss of his only son.

About an American school

May 19, 1977

This public school is located in Sherman oaks and is named Dixie Canyon Avenue Elementary School 4220.

Noemi Minassian is the teacher for the Armenian language course and the entire program.

208

This is the best way to introduce Armenian art and culture to the odars.

Everybody is free to come and enjoy this evening program that our American students are going to present to us in the Armenian language.

It is a true pleasure to see and hear their effort, enthusiasm, and love toward our Armenian language.

Noemi Minassian Studio city

Notes in the margins: May God multiply such offsprings in every family. At this school, the Dixie Canyon School, for the first time in my life I experienced abundant joy, thanks to my daughter. My daughter had trained the Armenian and American students to read, write, and sing in Armenian. They sang "Hampartzoum Yayla," and two boys congratulated me with candles

A COURSE ON ARMENIAN CULTURAL VALUES FOR TEACHERS

To Armenian parents whose offsprings attend public school

By Sara Chitjian

209

Los Angeles public school classes have already begun and the students, to a certain degree, will be compelled to get acquainted with ethnic groups and minority cultures in their classrooms.

In the Los Angeles public school system, the students receive classes mainly dealing with the history of Negroes, Mexicans, Asians, American Indians, and Jews.

Federal and State laws, however, mandate every school to dedicate some time for the introduction of ANY group, culture and heritage, if students belonging to those minorities attend the school.

Sara Chitjian is the teacher who has put together the course.

210

of the film "The Armenian Case"; Mr. Osheen Keshishian -- Famous Armenians from the past and now.

211

73rd Anniversary

APRIL 24 COMMEMORATION

Organized by A.R.F. Aharonian Committee The "Hye Tahd" Committee

With the participation of: H.M.E.M. Ararat Branch "Vahan and Anoush Chamlian Armenian School

(Note in the margin: "The students' performance was worth thousands.")

A.R.S. Sipan Branch Hamazkayin's Glendale Branch A.R.S. and A.Y.F. Roupen Chapter

Will take place on

Sunday, April 17, 1988 at 6 P.M. in the Evening

Glendale High School Auditorium 1440 E. Broadway, Glendale, California

Entrance is Free

Armenians, enough of staying spread out like my fingers, Make a fist; becoming a fist would secure the eternity of Armenia.

(Note in the margin: "With words and deeds; I wish, I wish I could see you as a fist in action, a gift to take to my father.")

212

Writings in response to a newspaper article titled: "Pupils to Mark Armenian Heritage."

When I die, I will take as a present to my father a scene from paradise. At the Dixie Canyon School, for the first time in my life I experienced abundant joy.

My daughter had trained the Armenian and American students to read, write, and sing in Armenian. They sang "Hampartzoum Yayla," and two boys congratulated me with candles. Dream or reality? It was worth the whole world. Every year at the end of the school year, my good daughter, with her students takes me to paradise and brings me back.

213

HAMPARTZOUM'S LETTER TO KRIKOR, AGED 110

Dear Compatriot, Friend in suffering who survived the hell of Kharpert: Krikor, aged 110

It was so joyous to hear about you, that if they had brought all the saints in heaven together, such as Saint Marcos, Saint Giragos, Saint Thaddeus, or Saint Krikor the Illuminator, to introduce them to me, I wouldn't feel as happy as I would be, if, holding hands, we opened up our hearts, and recalled our memories full of wounds, and told heart-rending stories about how we survived true hell and God's wrathful fire. Let them open and read the heart of those miserable survivors of the disunited nation; and yet, our leaders, charged up against one another, continue in their misguided ways. It's been 70 years that this fragmentation has remained the same. What a pity.

But, during these last years, there is quite a bit of good news, and executive bodies are working so that the God of Armenians opens His heart and grants us more or less good days -- that Armenians exist and will exist.

Our dear, saintly Michael Hagopian's son, Hagopig made me very happy when he gave me your address. It became a unique present to me. Of course we will see one another here in April. May God grant me health so that I live to see that day.

If you were in Mezreh from 1917-18 till 1921, I was there too. I worked as a servant for the late doctor. I have many, many times kissed wholeheartedly his son and daughter more than I have my own children.

Let you and I remain courageous, keep ourselves healthy, so that we get to experience that sacred day when we sit together at the same table.

With loving regards, 214

Awaiting with hope, Hampartzoum Chitjian.

God granted me the opportunity to meet him when he was 110 years old. But it was way too late; old age had already taken over. He barely managed to say that his mother was a Perretzi, from our village. He only remembered my uncle Alexander.

The Turkish proverb says: "Elden Gelen Yeyin olmaz Olsada vakhteneh boulmaz.

If we don't find somebody who would very soon bring what I've seen in life to light, my brain too will "enjoy" old age, and it will be too late. I wish God would send me a good hearted person with Armenian blood who would....

NISHAN CHITJIAN MAZEE CHAP MAHEE MODEH

Just weeks before the genocide, Nishan joyfully sang songs of optimism, reflecting how children were shielded from the ominous fears of their elders and the overall atmosphere.

Unfortunately, a few months later, he was stranded alone, hungry and cold; he had only the streets of Pertahk to call home. Where was his father, his elder brothers? They were always protective at his side...

Considered useless, because of his young age, he was one of many orphans who were ruthlessly dumped into the wrath of the rushing waters of the Euphrates River in Pertahk.

Only from our collection of letters, we discovered one glimpse, an insight into Nishan's soul. Squeezed in at the end of a long letter, on the margins, Nishan sent a song of cheer and comfort to his elder brothers, Bedros and MIhran, who were sent to America to avoid the Perils of the Turkish draft. He thanked his brothers for suggesting to have his father buy sweets for the babies from the shoogah (market place). None of the boys were privy to their father's state of utter destitute and despair.

Nishan's song:

215

"Everyday to my window comes a bird, Very, very cute, ingenious and masterful, Who says to me through song: 'Little boy, come with me and let’s go And freely enjoy the forest, And sing tray, lay, lay, let everyone fly.’

"I have homework to study. When I finish all my homework, Then I’ll have time for fun; Then we can go and really enjoy the forest and sing."58

That this awards-giving ceremony is taking place today is very pertinent to me, because this awarding is not taking place "after death."

******* A lecturer tells his audience: "I don't care when you look at your watch while I'm talking. But it's very unpleasant to me when you wag with them."

******* After a lecture: "Bravo, those of us who remained awake appreciated your words." Another one says: "Bravo, something was missing from the content of your lecture, but by stretching out your speech you filled up what was lacking."

58 Was Nishan wishing his brothers would have time away from their own homework to take him to play, tray, lay, lay... 216

******* At the end of a lecture, the lecturer returns back to his seat and proudly asks his friend sitting next to him: "How was my speech?" The friend replies: "I own a book in which everything you said, word for word, is already written." The angry lecturer responds: "That's impossible; I and only I wrote the entire thing." The friend: "I'm ready to send that book to you tomorrow." "I'll be waiting for it," says the lecturer. The next day he receives the book in a package. He opens it and finds a dictionary as a gift.

******* A man tells the judge: "Dear Lord Judge, I didn't do anything. At 3:00 AM in the morning I was going to see an orator when the police took me to prison and today they brought me here." The Judge: "An orator during that dark morning hour? Who is he?" "My wife, Lord Judge," says the accused.

******* Bored with a long lecture, a listener leaves the lecture hall. Upon his return, he asks the person sitting next to him whether the thing is over. The friend replies: "It was over 20 minutes ago but it hasn't stopped yet."

******* The master of ceremony, seeing that 3/4th of the seats are empty, says: "I notice that today's listeners are rich; each one must have bought 4-5 tickets."

******* A lecturer to his listeners: "Do you have to sleep while I talk?" "No, sir, what we're doing is totally voluntary," says one of the listeners.

******* A man receives a medal of appreciation for 50 years of service. At that moment...

******* Drank some water, Came and hid in the bosom of my child.

Oh, warbler, oh, crazy birdie, 217

Fly away, be gone from my child's bosom.

******* I'm roundish and rotundish, I'm tiny and smallish, My nose is small and tiny, My eyes are darkish, Is there another as lovely as me? There isn't, there isn't, there isn't.

*******

Uncle came to our courtyard With a black jar on his back. The jar fell and broke, Your chatter stopped.

*******

The sun arose, it came out, Spreading golden hairs all around, For those who shivered, felt cold, Its rays were as a shawl golden-woven.

*******

The light is good, The light is good, When it descends upon the mountain, And like a mother awakens, All the living of the world.

******* The cat came so silently, Coquettish like a bride, Cleaned her chin with little paws, Cleaned her tail with her nails, And said: "The sun has risen, Has already reached the side of the mountain, Thos who greatly love mice, 218

Should bring me milk and butter...

******* Boy, get up, wake up, It's almost sunrise. Your horse has escaped, is gone, Has crossed the mountains of Sassoon, And in the fields breezy, Is waiting for its master.

******* Horom, Horom, they shouted, They saddled a horse for Horom, And sent him to the nearby field. Horom went to pick beets, Instead of beets it was grass, Under the grass was an egg. The birdie cracked open and flew away, And Horom said "Congratulations."

******* Sun, sun, come on out, Warm us up and shine, So that in the entire world, No one would feel cold and shiver.

*******

The Southern wind sang a lullaby, A lullaby sang the Southern wind, Sleep little one and grow up, Get used to the mountain breeze and wind.

*******

It's a garden, you are the flower, It's a flower and you are the dew, It's dew bathed in light, You are the unmatched sunray.

It's dark, you are the light, 219

It's a hearth, you are the fire, You are the singing bard Of the flower-filled, beautiful garden.

******* Yes, fly, fly, I shall make you fly, Will feed you meat of a black chicken, Will make you drink water from the fountain, Will make you sleep under the windy tree.

May my son sleep and grow up, To grow up and to become strong, To take ownership of his father's hearth, His father's aches and pains.

220

A DREAM OR REALITY

"A dream or reality" was the theme of a birthday party honoring twin brothers Hampartzoum and Kaspar Chitjian. The party was given by their respective children, Sara Chitjian and Kaspar Jr.

For the first time in 80 years, the twins observed their birthday together. All of their lives they had individually observed their name day, as was the tradition in Kharpert, their homeland. Hampartzoum observed the "Hampartzman Or", "Day of Ascension Christ", and Kaspar observed January 6, the Armenian Christmas day. However, the realization that the two brothers had achieved their 80th year was cause for a joint celebration. Reaching the age of 80 in relative health is a feat in itself. But the fact that both brothers were the sole survivors of the 1915 Armenian genocide, while their father, mother, little brother, and four sisters were killed, made this occasion a phenomenon and a cause for celebration!

Memories ran back to the day when their father, without a word, walked his four sons to the local Turkish mekteb (school). At the age of 14, they were relinquished to the Turkish "authorities" by their father whom they never saw again, along with the other family members...

The four naive, young boys, ages 6 - 14, huddled together, bewildered about their own fate, that of their family, and that of their two older brothers in America. In no time, the youngest brother, Nishan, was taken, with all those too young to be of any use for the Turks,59 and was thrown from a nearby cliff into the river. The largest twin, Hampartzoum, was grouped with the "older looking" boys who might have been a threat to the Turks. This group was "to be taken care of..."

Separated and distraught, the three brothers began their independent journeys for survival. Kaspar was kept as a slave by a Turkish Effendi for several years until he escaped and found his way to America to join with his two brothers, Bedros and Mihran, in Chicago. Hampartzoum managed to escape from entrapment, and began his sojourn of one frightful experience after another. Having brushes with death again and again, in 1921 he escaped and headed for Armenia; he went as far as Iran. After finally locating his younger brother Kerop in Haleb, the two headed for America. But because that U.S. quota was closed, they went to Mexico City instead. Ten years later, the twins finally united with their brothers in California.

59 It's a pity that Nishan was not picked up by the foreign missionaries! Perchance, would Nishan had had the "luck" to be one of the orphans gathered by Djemal Pasha and taken to the Aintoura orphanage in Lebanon? (Research: Missak Kelechian) 221

MY MEMORY OF THE DIRE DAYS -- IN BRIEF A Hair's Breadth from Death

The difference ... in the fates of twin brothers from the day of our birth

Although Kaspar and I were born together, we lived together for a very brief time. We resemble one another very little: both in physique and also personality, also by taste in food and sentiment -- especially by fate. The experiences of 80 years show the differences. Listen:

1. From the day of our birth, because of the weakness of our poor mother, her milk had been sufficient only for Kaspar, and so they had taken me to another woman whose child had died, and for a year I had lived off her milk. Just my luck.

Kaspar knows this -- that he owes me. The proof demonstrates that my mother's milk was better, because the 80 year old Kaspar is very lucky. His teeth are still full in his mouth.60 When he bites an apple, he makes me jealous. In contrast, I began to have my teeth pulled at the age of 17 with great difficulty.61 At 60, all my teeth were extricated -- Kaspar is lucky.

2. May my mother's milk be halal for Kaspar, who, having sucked good milk, developed a uniquely good personality. He was always loved at home, and also was very skilled at school- lessons, while I have always been a rebel, playing and jumping around with the outside friends, and my strong body is little taller. They entrusted me with the chores of assisting my father, doing the errands of the house, bringing water from the fountains, taking care of the vineyards, etc. I don't recall having seen Kaspar bringing water in a jug from the fountain, or him taking care of the vineyard.62 My last chore was to assist my late father digging at the vineyard. He

60 At the age of 82, Kaspar died with his full set of teeth, without a single cavity! His whole life he liked sweets, while Hampartzoum did not! 61 By age 60, Hampartzoum had an ill-fitting full denture: He went through at least 10 sets searching for one that would not rattle! 62 While Hampartzoum was performing chores, Kaspar spent his time with "homework, despite the fact that Hampartzoum "treasured" every minute he spent in the classroom. 222

took me with him. That evening, he left me there on the road and went away, and that became his last chore and was martyred.

Remember and forget, and do not complain to anyone or to God -- it is of no help.

3- During the calamitous days of 1915, after the vile Turks murdered my parents, they collected from the Perri village the boys from 6 to 15, and filled them in the Protestant Hall -- over 200. For a month, they had the tall boys move the goods from Armenian homes to the church and to other large homes, and then they came and started to select 14-15 year old boys from amongst us, so that they take them away and kill them, because they were old enough and therefore would not forget that they were Armenian. They chose me also amongst the older ones, and they put lucky Kaspar with the younger ones. Weeping, I told the gendarme that I was born a twin with that boy, and I too belonged to the younger group. But the boy next to me by the name of Mihran Mirakian restrained me, saying: "They are taking you away to kill you; why don't you let him survive?" And I shut up. There you have it: Fate...

4- Miraculously, I escaped from the window of the jail -- and listen to my first lucky break: Did I say escaped? I meant to say the start of my suffering. I met a totally blind Turk by the name of Korr Mamoe. And he was a thief and took me with him to steal goods from homes and steal tomatoes from gardens, etc. A few days later, this relatively softhearted Turk, unable to bear my crying, took me to the Protestant Hall to see my brothers. We took along some food. When I entered the hall, I saw Kerop, my nine year old brother, and Nishan, six years old in a miserable condition. Nishan was not feeling well and also was hungry and they were all alone. He had laid his ill head over Kerop's knees. Remember and forget. I asked where Kaspar was. Kerop said, "Yesterday a person came and he went with him." That's Kaspar's luck: his Effendi63 took good care of him. Of course Kaspar was humble and also intelligent, and lucky...

5. Kaspar64 with his Effendi, and I with Korr Mamoe in the village of Perri.

Korr Mamoe gave permission for my brothers Kerop and Nishan to come and visit me. What miserable days they were when I used to hear their voices: They used to shout "Agha brother," because according to the rules of our household, the younger brothers were not allowed to call their elder brothers by their name. They were called "elder brother." One day, the two of them came and said, "Tomorrow, they are going to take us to our father." I did not see them after that. Listen, remember and forget. Are you perchance a human being, or what adjective are you going to call yourself? My fresh memory tortures me, while Kaspar did not see this.

63 Meudayee Oomoomee, Perri's District Attorney. 64 They kept the younger ones 10-15 days longer in the Protestant Hall. 223

6. In 19l6, when the Kurds attacked Perri, the Turks fled. On the bank of the river Perri, I saw Kaspar and his and Effendi crossing the river to the other side on a small raft. While my fate was to swim cross the shallow part of the rushing river with Korr Mamoe, and get to Chalkhadahn. From the village of Demirdgee, for five days I watched the burning of Perri and also saw many Turks who were hungry. Kaspar did not see this, and left with his rich Effendi...

7- I was a hair's breadth from death when I escaped from Korr Mamoe and went to the house of a Kurd. Korr Mamoe found out; came after me. The Kurd put me in his wife's bed. She had had a new child and was asleep. Korr Mamoe entered with two gendarmes and said that if I willingly followed him he wasn't going to cut me up into pieces, and thus at that moment I went and kissed his hand and he forgave me. Remember and forget. Kaspar did not see these, as he was with his Effendi. Remembering these things, I hate that I'm the son of a disunited nation. I protest against God for allowing the vile Turk to show us such things from the cruel world. l

8- The luck of my tragic fate brought about that I left Korr Mamoe and with the assistance of a schoolmate, Hampartzoum Der-Garabedian, I went and joined a Kurdish Agha, an ugly and powerful Kurd who had become the proprietor of Armenian properties and livestock, and now came to rob the Turks also. After piling up 5-6 mules with goods taken from Turks, we took off at night. It was rainy and windy and cold and we walked 4-5 hours and reached a village named Akhor. One of his two wives was an Armenian girl. My job was to tend to 20-30 animals: sheep, cows, donkeys, etc. This was a job I knew nothing about. There was no pay at all, except one loaf of bread in the morning and a little bit of yogurt, and in the evening it was the same. Plus, constant fear, because he was a hater of Armenians. I left the animals in the mountains and escaped... Kaspar does not know about these things; he was with his Effendi, "content."

9- I escaped from there and went to the village of Itchme, where there were 21 Armenian boys and women. I took respite there for a few months with a half-Kurdish and half-Turkish man, named Youlash Effendi, who was close to the Armenians. Because of my unfortunate fate, a Commander arrived accompanied by soldiers. For his pleasure, he wanted a 13 year old Armenian girl named Juvo. But I and the girl's cousin spirited away the young girl to a nearby village. On our return, they caught me in the staple. The soldier asked "where is the girl?" When I didn't divulge her location, he picked up a burning piece of wood from the hearth and hit me. From fear and pain I fainted. Thinking that I was dead, they had left. Kaspar was not aware of this either. He was with his Effendi, content.

10- I escaped from Itchme with Levon Gopoyan and went to Perri and stayed with my Aunt Aghavny. She was starving, I was starving. A hellish scene. Cruel memory. Over there, Kaspar's Effendi became my Effendi also for a minute or two by giving me a piece of bread and a little bit of boiled bulghur. Remember but forget, otherwise you cannibalize yourself. What excruciating days! Kaspar was not aware of this; he was with his Effendi, content...

224

11- From Perri I went to Mezreh, Kharpert, and worked as a servant in Doctor Michael Hagopian's house. There, I could finally breathe very well. Hell turned into heaven. He was a saint of saints and the best of men. This individual accepted me like a son. It's worth saying that he was like a second father to me. But it didn't last long. I found Kerop. The Turks didn't allow the Doctor to have two servants, and Kerop was unable to bear life in the orphanage. Once again we fell amongst hellish Turkish families. Kaspar was not aware of this situation; he was with his Effendi, content.

12- I took quite a long respite with Altoon Badji. My job was to clean the latrines, to scratch the snow on the roofs; and doing household chores I was at least earning a living. Markar arrived infected with tuberculosis.65 Altoon Badji66 did not accept him.67 We went to the village of Parchantz. I made a living there by repairing shoes. The fear there was horrifying. They were very much against the Armenians. One night, from fear I saw in my dream a ghost wrapped in a white shroud -- I heard him say, "I am coming" -- and screaming, I fainted. The Turkish woman, the Khanum, woke me up. But fear compelled me to escape from there also... In the village of Parchantz, in order to save your life, you had to curse against the cross, you had to get circumcised, and you had to go to the mosque. It was of no use, if you didn't curse, you would be beaten up and you could lose your life. We had to say the following laughing and proudly, while drawing a cross on the ground:68

"Cross, cross, beloved cross. Lift your head up, open your eyes. He is Ottoman, he is strong. He has a strong fist. He strikes me and makes me shit on you."

Had I not said this I wouldn't be here now. This is the truth and not a fabrication. There's another survivor from Parchantz in Fresno. His name is Krikor Bedoyan... (He too had to submit to this humiliation!) Kaspar with his Effendi was lucky...

13- I once again went to Kharpert -- I, Kerop, Hmayag, (my cousin from mother's side), Markar (my cousin from father's side). By repairing shoes, and also by carrying water to the bakery of the Turkish soldiers, 6-7 streets away, with two 5-gallon tin cans. I used to steal bread and put it in them, and give them to an Armenian boy on the road, so that he would take it to the mayrig of the orphans so that all the orphans would have something to eat. There was a Kurdish boy who

65 Surprisingly, Hampartzoum did not contact the disease, while sleeping next to Markar for 2 or more years! Markar died a couple of months after coming to Chicago. 66 Markar's paternal aunt. 67 Pretending to be Moslem Turks! At the same time the guilt of this demand was torture upon my psyche. How I could I ask forgiveness... from my father? 68 225

worked with us. And he used to steal wheat by filling it in his underwear. One day, upset with me, he wanted to squeal that I was stealing bread. But I betrayed him quicker when he was leaving his underwear full of wheat. The soldier took a knife to his underwear, the wheat poured out. He beat him so hard that the boy fainted, and they took him away, and I and the other boys were saved from death. Kaspar was spared this fortune; he was with his Effendi, content.

14- Markar's luck took him to America, while by rotten luck... I and Kerop and 6 other Armenian boys had only sleeping space at the prelacy, which was provided by Archbishop Kud (Mkhitarian). At that time, because of lack of food and dirtiness, 5 of us boys got sick. They took us to the American Hospital. A Keseregtzi nurse named Ovsanna (Hairabedian), who was blind in one eye, took care of us. If I ever get hold of her, I would kiss her eyes and also her feet and also her hands. That saintly woman, for 30 days kept us without food and washed us every day in our beds. We had contacted mad typhoid. Kaspar did not see this. He did not endure dangerous, cruel days; and he was with his Effendi, content.

15- In l9I9, I once again joined Altoon Badji. I enjoyed a little respite. The group consisted of me, Kerop, Altoon Badji, her daughter Markerid, and a relative of mine from my father's side by the name of Rahan, who, frightened by the Turks, would hallucinate, and imagining that she had a child, she would bear her breasts to give milk. Oh, such a scene! At this time, I not only made a living by writing letters in Turkish, but also saved a little money. When I reached the conscription age, they picked me up and threw me in jail, together with 40-50 other Armenian boys. Turkish jails are worse than hell. The Turkish gendarme who knew me from Parchantz, when I was Khanum's servant, he called me and said, "I'm going to release you and set you free." He had an Armenian wife, and had had two 3-4 year old boys with her, and the Armenian woman had left, leaving the children in his care. And then he added, "Go tell my wife to either come back or to take the boys with her. I'm not able to take care of them." And what a hair's breadth from death: I escaped; God saved me from gendarmes who were chasing another Armenian.69 As I'm writing this and remembering, my whole body is trembling. Remember and forget. Kaspar with his Effendi...

16- In 1920, the Turkish government began to send Kurdish refugee families back to Van, Bitlis, Mush, etc. Altoon Badji knew a Kurdish family. We70 joined them (the Kurds) and 3 days later we reached a village named Djabaghchoor. Once there, we were betrayed. The 3 of us boys and 10-12 girls wanted to escape. But the girls became "food for dogs" when the young Kurdish men took them one by one to the gorges. We only heard the voices of the girls yelling, "Brother,

69 Hovannes Deukmejian. 70 I and two other boys, Avedis and Nazaret. 226

brother!" They were seeking our help,71 but we escaped to save our lives. Kaspar did not see these excruciating days. He was with his Effendi...

17- I went to Persia, to the house of a Persian Armenian. I had a bit of respite; then went to Tavriz. I remember I was so hungry that I went to the restaurant of a Kharpertzi Armenian; but they did not give me a job. The water from the dishwashing was flowing out. I wanted to drink from the dirty, soapy water so that I get a bit of nourishment. But I wasn't able to and I fainted... Kaspar did not see these bitter days. He was with his Effendi, content... Once here, I received some money from my brother Mihran72 and could breathe easier...

18- I went to Baghdad. I got sick there for six months. Again I received money from my brothers and went to Mosul and then Der Zor, where I saw bones of massacred Armenians. The story is heart-rending. Kaspar was lucky, by then he was already with his brothers in America... This time, he was with his brothers, content...

19. I went to Haleb. I stayed there for over a year, until I got Kerop (out of Turkey). Once again, due to my rotten luck, passage to America was closed off. I had to go to Mexico. I entered America illegally. After staying there for a little more than a year, I was betrayed, and had to go back to Mexico. Here, light and fire emerged; my fate changed. I met Ovsanna, the cure for all anxieties -- Ovsanna. But on my wedding day I only had Kerop with me, and he -- just my luck -- quickly got drunk and went to sleep.73 Kaspar had two of his brothers present at his wedding. Again, he was lucky; he was with his brothers.

20- There you have it, the difference between the fate and lifestyle of two brothers... The one who like Kaspar read a great deal, did not know (about the trials and misery; the one who drifted from place to place, like Hampartzoum, experienced (agony and tribulations).

A story from the cruel life of the offsprings of a nation that is led by disunited leaders. One who lived the life of a dog, Hampartzoum.

Should I ever forget... Curses would come from my father...

21- When I had just entered Persia, I went the village of Kehleeseh Kand. It was on the border, 10-15 miles from Bayazid. When caravans came from Turkey, in order to pass their goods, they had to pay custom taxes. The government official there was named Sahlahree Hmayhoun. He appointed me as an inspector because I knew Turkish. My job was to inspect the goods and decide how much custom fees they had to pay.

71 There was no way 3 defenseless Armenian boys could have intervened against a caravan of hostile Kurds who had the intention of turning them over to the Turks to receive 1 Medjid a piece. 72 In Chicago. 73 He got drunk; went to my room and threw up all over my bridal bed, and then went to his room and slept. 227

One day, an Arab came. He was transporting goods to Turkey on three camels. By addressing me as "Young Effendi" he wanted to bribe me. He showed me a few Medjids. But I asked him where he was going. He said "Bolis." And I told him I wanted to give him a letter to deliver... to an address that I was going to write..., and in return, I wouldn't inspect his goods. He accepted. I went to the home of the that honorable Persian Armenian, and on one side (of my letter) I wrote in Armenian with onion juice, who I was and where I was, and on the other side in Turkish I composed a few words, and in small letters informed (the recipient) to hold the reverse side in front of firelight. I told this Arab, "If you don't deliver this letter directly to the person, don't ever come here again." When the Arab arrives in Bolis, he is arrested and thrown to jail. He somehow manages to keep the letter secret. He then informs Mouradian, to whom I had addressed the letter. At that time, my elder brother Bedros was a guest at Mouradian's house (by coincidence). He had gone there from America to get married. Together with Mouradian, they go to see the Arab in jail, and after they sign some papers, they get the letter. After going home, they hold it against the fire. They read about my situation, and the joy of my elder brother Bedros becomes immeasurable, when he realized that I had survived! But I was in fear, thinking, what if this Arab gets caught at the border and betrays me by saying that I had let him pass without paying taxes, that I had not collected money, because of the letter. I was in great fear, (because I could be punished). The law of that village was that when anybody committed a crime, 2 Mullahs would serve as judges, and the punishment would be meted out on the same day, on the street, in front of the public. They would summon a close relative, whether brother or father or any other close relative, they would give him a stick to hit the culprit, who would be lying on the street, in proportion to the degree of guilt. (I too would have been hit until I passed out). I had seen this a few times. What if they found out about my culpability? What was going to be my fate...? Kaspar was spared this; he was with his brothers, content...

22- In the same village, my pus-ridden friend Avedis arrived (afflicted with syphilis). We used to sleep in the same bed. I used to bathe him with hot water to clean up his pus. Kaspar was spared this; he was with his brothers, content...

23-The memory-scene that tugs at my heart most strongly is this: I, Kerop and Markar owned only the clothes on our backs. In the span of 3-4 years, mixing with sweat, they had become stiff. And we had no change of clothes. We had gotten used to the smell. The only thing we could do was to once in awhile buy, from the bit bazaar, change of clothes cheaply from people who used to sell the clothes of dead people -- and that would make us so happy. Kaspar was spared this situation; he was with his brothers, content and clean...

24- If we wanted to escape from one village to another, we could do it only at night, because the danger was great. We lived in fear that they would find out that we were not circumcised. When the flock would return home, we too would mingle with the animals in order to avoid the dogs. We got acquainted with a herder who possessed a bit of conscience. He would give us room in 228

the stable to spend the night. As for tomorrow, God is compassionate. Kaspar did not see these, and was lucky...

What can come out of disunity? Remember and forget. The prayer "With faith I confess" is composed of 24 verses, which are to be read daily. But reading these 24 verses is more sacred and hallowed.

229

ARA OSHAGAN: "I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE WITH THE SIMPLE PEOPLE, TO PHOTOGRAPH THEM DURING THEIR DAILY ROUTINES RATHER THAN LEADERS"

By Sona Avakian

THE ELDERLY PERSON APPEARS

American-Armenian photographer Ara Oshagan sticks his photographs on the wall and stares at them for a long time. Those photographs that lose his interest after a few weeks, he removes them and replaces them with new ones. A photograph the Ara took at the village of Vank in 2006 did not bore him and stayed on the wall for a long time. The photograph was taken near the fountain in Vank, where there is a boat-shaped restaurant and store.

It is dark inside the store but well lit outside, turning the glass wall of the store into a mirror. Ara has photographed the glass of the store from the outside, on which one of the elderly people of Vank is reflected. "It's as if that old man is slowly, slowly emerging from behind the mirror. When you look to the right from the left of the photograph, this old person slowly, slowly becomes more apparent, he pops out," Ara said.

It's from this photograph that the idea of emergence, the main concept of the book "Father Land," came about. "That photograph became a central photo of the concept of emerging, which is a very important concept for this book, because I did the book with my father." (His father is writer Vahe Oshagan). I became a father during the making of this book. I had four children over the course of the ten years that I worked on the book. I started work on it with my father who wrote it and then passed away. Therefore, not only did I become a father, but also replaced my father. At the same time, this ten year process also became a process of self-realization for me.”

Ara first visited Artzakh (Karabakh) with his father, the well-known writer Vahe Oshagan, in 1999. The last time Ara was in Artzakh was in 2006 to take photographs for the book, "Father Land”. “They always received me well in Karabakh, and that is the most wonderful thing. Daily, 2-3 people invited me to their homes so that I'd go, to drink to have coffee, to converse, etc. In America, three years can go by without anyone inviting you over to their house if you are not their friend. I continuously visited people's homes and often sat down and talked to people for 1-2 hours, but did not take a single photo, because to me, the process of taking pictures is at the same time a process of creating a relationship. And sometimes, you have 230

to create a relationship without photography, even if in the process you miss capturing a very good photo. Conversing is very important," Ara said

The photos taken in Artsakh took 3rd place at the national “Visions 2001″ competition. There are no photos of the Artsakh landscape, memorable sites, or houses in the book “Father Land” -- just photographs of people. The book includes lengthy texts by the photographer's father, Vahe Oshagan, on the history, war, and culture of Artsakh and the personal impressions of the author. The book will be published in September in New York. Ara strongly wishes to present the book on that same date in Armenia and Artzakh also -- or to organize an exhibition.

THE DREAM OF THE PHOTGRAPHER IS TO WRITE A NOVEL

Ara was born in Beirut, and moved to the United State at an early age, and now resides there with his wife and four children. He says that he became a photographer by accident. He had wanted to be a writer like his father. He still dreams about becoming one, and has 1-2 novels in his head. For a long time he wrote many short stories in English, but, according to him, he never had the courage to write a novel. One day, Ara decided to include photos with his short stories and turned to his photographer friends for help. Ara, however, didn't think his friends' photos corresponded to his stories, so he started to take photos himself.

“I began to take more and more photos and gradually I became more serious and penetrated deeper into photography. Then came a day when I realized that it didn't matter whether you were a writer or a photographer, a photographer or a musician. What is important is what you want to convey through a medium. When I realized this, I gave up writing and totally focused on photography,” Ara recounted.

He doesn't like to shoot official events and officials, and when he goes to, let's say, a festival, he photographs not the people on the stage but those who are backstage.

“Let's say that during my work in Karabakh I had the opportunity to come into contact with various government employees, but I continuously, continuously, moved away, and wanted to always be with the average, natural folks, who are performing their daily routines, to take their photographs in that environment rather than take the picture of some leader. There is a bit of acting that goes on when people act in an official capacity. They must speak and act in a certain way. When you simply photograph people in their homes or in natural settings, that factor does not come into play, and, I think, this way it is easier to reach a certain degree of truth," Ara said.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU DO SOMETHING?"

231

Since 1995, Ara Oshagan has been taking photographs of Genocide survivors living in America. Perhaps at that time there were many survivors. Ara has also recorded their stories. He and his friends have interviewed and photographed 80 Armenian Genocide survivors.

“Most had eye-witnessed the annihilation of their mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers. They sometimes would question, 'Why did I survive, and they did not survive?' Their emotional world is a very, very complex and difficult world, not only because it took place and yet it is not recognized, but because they witnessed it all and it's very hard to live with what they had seen," Ara said.

The photographer has also met Genocide survivors who blame the Armenians for not putting up a sufficiently vigorous self-defense fight against the Turks. “We have a survivor who used to ask, 'How is it that we went and got massacred? My father would say there were hundreds of Armenians around, with just the one Turkish soldier to guard us. Why didn't you do something?' Yes, a few people asked the question: 'How could it have happened?'" Ara Oshagan said.

He intends to write a book that will include photographs and stories of Genocide survivors. This book dedicated to the survivors of the genocide is perhaps one of the five unpublished books that Ara has written, and, probably will come out after “Father Land.”

A WORLD THAT VERY FEW PEOPLE SEE

Ara Oshagan has also worked inside prisons, photographing young law breakers in California. “Working inside a prison is very interesting because it's a secretive place, behind massive walls that you would not be able to see if you haven't committed a crime, or you haven't been condemned for committing a crime. And I had the unique opportunity to go and see how they live, even though I had never committed a crime or was sentenced. It's a secret world that few get to see. It was an exceptional new thing for me,” recounted the photographer.

Ara Oshagan worked 1-2 hours per day in the prison, which is too short a time to capture the psychological state of incarcerated young criminals. After taking photos in the prison for over two years, Ara realized that something was still missing in the photographs.

To rectify this flaw, he included texts to accompany the photos: segments from letters, essays and poems, handwritten by the young inmates.

“One or two of them really wrote some good poetry. When I visited the prison for the first time, I thought they'd be gangsters, tattooed toughs, etc., but they were very modest boys

232

and girls. They were intelligent and curious, and wanted to learn how to shoot a video. And in truth, they weren't all that different from our friends,” Ara said.

Besides matching photos with text, Ara sometimes juxtaposes one photograph with another, or sometimes all three together. The aim is to create greater descriptive possibilities, to present not only the prison inmates but the history of the place where they lived. In addition, when the handwritten pieces of the inmates are included, or their photos, the personal stories of the individual inmates are thus told. This is very important to every jailed inmate, because they are not allowed to have any personal possessions, their personal clothes, and everything else. Ara says that this photographic project is an attempt to empower personal expression in a place where they don't have anything that belongs to them.

Ara Oshagan is looking for a publisher for his book of photos of these young lawbreakers. On June 2, the “Moving Walls” exhibition opened in New York. Every year, a large number of photographers submit their work for inclusion, but only six are chosen. Over the years, Ara had applied a few times but was rejected. This year Ara Oshagan is among the six who have been accepted. His work done in the prisons will be showcased at the “Moving Walls” exhibition.

TO OUR BUILDERS (QUATRAINS)

What should I leave for you, so that at least like one string from my lyre it would remain, In the building of life it would remain like your heart-abundant stones, Oh, my master builders, what should I bequeath you, So that, like your world-building work, it would last a thousand centuries?

Armenia is full of stones; it still has a lot of stones to build with, Day and night, all night long build innumerable mountains of buildings, There are people still in huts, and there are so many Armenians abroad: Half the nation is still in exile; hey, build to call them home...

Armenian nation, my genius builders, Although you lifted yourself up with your stones, You transformed lonely huts into palaces, Yet my just dream still remains immensely magnificent...

Hovannes Shiraz

233

VOLABUIG (FROM THE DIARY OF A NAIVE MAN) Tbilisi, June 5, 1889

My friend with whom I studied at school moved to another house recently. The other day he asked me to visit him at his new house, and he gave me the address of that house. I went there today. He was living on the upper floor. I walked up the stairs and my friend immediately showed me the rooms. No problem; they weren't too bad; it's possible to live in them. After inspecting the rooms, we sat at the outside balcony and began to converse and drink tea. I asked who was the landlord. My friend said that the landlord was a chinovnig, that he was Armenian but did not know Armenian, that that his wife was similarly Armenian who knew Armenian but did not speak Armenian, and that that woman's mother was also Armenian but spoke Armenian. At their home they simultaneously speak Russian, and Georgian, and also Armenian.

"Do they have children?" I asked. "They do." "But what language does he speak?" 234

"The kid? Listen" At that moment the sound of a kid was heard from the room of the landlord. "Mom," he said, "Tzes na ou litza ya atin makhat vibolne." "What language is that?" I asked. "An international language." "Volabuig?" "Yes."

Assimilated Armenians...

(Note by Hampartzoum: there are plenty of people like this in America also.)

A WOMAN NAMED OVSANNA BY HAGOP GARABENTZ

She has always looked to me as the symbol of the Armenian revolution: Behind a sensitive face, the unshakable will of the Armenian people, and beyond the curtain of her blind, milk-colored eyelids, the gaze of infinity, which is her, Ovsanna Der Arsenian Shavarshouni, the red-headed, fresh young woman of then and now, the virgin of Chemeshgadzak, whose feet were seared in the deserts of the Genocide. At that time she could see. And she eye-witnessed how hyenas with bloodstained chins smashed the skull of her still breastfeeding brother under their hooves, and then heard the scream of her mother that reached the heavens, and then the rape of body and soul. How could eyes stand this?

235

From that day on a gray curtain descended between her and the world. The daughter from the big house became an orphan and was moved from orphanage to orphanage, was thrown from country to country until she reached Bolis, Geneva and Putaket. Arshavir was a Tashnag and a hairdresser. Arshavir Der Arsenian had never seen such a beautiful woman in his life. She was a walking dream, moving from twilight to twilight. They were exiles in the new world upon whom the same fate had befallen. They fell in love and married. Ovsanna had five pregnancies and five of them miscarried. Only they themselves remained. Arshavir Shavarshouni always loved Ovsanna.

Ovsanna was a member of the Red Cross. There wasn't a house left in providence and Putaket, upon the doors of which she didn't knock in order to seek assistance for the Armenian orphans around the world. In front of her eyes the world was slowly turning into the color of milk. She could only see the outlines of people and objects, and yet through the streets of summer and winter she walked in order to save a life, two heal a sorrowful heart, and to illuminate a disoriented mind. Ovsanna was a soldier for the Armenian Relief Society, a dedicated sister, and a forever forward-moving ray. She was a working woman, demanding and responsible. Everything was for the Armenians, for Armenia. Everything was for the saving of the Armenian nation. She was the embodiment of the soul of Tashnagtzoutioun. A Tashnag can make a mistake but not Tashnagtzoutioun. In addition to action, Ovsanna was a woman of words. Her words were sharp and influential. She knew how to synthesize emotions and logic and electrify the atmosphere. She couldn't stand glory-seeking. A party member must give everything without receiving. She worshiped Tashnagtzoutioun yet also mercilessly attacked opportunist party members. Arshavir and Ovsanna Shavarshounis played a big role in the founding of the Committee of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation in Washington, DC, as well as in the work of establishing the local Armenian Community's educational and cultural life.

I was a child of their home. But it wasn't just for me but all the Armenian students. Their home was a hotel. Arshavir already owned two hotels in Washington, and contributed a large portion of his profits to national purposes. He was always on the move. If there was to be an event, in the morning he would sweep the floors, while in the evening he would assume the chairmanship of the event. Later, during the winter of their lives, they left and settled down in Fresno in order to enjoy the sun as well as the warmth of the Armenians. Neither the first warmed their bones or the second their souls. For the 10th time they became rootless, almost lonely, wandering children of Western Armenia. The blindness was now complete. But it seemed to me that Ovsanna was always walking in the light, seeing with the eyes of her soul things that we mere mortals couldn't see.

She remembered the butterflies from her life's dawn, the colorful butterflies of the garden, and next to the garden, the silvery brook, sitting on the bank of which, she wove the dreams of the coming dawns: The house of eternity, the wooden door of the house opening upon 236

a friendly street, while further away, many promises of land and life waited. In the last years, she had become more fragile, more refined and had returned to the realm of the fatherland's dawns; this lass in a blue dress, her hair red and curly, her face pink and transparent, was like the archetype of Renaissance masterpieces; whilst her eyes, her eyes, which could have been sea- colored, were a continuous dream and an unexpected song. And thus, the flower of Chemeshgadzak was resting in the community hospital of faraway Fresno, alone and wispy, like a feather-shaped cloud.

And thus, absurdly, the years accumulate and people get up and go. Arshavir Shavarshouni loved Ovsanna so much that you are surprised that he would leave his wife alone and depart? After Arshavir, Ovsanna's ship became anchorless. She did not write any more. I begged her so much, to no avail. In Fresno, they did not realize that she was a public writer, that she had a sharp pen that delved on issues, that she was able to analyze complex national and international issues in a few paragraphs, and that she could inspire disheartened spirits to fight again.

From all this only four lines of an obituary appeared in some corner of the newspaper. By chance I saw this obituary, and now a chasm has opened between cities and hearts, a chasm has opened between the dead and the living. Next May 28th, who will remember Arshavir and Ovsanna, humble devotees of the great idea, the growth of which became their vow and prayer, and on which path they sacrificed their love and their years, their material and spiritual fire, so that Armenians and Armenia remain forever?

During the last years, she walked section to section, her gaze riveted to the wall, touching the wings of what was to loom next. She wanted to be certain that Armenia will persist, that under the sun the Armenians would have their free land. That's what she wanted, that kind, pupil-severed, that virtuous and vengeful woman named Ovsanna.

3/17/93 - Boston Nor Gyank, July 8, 1993

He's "looking" for the truth.

Both as a Senator and Governor: 237

Deukmejian was known both for his honesty and as a "peacemaker."

May God protect "our" Governor.

This Governor seeks justice.

This Catholicos pierced my heart when he said the 1943 split between the 2 churches was disastrous...

What supreme words: Hopefully he shows the way and works for its REALIZATION.

Hopefully, these three individuals will achieve their best to actualize unity (among our clan).

I do not find fault with Turkey, since evil will do evil...

It is best that WE wholeheartedly unite... and "triumph!"

Were their thoughts really sincere? 1. You be in my place and give your verdict. 2. Within their hearts, how sincere were they? 3. Recall the "images" of the villages of Kharpert, 1915-21. 4. My father's honorable words: "They are going to eat our heads;" "They are going to be 'responsible' for our defeat." 5. May they stand on their heads if they don't "honestly" unite.

Hampartzoum, his heart aflame.

1. Look at their faces and could you say they are Armenian? 2. May they stand on their heads if they do not unite. 3. Is it a sin to say the truth? -- An account of 2 priests and 2 friends! 4. These two images have the same essence! 5. Pay heed to the survivors' accounts. Blood oozes from their mouths. May he (Vazken I) contact me at: 933 6458.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

238

You be in my place and you give your verdict on how sincere they are.

My honorable father's (precious) words: "They are going to eat our heads."

Recall 1915-21 -- the village of Kharpert.

May they stand on their heads if they don't unite with all their heart...

A survivor whose heart has been broken...

239

WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT DANIEL DJOLAKIAN

From one of David's daughters, we learned he was one of General Antranig's soldiers, and shortly after assisting Hampartzoum, he embarked upon his journey to America. In 1922, he too left Tabriz and went to Haleb where he married.

In 1924, he settled in France and raised his family.74 Today, his eldest son and daughter remain in France and his youngest son and daughter live in Southern California.

David Djolakian passed away on April 24, 1969.

74 In the mid 1960s, David made a visit to Los Angeles where Hampartzoum had one more chance to thank him for "saving" his life in Tabriz. With good fortune from Anneta Apelian, Ovsanna's daughter, Sara, was able to make contact with David's daughter, Ann Marie Sherbetjian, in Los Angeles 240

Is it possible that you would give me a moment of your time and open my heart and give me a consoling message, so that I take it as a gift to my father and all the other martyrs?

I have kissed this boy Hagopig more often than my own two children in his highly- respected father's house in Kharpert in 1918... In a split second you brushed me aside rudely and severed me from a deep, religious experience.

Chrikian Nareg

Two events where Hampartzoum was gravely offended when he was rudely brushed aside by the same cleric, denying him a religious experience.

Hampartzoum was gravely offended when the Archbishop deliberately grabbed him away on two occasions from approaching Catholicos Vazken I.

(L to R) Hampartzoum Chitjian, 110 year old Krikor Derderian, the Archbishop.

(L to R) Hampartzoum Chitjian, the Archbishop, Catholicos Vazken I, and filmmaker Michael Hagopian. 241

PREFACE

On July 28, 1977, Hampartzoum and Ovsanna were pleasantly surprised when a UCLA student made a visit to their house to audio tape their trials and tribulations as survivors of the 1915Armenian genocide.

At this time, Hampartzoum and Ovsanna Chitjian were at the prime of their lives. The recordings were made from mid morning to mid afternoon, when the couple was both mentally and physically alert to endure intense and laborious questioning. The whole process was completed within a few days.

This was one of the first of the 800 or so tapes in the UCLA Oral History Collection; thus a sequential outline of questions was not yet available. Consequently, there are noticeable segments where the sequential dialogue is interrupted.

Fortunately, Hampartzoum was alert enough to take note of the omissions and he made a point to go back to fill in the missing segments. On occasion, the interviewer would ask a pertinent question to the text if it appeared that it had not been addressed by Hampartzoum.

Both Hampartzoum and Ovsanna were grateful that both the university and the youths were becoming engaged in the "Armenian Question": A critical event in history that thus far had escaped impartial scrutiny. This is not only an "Armenian Question" but a major question layered by critical events that took place during a critical Period of time in the last 200 years. 242

The couple was left with anticipating expectations!

On January 23, 1996, Ara Oshagan, a renowned photographer of Armenia life, made a visit one evening. His intention was to take photographs of both Hampartzoum and Ovsanna for his collection of survivors of the Armenian Genocide. Before the evening was over, he became engrossed with Hampartzoum's "story." He started to take notes. After 2-3 evenings taking notes with pen and paper, one evening he showed up with an audiotape recorder.

At this point, Hampartzoum was midway into the story. A decision was made to continue on and attempt to integrate the initial segment as the story proceeded.

Thus, again the sequence of the story was interrupted. Consequently, some segments were repeated and some were left out. Likewise, Ara asked pertinent questions that Hampartzoum and Ovsanna might have left out.

These interviews took place over a Period of 2-3 months. By this time, both Hampartzoum and Ovsanna were in there nineties. Their physical stamina was not as strong as before. Hampartzoum was now wearing both a hearing aid and dentures; both presented somewhat of a problem in hearing the questions and in answering them (denture problems). To complicate the situation, the interviews would begin about 8:30 PM and run until midnight. Ara had to deal with his daily work schedule during the day. By now, Hampartzoum's bedtime schedule was 9-9:30 -- thus, he had to make that adjustment as well.

After a passage of 20 years from the date of their first interview, both Hampartzoum and Ovsanna had become disillusioned that the "Collection of Oral Histories" had not made a "significant" impact on the Armenian Case.

Hampartzoum always questioned what became of the interviews in which survivors poured their hearts out, as painful as it might have been, to relive the horrors of their "experiences" and also to be reminded again of what was "lost"! Each interview, as well as the whole collection, has much to say locally, nationally, and internationally: The generation of Armenian off-springs should not forget what happened.

243

300 letters written between 19 - - and 19 - -

In the mid 1980s, Hampartzoum received a collection of 300 letters folded up in a cigar box, each without their envelope, from Levon, his eldest brother's son. The collection consisted mostly of Hampartzoum's letters, which he had written to his brothers, Bedros and Mihran, who at that time lived in Chicago. There were also a few letters written by his twin brother, Kaspar, an uncle, etc. But most impressive were the letters written before the genocide; the last of these letters were handwritten by his father, Mardiros Chitjian, on February 22, 1915. 244

The letters were written primarily in Armenian script. Eighty letters written by Hampartzoum were in Turkish Ottoman script.

Unfortunately, Hampartzoum was no longer able to read the Ottoman script, and therefore he sought assistance. The Zoryan Institute offered that assistance. They not only had the letters microfilmed, but within a couple of days, they videotaped Hampartzoum describing the circumstances when each letter was written.

Zoryan tapes explaining: When? Where? With whom? Contents.

Bedros Alahaydoian, 1 and a 1/2 hour.

1915: My letters from the Black Days To read, to remember, to cry!

It is impossible for the dis-united leaders and especially the clergy to go to heaven! 245

Hell? If they are not accepted there, I will find the appropriate place for them!

From the emotions from my Ottoman letters I will give them a "visa."

- Let them go to a Turkish jail for six years; - Let them become a Khoja; - Let them become a Mullah; - Let them wear a turban;

In order that they may survive to taste the results of dis-unity.

Let them return 6 years later, so that I could see them and to forgive them. But I'm not sure God would forgive them.

H. Chitjian

May they stand on their hands if they do not wholeheartedly unite.

If only he (Kaspar) could awaken and talk (1923).

246

MARGARITE AND NISHAN: WHO WAS LUCKIER?

Margarite, no more than four, saw her mother dragged away. She too75 found herself abandoned in the streets of Pertahk. For a while, one Turk or another took her in, recognizing her as a familiar child from the neighborhood.

Soon after, an eleven year old cousin recognized and they ran off together to Margarite's sister.

But, for one reason or another, Margaret again experienced the care of Turks, until she was finally rescued by the auspices of Maria Jacobsen.76

After wandering around, we don't know how long, a Turkish family took her in. One day, while playing in the fields, she was a spotted by Altoon, a cousin not too much older than herself. The cousin took her to a house where Margarite's older sister (age unknown) was a slave in a Turkish home. Since this family was not able to keep more than one slave, again she was turned away.

From what is remembered, she experienced one Turkish household to another, until she had the good fortune to be picked up by the auspices of Maria Jacobsen and was taken to Beirut as one of the first orphans in the Birds' Nest orphanage.

How lucky was she?

Nishan suffered a relatively short time -- no more than two months -- before he was stabbed in the stomach and thrown into the Euphrates, where he "joined" his father and mother. He was no longer an abandoned child crying for his family!

Margarite suffered during her entire life, at the same time, unwittingly affecting her whole family. As an adult, Margarite was high strung, agitated, despite the fact that she had a successful husband and four lovely children, two girls and two a boys: Rose, Hazel, Aram and George.

She was emotionally dysfunctional causing great hardship upon her family. She not only caused much discomfort for her family members but also for all those who knew her -- her friends and relatives.

75 Nishan Chitjian, aged five, Mardiros' youngest son was left alone, and was subsequently dumped into the Euphrates. 76 Danish nurse who saved many orphans in Kharpert during the genocide. 247

We will never know what these "abandoned" babies endured -- most were too young to remember their names as well as their parents' names and surnames. They were scarred for life, because of the loss of self identity!77

Who was more fortunate?

Nishan, who was left alone crying, first, when his eldest brother Hampartzoum was taken away by a Turk, followed by Kaspar, who also was taken away by a Turk, and finally Kerop, who was snatched away by a Turk?

Bewildered, he remained alone, too young to realize what was happening, but old enough to know he was alone, abandon... Crying in fear, he was swiftly stabbed in the stomach and tossed mercilessly into the Euphrates River...

Likewise, as Margarite found herself alone, but recognized by a cousin, she united with a sister a few years older but old enough to become a slave for a Turk. But the law at that time did not allow Turkish households to have more than one slave. Thus, Margarite found herself alone in the streets, until she was rescued by the Danish missionaries! But the damage was done. She suffered all of her life and her family and friends suffered with her also.

77 Changing an orphan's given name to a Muslim name immediately erased identity. Soon after the family language likewise disappeared. 248

1915: The painful year of exile

1. This younger brother of mine and I used to share the same bed in our father's house.

2. In my father's house, we were six brothers and three sisters. I have remained alone.

5. My dear Khosrov, it is difficult for me to fulfill the wishes, yours and mine, parents' pleaded...

Yours, Hampartzoum 249

DER-ZOR

If you gathered the bones strewn all across the Kharpert Plain, they will transcend the bones found in Der-Zor! BUT... The bones of Der-Zor came about by: Martyrdom... Abuse, beating, flagellation, lashing, whipping, molestation, maltreatment...!!!

Whose hearts would not be "horrified" both by this title and its significance -- loss of life, loss of family, loss of a homeland, loss of identity -- except for the vile Turk and those with a despicable heart?

He who has witnessed the bones in Der-Zor and has heard this song... And I am another Hampig: Hampig Chitjian!

Especially since he too is a Hampig... And he is so worthy.

Arise and tie up your sword to your waist, So I will hang a shield around your neck, In your stance, your mother along with the survivors of hell may Perish and you for your nation!

The time is now for those who miraculously survived to manifest their revenge and show their support.

Open the heart of one who lead a Dog's Life for 6 years and read with empathy.

Remember and sing...Seek REVENGE OR DEMAND that the culprit listens...

Der Zor cholareendeh Gunesh parliyor, 250

Osmanli Eskeree Ghourshoun yaghlior. Ermeni moohajeer yahman aghlior, Denee beer oghurmah Geedahn Ermeni.

In the desert of Der Zor The sun is shining, The Ottoman soldiers Firing a rain of bullets. Armenian deportees crying poignantly, For their faith -- The Armenian martyrs.

Osmanly Heukumeteen Fermaneh: "Kim ki Ermeni Saklasa, besh seneh Zenjil boynunda mapusda ghalachak."

Ottoman Government Edict: "Whoever harbors an Armenian, will go to jail for five years with a chain on his neck."

"If you should hear these words, you'd wish you were a mouse searching for a hole to hide in!"

A Turkish rogue shouts: "Babam Ermeni avrad saklior."

"My father is 'keeping' an Armenian woman... I was witness to this... (A child informs on his own parents...)

251

The Lord's Prayer of the Soldiers of "Hay Tahd", (Armenian Case) By Yeznig Palig

Our Father, which art life giving earth, Let Armenia be thy name, Let your Sun of freedom shine forth, Let your borders grow, As on maps so over the planet.

Give us this day dragon-slayer Vahakn's fire, And open in front of us the gates of Unity, So that having become one heart and one body, We reach the summit of Mount Ararat.

And do not allow the city life to ensnare us in its trap, But strengthen us with inextinguishable faith, 252

Because you are the first sentence of our song, The shiver of the thief that occupies, And our hope's golden ray. Amen.

The Lord's Prayer of Money-worshippers

Our father whose name is printed on the American currency, Let your name be Almighty Dollar, Let your cheeks remain green, Let your worshippers multiply, On earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day the secret to becoming millionaires overnight without sweating, So that by giving away crumbs, We so quickly acquire the title of Great Philanthropist.

And do not allow our misdeeds to come to light, But save us from the blood-sucking claws of the IRS, Because you are the gate of happiness, With you is the dark stain removed, And let us drink the water of life. Amen.

Tom Bradley: "Your Participation as a United Force is Imperative."

The conference of the Armenian Assembly's Southern California Branch took place on Saturday, April 15, at the Davidson Hall of the University of Southern California (USC).

During the special lectures and speeches, amongst others, the conference's chairman, Denise Papazian and Aram Kalustian gave talks. Los Angeles Mayor Tom Bradley was the key guest of the conference, who recommended to the American Armenians to participate in the life of local politics. The mayor also stated: "Your participation as a United Force in American politics is imperative." Instead of presenting the Armenian case as different organizations, I

253

recommend to you that you speak with a united voice, because your effort would then become more powerful and more impressive, and your voice would become better heard."

I wish the day would come when you will rectify your mistake. What is the reason? Why don't they believe?

May they be turned upside down if they don't wholeheartedly unite.

Hell is the future to those who don't believe in the true story.

PLEADING FOR OUR RIGHTS

...On Our Own Homeland!

254

As long as we remain disunited, the more we will remain beggars.

Then we will have to implore from others.

When we are in our own homeland and have cultivated our farmlands.

Then in turn to relinquish our harvest only to have to beg for a morsel of bread.

... Even more I blame our dis-united leaders.

UNBELIEVABLE... BUT TRUE

255

On Wednesday evening, July 4, those who were present at the Los Angeles Unified District's Ramona High School auditorium in Hollywood, became eyewitnesses to an extraordinary phenomenon. Indeed, that evening, the school's mixed sex 6th graders from the bilingual class, which consisted of Armenian and non-Armenians, came onstage during the year- end ceremonies, and sang, read and recited... in the Armenian language.

The cover page of the program was decorated with the image of the Sculpture of David of Sassoun, sculpted by Yervant Kochar.

The headline "Armenian History" was written above the door on the stage, while single- syllable Armenian words were written on the two half curtains covering the door.

Through this door, the students stepped on the stage -- some were Armenian, others were from Latin American or far eastern countries -- to play their parts in the program. They not only had learned Armenian, but they were also quite familiar with Armenian history.

The subject matters and personalities presented included: "Haig Nahabed", "Urartu: Cradle of Civilization", "Garni: A Sun Temple", "Saint Krikor Lousavorich", "Saint Mesrob Mashdodz," "Vartan Mamigonian", "Father Historian Movses Khorenatzi", "The First Genocide of the 20th Century", "Armenian Independence", "Modern Armenia", " Armenians in America", etc. The students recited, in English and Armenian, self-written pieces.

Those present listened with emotion to the young Korean student, Hayn Chol Kim, who, after describing the 1915 genocide perpetrated against the Armenians and the Turkish atrocities, concluded with: "...Armenians can never forget the black days of massacre and deportation. Perhaps only the Turks can forget those days... As we know, if you forget the past and do not learn lessons from it, history will repeat itself..."

Sara Chitjian, the responsible teacher of the bilingual class, deserves our great appreciation and admiration. It was through her relentless and continuous efforts that this Armenian-reeking event took place.

This American-born Armenian lady, who for the past 20 years has dedicated her life to a career as a teacher, passes on the Armenian spirit that she inherited from her genocide survivor parents not only to the new Armenian generation, but also presents to non-Armenians the historical past of the Armenian people and her strong culture heritage.

We congratulate her and her colleagues and wish success to their noble mission.

Reporter for "Nor Or", Friday, June 20, 1980.

256

A SIGNIFICANT SCHOOL ACHIEVEMENT (Non-Armenians performed along with Armenians in Armenian)

On the evening of Wednesday, June 4, from 7:30 to 9:30 PM, in the presence of a special group of spectators, a splendid show took place at the auditorium of the Ramona High School, organized by Miss Sara Chitjian and with the participation of 28 Armenian and non-Armenian students. Music, speeches, dances and recitations in Armenian and English succeeded one another, and, it's possible to say, outshined one another.

The students of Ramona High School, despite their young age, having learned their parts perfectly, smiling and bold, captured the sensitive attention of the spectators, garnering solid applause and shouts of encouragement. It was worth watching and enjoying the smiles and activities of the young students, especially the Armenian recitations and songs emanating from the lips of the Spanish speaking students, which were performed with authentic accents. Some spectators wanted to go on stage and kiss them.

A Korean student, Hayn Chol Kim, with the innocent lips of a child, described sad episodes from the Genocide, chastising the murders perpetrated by the Turkish barbarians.

Slides and photographs with Armenian and English explanations, as well as group and solo dances in authentic costumes were also presented.

One after another, the following images were presented: Mount Ararat, Haig Nahabed, Urartu, Garni, Etchmiadzin, Saint Krikor Lousavorich, Saint Mesrob Mashdodz with his alphabet in large type, Vartan Mamigonian, Movses Khorenatzi, famous Armenian personalities in American life, the Armenian Genocide, the Armenian Independence, the monuments of Sardarabad and Dzidzernagapert, Armenian carpet-making woven as an American flag, thus refreshing old memories and enthusing those present.

The entire cover page of the program was decorated with the splendid image of the Sculpture of David of Sasoun by Yervant Kochar. The program began with the welcoming speech of Miss Silva Kalousdian. The program was emceed by Miss Silva Tavitian; and the songs were taught by the efforts and leadership of expert musician Mrs. Anais Topalian.

257

The Armenian recitations had been translated into English by Mrs. Hermineh Hatzigian; the dancers were taught by Mrs. Angela Savoyan; while the Armenian costumers were provided by Mrs. Aprahamian and the Ferrahian Secondary School.

In addition to the efforts of the parents of the students, we also congratulate Principal Mr. Brickman, Supervisor Mr. Torchia, and Vice-principal Li, who were applauded by the spectators and the students. It is also worth mentioning the names of Rita Manougian, who had drawn the large type Armenian alphabet and Miss Grace Manoucherian who accompanied the singers on the piano.

We must time and time again commend Armenian teacher Miss Zaruhy Chitjian, the central figure of the entire program, who, as a teacher for over a decade, has brought honor to the Los Angeles Armenian community and her patriotic parents, and for the fifth time has presented to us especially joyous moments.

It is wished that the large number of Armenian teachers would follow Miss Chitjian's example.

258

This is my twin brother Kaspar, A Piece of my Heart

1915.

My father in prison.

February 1, 1997! (... These sounds never left until his demise in 2003!)

With my father's instructions, we took all of our household supplies, 100 pieces of muslin (Gudavs) to Gooree Oso's (Osman) house at night.

When the police were searching the neighborhood, Kaspar and I ran to our neighbor's stable to hide under a basket of dung!

(Space became insufficient; boys were transferred). In the Armenian Protestant Hall there were 300 boys... 259

I became a Turkish slave to a blind Turk! My brother became a slave to a Turkish official...

The Kurds came (1916 Rebellion) and we fled to the riverbank. Kaspar fled with his Effendi across the river on their Kaylag. From across the river, Kaspar waved goodbye with his hand...

From the Spring of 1916 to 1923... My brother -- here is his picture. His name had become Rahsheed; my name became Rooshdee. For four years I have letters from him with our Turkish names. I have kept 500 pages for myself. Should I read them and thus cry? Should I have patience or should I complain...?

-- An Armenian child -- A child of grief.

1915 - 1996

I used to return home in a sad mood.

Although there wasn't a big crowd this year, I had the opportunity to hear the voice of the spouse of the honorable Bob Dole. It was like the whole world was given to me. With a loud voice she shouted that only Bob Dole would present the wishes of the Armenians to the world. The hope given by the great Congressperson regarding the genocide was like the voice of God. I became so raptured that at the end of the event, I approached the honorable angel, Mrs. Dole, and told her that I was a ninety-five-year-old survivor. She shook my hand. I turned away and after walking a few feet, one of her bodyguards said to me that she wanted to see me again. She grabbed me and hugged me. Never in my life had I experienced such an occurrence. God was with me.

260

I have suffered a great deal, remembering my father's, mother's, brother's, sister's bones and the bones and bodies of my relatives.

Armenians unite. Think wisely. Beware of the positions you are taking. Do not push away those who survived the cruelties of the Turks...

I am old and pains are many, many.

A survivor without hope, H. Chitjian

Those Were the Days 1915

1. Gut-wrenching words:

a) My father relinquished us four brothers to the virtue-less Turk without an embrace; without glancing back he disappeared from view...

b) We entered the Turkish Mekteb; 2-300 hundred children (5-15 year old). Most did not know Turkish, but...with fear they immediately taught us.

c) A Mullah entered and quickly changed our names: My name became Rooshdee, Kaspar, my twin, Rahsheed, Kerop's was Hamdee, and Nishan's was Naheem.

d) They taught us their religion: "Le Allah, illeh Allah, Muhammedi Rasul Allah" (There's no God but God, and Mohammed is His prophet). 261

e) They taught us their national anthem: Osmanlee eez, Kardashleek der; We are Ottomans; it is a brotherhood; Menk Osmantzi enk, Yeghpayroutioun eh;

Knahnahnehmeez Azerly; Our roots are Azerly; Mer armadnereh azerly en;

Beezeem Vahtahnah janlahrez ghurban; For our homeland we sacrifice our life; Mer hayrenikin hokeenees goodank;

Osmanlee eez, Kardashleek der; We are Ottomans; it is a brotherhood; Menk Osmantzi enk, Yaghpayroutioun eh;

f) Words to enrage Armenians:

Gyavour oshagee beh u deekijeh, yehreh geernahrr; As the gyavour's offspring matures, he is submerged in the earth; Hayoon zavageh medznalov kedeeneh ge mednah.

g) Gyavouren gunu Lakh lakh keemee, lakh lakh eeanan gecher; The gyavour's day is spent in idle talk.

YEAR OF MOURNING - 1915

1. Our father relinquished 4 brothers to the bad Turk and without turning back he disappeared for eternity... Affliction, yes.

2. We were 150-200 Armenian boys between 4-14 years old... To be "Turkified".

3. First our names were changed: They named me Rooshdee, My twin brother, Rahsheed, My brother Kerop, Hamdee, 262

My youngest brother, Naheem.

4. Then they taught us their religion: "Leh Eelah, hemdeellah, hawk dour Mehmed Rahzoul Ohllah..."78

5. Then they taught us their history: Yahshasehn Hurriyet, Adalat, Musafat, yahshasehn millet. Osmanlee eez, Kardashleek der;

Kahnahnehmeez Azerly; Beer Vahtahnah janlahrr ghurban; Osmanlee eez, Kardashleek der.79

6. Every so often during the day the town crier would shout: "Whoever harbors an Armenian will remain in jail for five years." When you hear that voice, Wherever you might have been at that moment, Search for a place and like a mouse go in.

7. Any time you encounter someone with a dilemma, may it be a rogue youngster, Or a dirty old Turk, a Turkish woman while at work or as a passerby, while walking, if you do not acquiesce, by addressing them by tilting your hand to your head while taking a bow, you will be accused of swearing against their religion -- you will find yourself in jail.

Cross, cross, beloved cross, Lift your head and open your eyes. He is an Ottoman, he is strong, He has a strong fist, He strikes me and makes me defecate on you! And with force they would insist that you defecate or pee.

78 Mohammed is a saint and his teachings are correct. 79 Long live Freedom, Liberty, Fraternity; long live the people. We are Ottomans, we are brothers; our customs are ancient. We must devote our lives as a gift towards our country. We are Ottomans, we are brothers. 263

Remember, remember and keep quiet, or else I would not be here today. Here you have un-united Armenian offspring, children of grief.

9. The Turks had a saying to demoralize (denigrate) Armenians by recounting the story where a Turk rapes the wife of a "helpless" husband...

Read this saying and then crumble.

10. Even though I was only 14 years old, I was able to comprehend Turkish.

a) As the gyavour's offspring matures, he is submerged in the earth; Gyavour oshagee beh u deekijeh, yehreh geernahrr; Hayoon zavageh medznalov kedeeneh ge mednah!

b) My the Armenians' final decision be mine. Gyavouren son ekhleh bende olsa deh; Gyavoureen vercheen khelkeh indzee ellar!

Even though that is correct, our disunity will always keep us subjugated.

An example from the past, from 1915-1917: Even though that's correct, even though it is very intolerable, it is a curse.

11. With what could I console my mind? Remembering the bones on the plains of Kharpert, whence the American soldier was buying each gunny sackfull (of bones) for one dollar... How cheap! The price of a dog's flesh...

Remember and crumble... fall into pieces.

NOR OR Bi-weekly, Tuesday, January 31, 1984 264

RAMGAVAR FREE PRESS

AN IMPORTANT FACT WE ARE NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO

The Armenian press almost ignored an event which with its consequences would bring forth a dangerous crisis related to the just resolution of the Armenian Case and the return of the occupied Armenian lands.

In November of 1981, when Turkish dictator, General Evren, paid an official visit to Pakistan, among other things, he stated that he would gladly welcome to Turkey about 5000 Afghan refugees of Turkish descent, who had found refuge in Pakistan as a result of the Afghan civil war.

On the first line of these refugees were 1200 Kirghiz nomads, who, under the leadership of Rahman Gul, had left the high mountains of Afghanistan and settled in the Gilgit Valley in Pakistan. Unable to bear the climate there, which is totally different from the cold air of their Habitat on the Pimir Mountains, they had initially expressed the wish to be settled in Alaska. General Evren's invitation had changed everything. The Kirghiz and the Turcoman, who have no linguistic or racial similarities with the other refugees from Afghanistan, the Patans, had immediately accepted Evren's invitation. For example, one of them stated: "We were always a minority in Afghanistan. The situation is the same in Pakistan. While in Turkey, we would be joining our people."

In August of 1982, Turkish airplanes began to transport the Kirghiz and Turcoman to Turkey. Arriving from the various refugee camps, they got on planes in the city of Islamabad in Pakistan, and landed at the Adana airport. Many were settled in the agricultural area of Serin Yol near Antakya, while the genuine Kirgizes were sent east, to Erdjis, in the province of Van. Many of the Turcoman settled in the high plateau areas east of Ankara.

During this first airlift 3766 refugees settled in Turkey.

While on August 17, 1983, again from Islamabad, about, 330 Kirgizes, Turcoman, and Uzbeks were transported to Turkey to join their fellow ethnic members and relatives.

Turkey made no official declarations regarding the resettlement of these Turkic races, and the laconic and opaque press reports did not accurately mention the location or locations of these settlements. It is clear, however, that so far 4096 Turks who were brought in were sent to the eastern provinces of Turkey, that is to say, to historical Armenia, to settle down in the mountainous areas of Van, as well as the Kars and Ararat plateaus. 265

According to various sources, the Turkish government has spent fifty million dollars for the implementation of this resettlement program. While in Pakistan, thousands of other refugees are waiting for Turkish planes.

These are the facts regarding the issue of resettling Turkish races in Turkey.

And we Armenians, without losing time, must examine this dangerous situation and come to urgent conclusions to effectively counter it without delay.

The truth is very clear. Turkey is making an effort to fill the areas that were emptied of Armenians and remained deserted and uninhabited for seventy years, with refugees with Turkish roots, so that when needed, it would have one more argument to reject Armenian territorial demands. In the 1920s, there was an attempt to increase the presence of Kurds in those areas, which increased the hunger for the latter for racial self determination, which caused Mustafa Kemal to order the death of hundreds of thousands of Kurds and their forced deportation toward western Anatolia, all the way to the areas of Izmir and Bursa.

Which means that today Turkey, despite the passage of decades, is still pursuing the same policy toward Western Armenia. The resettled races that seemingly have totally cut off their ties with Afghanistan are the greatest dangers to our future plans. Once settled, these nomadic and uncivilized races would be occupying the most sacred, the most fertile, and the most valuable and important areas of historical Armenia. And soon, with their fast population growth, they will fundamentally change the racial demographic picture and character of Western Armenia.

And history will repeat itself with infinitely severe consequences for us.

Turkey's policy regarding the eastern provinces is not new. Already in the beginning of the 1880ies, facing the threat of the newly revived Armenian Case, Abdul Hamid had altered the borders and administrative structure in the six provinces, as a result of which, in none of the provinces the Armenians were a majority. And, as a result of the Russo-Turkish war of 1876- 1878, he had resettled in Western Armenia Turkish peasants from the Balkans, along with Circassians, Chechens and other races, fundamentally changing the Armenian demographic character of the Armenian-inhabited six provinces.

These resettlement activities continued later on also. In 1911, during the Balkan War and the Period before the start of WW I, Turks and members of other races were mostly taken to Western Armenia.

The resettlement of Turks and their increasing numbers, together with the presence of Kurds living in the various areas of Western Armenia, put our territorial demands in an 266

extraordinarily difficult situation. Merely decades ago, a number of Armenians who had survived the genocide, were still eking a living on the Ararat Plateau, as well as the regions of Sasoun and Mush, but always subservient to the whims of Kurdish Aghas and the pressures of the Turkish government. Today, those Armenians hardly exist anymore. Unable to bear the persecutions, those peasants from the mentioned areas, as well as from further south, from Dickranagerd and the village of Sernak, have emigrated first to Bolis and then to Western Europe, especially to West Germany and Holland.

That is to say, Western Armenia today is empty of its indigenous element: the Armenian.

The catastrophe has already taken place. But at least we should be able to prevent the further increase of the danger. That is to say, we must look for and implement all means to prevent the resettlement of new refugees in Western Armenia, the lands that belong to us. The Armenian political parties and other organizations must without delay adopt a unified stance regarding this situation and must begin to act immediately.

The Intergovernmental Committee on Migration and the United Nations High Commission for Refugees are actively participating in the resettlement of the Turkish races in Turkey. It is essential that we approach these bodies, and protest, explain and demand of them not only not to offer any assistance, but on the contrary, to prevent such resettlement activities in the name of law and justice.

The factual, complete and logical presentation of our territorial demands to the individuals who comprise the abovementioned bodies would give satisfactory results to our requests. In any case, a movement with united forces could not bring any harm, but on the contrary, the danger is so great that each attempt to stop it would already be considered a victory for us.

If engaging in the Armenian case and exerting effort towards its realization is often considered a hopeless enterprise, we can in this case work to avert a clear situation and a real danger.

It is not an unreal alarm bell that is tolling from Western Armenia. Let us hear its ringing.

Baikar Weekly

267

1915... April 24 1987... May 25

Memorial Day -- Rose Hills... A piece of writing on the way to the cemetery.

There you have it -- the life of an inconsolable survivor.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

268

Of the generation of splintered Armenians; Son of Grief.

269

Tomorrow, Sunday, 1988.2.7 ZORY PALAYAN WILL PUT ON AN APPEARANCE IN LOS ANGELES

Would perchance Zory Palayan talk to me?

The wish, hope, and effort of a survivor of the April 24, 1915 genocide... Meeting with an Armenian intellectual.

The consoler of the feelings of my sad heart. A beggar for a good-hearted person of good conscience.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

270

Beer vatanah djanchar kurban, Osmanlee eez, Kardashleek der.

For two months, with the help of the older boys, they filled the abandoned goods from the Armenian houses inside the Armenian church and school.

Then they came and separated the older boys to murder them. They put me in the older group and my brother Kaspar with the younger group. I screamed that I belonged to the younger group. But Mihran Mirakian, an elder boy of 15-16, silenced me buy saying: "At least your brother will be saved." I stopped screaming. As we wept, they took us to a separate room and 271

closed the door. An armed Turk was there. This angelic Mihran had a pocket knife. He removed the iron mash from the window, and lifting the young boys over his shoulders, helped them jump out into the back yard. The gendarme heard the thumping "tap, tap" sound of the boys jumping. He began to scream at us: "Geber mien biraz sora siz deh babalarnez yanenah gedersiniz." (Those who are still alive will soon join your fathers.) After 4-5 boys had jumped, he lifted me up and I too jumped. It was 7-8 feet but I wasn't hurt. But I was confused. God, where should I go? I saw two boys going toward the river. And I began to walk toward the marketplace. I reached the Muselleh Stone, where the Turks used to bring the dead before taking them to burial. I saw my aunt's husband's father. His name was Ago Ibo. He saw me and told me to stop. A tall, blind Turk was passing by him. He went and spoke to him. The blind man pointed his walking stick to me and said: "Chitjinen oglu, (son of Chitji) don't be afraid, I will save you."

For the first time in my life at the Dixie Canyon School, I experienced a joyous merriment from my daughter ... This meant the world to me!

272

In this school, my daughter taught Armenian and non-Armenian students Armenian history, reading and writing and songs in Armenian. They sang "Hampartzoum Yaylah" (a song honoring my "name" day), and two boys bearing candles congratulated me with a hug...

Was this a dream or reality??

P.S. (This was the first year Hampartzoum was honored with this celebration... He was 76 years old!!)

DJEMAL PASHA'S GRANDSON WANTS THE MEMORY OF THE MARTYRED IN 1915 COMMEMORATED

Hasan Djemal, the well known Turkish journalist, commentator, and columnist for the Milliyet newspaper, who is the grandson of Djemal Pasha, the Marine Minister and one of the

273

key organizers of the Armenian Genocide, on April 24 came out with an article dedicated to the memory of the Armenian martyrs, titled: "I share the April 24 pain of the Armenians."

"Today it's April 24. April 24, 1915 presents one of the most scandalous pages of the Ottoman Empire which was written by "Ittihad Ve Terakki" (the Committee of Union and Progress). The Ottoman Armenians, who for centuries had lived and created in Anatolia, suffered great ordeals on the lands where they used to live. They experienced great pain in the hands of the state, which uprooted them, massacred them and tried to annihilate their traces forever. These pages of history are characterized by some people as 'deportation,' others call it a 'tragedy,' some others call it 'genocide,' and some others define it as a 'great calamity.' But no matter what it is called, it is not possible to deny it," Hasan Djemal writes, underlying the fact that denying the murder of hundreds of thousands of Armenians by the ottoman empire in 1915, which is a crime against humanity, means to become an accomplice to that monstrous and terrifying crime.

"Certain voices are reaching my ears saying: Haven't the Turks, the Muslims experienced any pain? Weren't they uprooted from the Balkans? Weren't they deported en masse from the Caucasus? Weren't their traces erased? Naturally, they have experienced pain. The Turks, and the Kurds, and the Alevis of Anatolia, from the depths of history to today have experienced pain. Nonetheless, the history of what state, what nation is composed of exceptionally beautiful pages? But today is April 24, the Commemoration Day of the tragedy of the victims of the Armenians, the Armenian nation, that lived on these lands. First, come and share in the April 24 sorrow of the Armenians, and let us try to feel in our hearts the pain, and let us feel it equally with the Armenians," writes Djemal Pasha's grandson, as he recalls his visit to the Dzidzernagapert Monument in 2008. "It was in September of 2008, when I was in Yerevan, when I visited the monument dedicated to the victims of the genocide. For a moment I was alone with dear Hrant (Dink) in front of the monument. It was the pain of Hrant that had brought me to the monument. It was morning, the sun was rising. The glorious summit of Mount Ararat was hidden behind the clouds of fog -- seen one moment and hidden the next. In the silence of the morning I laid white carnations in front of the genocide monument and Hrant's voice rang in my ears: 'First of all let us come to respect each other's sorrow,'" writes Hasan Djemal. And he concludes with: "It is time that we, individually, and on the state level, share the April 24 pain of the Armenians. Hrant, my brother, I share that pain, and sincerely miss you; may you rest in peace."

274

MYSTERIES GIVE WAY TO A VISIT TO THE PAST CENTURIES80

By Hampartzoum Musayelian

ARDASHAD

The archeological exploration in ancient Ardashad being performed by the Institute of Archaeology and Ethnography of the National Academy of Sciences of Armenia is yielding new data about the history and cultural life of the ancient capital of Armenia.

The excavation being performed by Academician B. Arakelian at the "4th Hill" of Khor Virab, revealed traces of ancient walls and a new passageway guarded by impressive towers, located between the citadel of the ancient capital and the central area of the territory.

According to the scientist, it seems that the passageway was the most important hub for communication and internal mutual interaction.

Other discoveries include an entire city quarters for artisans, including kilns for clay pottery making, bathing pools and public baths.

The work of construction had been performed according to an appropriate level of planning. Proof of this are the three newly discovered roads and the orderly layout of the buildings.

The local and imported artifacts that were discovered during the excavation belong to the Period from the 2nd century BC to the 4th century AD.

"The results of this excavation," Academician B. Arakelian says, "significantly expand our knowledge of the life and culture in the ancient capital, as well as its commercial and economic ties with its neighboring countries."

DVIN

80 Zaruhy never knew Hampartzoum was interested in Armenia's ancient past. He would be pleased Zaruhy is also supporting further study in archeology. It was the Hampartzoum and Ovsanna Chitjian Foundation that subsidized the group that discovered a 5000 year old shoe in Armenia. The find made world-wide news. 275

The excavation by Professor G. Ghavatarian at Dvin, the famous commercial-artisan and cultural center of medieval Armenia lasted four decades. His research shed light over a number of unexplained, complex, and knotty cultural issues of the Trans-Caucasus and the Near East.

Professor V. Haroutiounian also partook in the exploration of Dvin's architectural monuments, while Kh. Musheghian did explorations in the realm of numismatics.

Currently, after the death of the famous scientist, the excavation at Dvin is being continued by his progeny, the young scientist A. Kalantarian from the Institute of Archaeology and Ethnography.

His explorations done during the past few years have brought to light workshops for manufacturing and a number of interesting artifacts, which make it possible to elucidate certain issues related to city planning and the organization of living spaces in those ancient regions.

Previously, large number of statues had been found there, including large, decorative bricks from a stone-built house.

Of the new statues found during the excavations near the grounds of the citadel, statues of a warrior in battle fatigues and of a luxuriously ornamented woman are notable.

The classically styled, vertical ornamental columns and the presence of other architectural artifacts bring us to the conclusion that there was once a huge building there.

In the central section of the city, a 5th century palatial building, probably the column- decorated basilica hall of the Catholicosate was discovered, within the Periphery of which exist a number of distinct archeological strata from the 60ies of the 5th century to the 9th century.

Ninth century glass and ceramic artifacts were particularly abundantly present there. (Local and imported colored jugs, cups with bases, vessels with large capacity, plates, etc.)

A quite well planned section of a street was also discovered, with orderly lined up houses. Inside the building glazed ceramics, kitchen utensils, jars, etc. were discovered. In another section of the dig, bread baking hearths, pottery kilns, and other archaeological evidence of a manufacturing society had been preserved.

LORI-BERT

One of the interesting sites being excavated by the institute is the flagstone shield of the number 15 mausoleum in the ancient Lori-Bert mound-field in the Stepanavan region. 276

A great quantity of clay, mud, and bronze artifacts, as well as objects and tools made of bronze, and beads and bracelets made of Cornelian stone, silver and gold were discovered there.

Of a special significance are the preserved bones of a horse, which gives the impression of a complete skeleton. The clay-works are 3 to 4000 years old.

The lifestyle tools made of bronze, the caldron, the bucket, the hanger, the ax, the dagger, the bow, and the big pendant are about 3000 years old, that is to say, they belong to the old Bronze Age culture of Armenia.

Also very notable is the closeted bronze sculpture of a deer hunt with the help of tiger- cats, which also bears the stamp of the Bronze Age, (14-13th century BC), that is to say, it has a 3330-3400 year old history.

According to archaeologist S. Devedjian, some of the gold and silver ornaments discovered in the number 15 mausoleum in Lori-Bert correspond with artifacts from Ledgashen, while the others correspond with the ornaments of Kirovagan from the ancient Mid-Bronze Period.

ASBAREZ, Saturday, November 18, 1978

277

I am ONE of the Survivors of the TURKISH ATROCITES 1915

My feelings toward the most Estimable and First Pioneer Individual: Dr. Michael Hagopian, An Aintabtzi, Any noble person you meet inevitable says 'I am an Aintabtzi.'

In the days of the Hell of 1915, the terrifying fear of the vile Turk: "Mind and Body," when his Nation was in a state of destitute (and turmoil), he took care of patients for free, and helped people financially. A man who exerted beyond his capacity to save surviving Armenians -- and there was a cholera epidemic at that time. Additionally, he had me secretly buy 25-50 loaves of bread and to daily distribute them to the poor. My younger brother also was helped by this. The story is heart-rending. If it won't bore you, I'll recount it to you... He also used to give me money to bribe the Turkish guards to release Armenian men from jail. As soon as he'd hear that someone was in jail (he'd act), so that the person is released from jail as soon as possible...

Second to God. I feel duty-bound to ask you to stand up for one minute, in order to pay homage to such a Pioneer. With sorrow in my heart, let me tell you how I found my little brother.

278

Here's a photograph of the Doctor's family from those days, and similarly, my orphan brother's, and currently, a photograph of me and this pioneer's son, Michael Hagopian, who has taken the stance of his father.

Dream or Reality?

Comments regarding the Armenian Observer articles on Karabagh.

1. The Armenians of Armenia should be esteemed a thousand-fold. Shame on the American-Armenians if they won't follow Armenia...

Over here we have brave, good-hearted people. We have more opportunities here than the Armenians in Armenia...

2. Homework from a survivor to Richard Hovanessian: Take my eyes as (for) glasses and view with those eyes.

A man who suffered like a dog for six years. H. Chitjian

Unity, Struggle, Victory.

3. What Armenian's heart and conscience won't be touched when this accursed monster ... is "honored" in broad daylight.

Would that these martyrs would awaken and speak in my stead. 279

1. Wouldn't it be worthwhile to treasure this within your heart? a - Armenian prophet: Massis Araradian. b - I will sculpt this with "doof" rock to take to Sacramento so that the Governor's "roots" will be known.

2. I too have witnessed my best friend's head decomposing with one eye missing... Kevork Naroian!

3. I also painfully witnessed two mounds of Armenian bones in the Der Zor.

4. Were these martyrs were to awaken and speak for me!

5. "They placed a fez upon his head (---- Shultz), They hung a chain around his neck, And addressed him "Shultz Ogloo"!

May "Shultz Ogloo 'taste the Turkish' wrath!"

Six years in jail "Shultz Ogloo"!

6.What Armenian's heart and conscience won't be affected when this accursed monster is honored in broad daylight...

Isn't this shameful for us... Armenians? These stories should be placed in the chapter on "Experiences in Aleppo." Hampartzoum's final input... Ca. 1-7-03

One day I went to the stock exchange in Aleppo to play and try my luck. I met an acquaintance of my father's who told me: "Your father was a good man. I will help you." He took me to a fountain which was a shrine. People threw coins in the water as a gift to the saint hoping that their wishes would come true. A man was seated there on the ground with his finger towards his mouth, and he lived using these coins. The man seated on the ground repeatedly uttered to himself [in Turkish]: "Eighty in the evening, ninety in the morning." He seemed mentally lost. My father's acquaintance said that this man was the first man to play in the stock market, but that he lost all of his possessions in the process and became insane. He was showing me this so that I would learn a lesson and I would not play. I never forgot this scene.81 (A story

81 Henceforth, Hampartzoum never invested in the stock market. 280

Hampartzoum repeatedly recounted whenever people talked about investing in the stock market.) Khosrov Nalbandian, a schoolmate in Perri, was a contemporary of Kevork Yerevanian. He was a well known boy in the school. Later, he published a paper in Aleppo. This should be placed in the last section of the section on: "The Neighborhood." (Another custom): "Shakh Sheh, bakh sheh." During the Persian holiday, hitting their backs with a spiked sticks -- backs bled. Custom still used in 2010. Paravon Antaramian lived a few blocks in back of our house. I saw him after the massacres when I was with Korr Mamoe in Perri (in 1915-1916). The Antaramians were rich. They had a magnificent house. Their son was well known. He was tall and handsome.82 In Aleppo I came across Dikranouhi, the daughter of my teacher (from my school in Perri) Apraham Eokouzian. As we parted to find our own different ways, I gave Dikranouhi the address of my brothers in the United States. In turn, she told me about a girl from their family who was at that time in Beirut or Saida. She said that the girl is 13 or 14 years old and that she is beautiful and she asked me to correspond with her. Subsequently, she gave my address to the girl. The girl wrote me two letters, and I sent her $10.00. Later, she wrote to me that she married one of the Antaramians and was in the United States. I believe that she married Paravon in Beirut. When I went to New York and got together with other former residents of Perri, they told me that they knew about this girl. They told me that the girl was very beautiful but that she had died during childbirth in the United States.

YEAR OF MOURNING - 1915

1. Our father relinquished 4 brothers to the bad Turk and without turning back he disappeared for eternity... Affliction, yes.

2. We were 150-200 Armenian boys between 4-14 years old... To be "Turkified".

82 His great-great grandson has devoted his life to research our history; he spent a year in Armenia in 2010 and will spend a year in Turkey (2011). 281

3. First our names were changed: They named me Rooshdee, My twin brother, Rahsheed, My brother Kerop, Hamdee, My youngest brother, Naheem.

4. Then they taught us their religion: "Leh Eelah, hemdeellah, hawk dour Mehmed Rahzoul Ohllah..."83

5. Then they taught us their history: Yahshasehn Hurriyet, Adalat, Musafat, yahshasehn millet. Osmanlee eez, Kardashleek der;

Kahnahnehmeez Azerly; Beer Vahtahnah janlahrr ghurban; Osmanlee eez, Kardashleek der.84

8. Many, many times they would inquire if you still "maintained" an iota of "Armenian- ness" in you. Then they will insist for you to say your salavat. The Armenian salavat was first to cross yourself and repeat dear father and son... but at this point you had to scratch a cross on the ground. Now hear this, the Armenians' new salavat: Cross, cross, beloved cross, Lift your head and open your eyes. He is an Ottoman, he is strong, He has a strong fist, He strikes me and makes me defecate on you!

83 Mohammed is a saint and his teachings are correct. 84 Long live Freedom, Liberty, Fraternity; long live the people. We are Ottomans, we are brothers; our customs are ancient. We must devote our lives as a gift towards our country. We are Ottomans, we are brothers. 282

And with force they would insist that you defecate or pee.

Remember, remember and keep quiet, or else I would not be here today. Here you have un-united Armenian offspring, children of grief.

9. The Turks had a saying to demoralize (denigrate) Armenians by recounting the story where a Turk rapes the wife of a "helpless" husband...

Read this saying and then crumble.

10. Even though I was only 14 years old, I was able to comprehend Turkish.

a) As the gyavour's offspring matures, he is submerged in the earth; Gyavour oshagee beh u deekijeh, yehreh geernahrr; Hayoon zavageh medznalov kedeeneh ge mednah!

b) May the Armenians' final decision be mine. Gyavouren son ekhleh bende olsa deh; Gyavoureen vercheen khelkeh indzee ellar!

Even though that is correct, our disunity will always keep us subjugated.

An example from the past, from 1915-1917: Even though that's correct, even though it is very intolerable, it is a curse.

Remember and crumble... fall into pieces.

Look upon the facts of our present leaders and "admit" they are Armenian... - Deteriorating Armenians -- may you stand on your heads!

12. Perchance will this Catholicos' visit be "poisonous" or could the Armenian's mind awaken and unite and be virtuous? The Turk conquered us but he did not inquire what party or religion we belonged to; he just conquered us...

Why should we accept slavery, give our wives and offsprings away... You fill in the rest.

283

The protective God of the Jews performed miraculous works and will do more, because they have now become a very united nation.

After my father surrendered us to the Turk, we four brothers scattered here and there, left without a guardian. Meanwhile, they had taken my father and three sisters, and my stepmother, together with the others, to a place a few hours away called Ghazan Ravine (in Armenian Gatza Dzor), a large and deep gorge, where they were killed along with all the other Armenians. The only remnants were the girls who had surrendered to the lust of the Turks, like my sister Zaruhy, who had eventually reached Haleb after an arduous journey.

Before dying, she had recounted (to a neighbor from Perri) that a Turk had wanted to touch our step-mother, who was beautiful. But my father had attempted to protect her. The Turk swiftly killed him.

My sister Sultan, who was 16, had already drowned by throwing herself into the Perri River, in order to avoid becoming a Turk's slave and die a Christian.

My brother Nshan, 6 years old, had been thrown into the waters of Pertak, after they had slashed his belly. My brother Kerop, 9 years old, had become a servant in Pertak. My brother Kaspar was loved by his Effendi and thus passed his days relatively unscathed.

But I, perhaps because I was more sinful, lived through harrowing days. For 2 1/2 years I roamed from village to village, living a dog's, hoping to meet a compassionate person who at least would not threaten to kill me. My daily wage was permission to clean the leftovers from the dinner table, and by adding water to turn it into hot soup.85 We slept in the stables next to the animals. By turning their manure, the heat of the vapor kept us alive despite the harsh winter cold. As for our clothes, we took them off the bodies of dead soldiers and washed them.

It was like this everywhere.

85 Survivors like himself had the same exPerriences. 284

The Turks changed my name to Rushdie, but in order to intimidate me, they used to call me Gyavur Bokheh, "Infidel shit." In truth, it is not a good thing to repeat foul Turkish words, but I have been affected so much from those terrifying days, that we have to remember what we have said and done under coercion for the sake of saving our lives. We had no choice but to say both "There is no God but God, and Muhammad is His prophet," and another one about the Armenian religion, symbolized by the cross.

"Cross, Cross, beloved cross. Lift your head up, open your eyes. He is Ottoman, he is strong. He has a strong fist. He strikes me and makes me shit on you."86

Khach, khach, gurban khach. Bashen ghalder geuzin ach. Osmanli der, zorleh der. Topuzlari khalen dour. Vourdou bana, sechdem sana.

They used to make us draw a cross on the ground, and we had to say our salavat (recitation), because of which I am now here alive. Because of our ancestors' dis-unity, millions were martyred and upon thousands befell a fate like mine. One of the survivors who also uttered the above Salavat was saved and is alive! He is a Perchenchtzi.

Krikor Bedoian, 2114 Webster, Sanger, California, 93657 Tel: 209-875-2076

Please write to him, or go and see another burned-hearted Armenian servant of God.

86 Hagopig has a copy of these life-saving words. Whether you like it or not, this is the truth. 285

MY DAUGHTER'S GIFT TO MY FATHER

In the 1970s, the untimely death of our loved ones made a subdued impression upon our lives. This was another cruel misfortune we had to confront with. Just when all of us survivors had established ourselves in our respective countries and were ready to make the best of our lives and enjoy the company of relatives, "yergeeratzis," and (compatriotic) friends, one by one Ovsanna and I began to lose those who were personally dear to us. Now we were both thankful for our good health and content with what we had. At this point, that was all that mattered.

The highlight of our week were Saturday evenings spent with a few remaining friends with whom we were still able to share our mutual past joys and sorrows. They were now our sole connection with our Yergeer. Our evenings were spent with the traditional cup of Armenian coffee and the customary chorags and fruit after a lively game of scambill, a card game.

Our Sunday afternoons were shared with my dear son and his family. When Ovsanna prepared his favorite dishes, dolmah in particular, I had the chance to spend challenging afternoon playing tavlee with Mardig. These moments were soon to become cherished moments as well.

During this tranquil Period of our lives, God opened a very meaningful door for me. Unexpectedly, my daughter's classroom endeavors gave me the opportunity to have a whole new outlook. She was a teacher for the Los Angeles Unified School District. This unforeseen opportunity began to unfold when Zaruhy initiated a mini-class on Armenian Culture within her school's extra-curriculum program -- classes which were not included within the district curriculum.

286

These classes began in 1975 and for the following twenty years I became keenly observant of the various related activities she undertook in her classroom.

I was greatly appreciative whenever I had the opportunity to directly or indirectly participate in her classroom. As the years flew by, I was gradually becoming alarmed that our case would never be heard and that the perpetrators would not be brought to trial. Armenians and non-Armenians showed no interest to get involved with the injustices suffered by the Armenians, and that the perpetrators had not yet been brought to trial.

This unexpected opportunity gave me a new zest for living because the students assured me that there were individuals who were both interested in our cultural history and give credence in our efforts to have our case heard. I feel strongly when these youngsters become adults potentially they will have an open mind supportive of our case. This was the gift l was looking for to take to my father to assure him that we had not forgotten our obligations to our ancestors and to our martyrs.

The school principal, Betty Freeman, was kind enough to waive the general minimum requirements of fifteen students which allowed Zaruhy to teach about Armenian Culture in her mini-class, provided that the enrollment did not decrease in number.

From more than one thousand students, grades fourth to sixth (9 to 11 year olds), eleven students were curious enough to select the "Armenian Culture" class. The subject matter of their decision ranged from a long list of choices, such as: sports, cooking, literature, music, arts and crafts, and so on. This class took place the last hour of each Thursday for a six week session during the last two months of the school year. In 1975, not one student really knew who the Armenians were. This was at the tail end of the era when Armenians were asked about their ethnicity, invariably there was the follow-up question of, "What's that?"

On the first day of this class, Zaruhy didn't have a prepared lesson because she had no idea what her students were anticipating to learn or what would interest them. With only eleven students, she couldn't risk losing one single member of the class... otherwise, the class would fold!

After a warm and quizzical welcome, she instinctively wrote "Armenian Culture" on the board as the name of the class, and asked if anyone knew who the Armenians were. When no one answered, she wrote her name along with the surnames of two other Armenian teachers in the school. Fortunately, there also was one boy whose surname ended in 'ian'. This gave her another name to add to the list of names written on the board.

287

At that point, Zaruhy began her lesson. She asked the class what the four names all had in common. They all shouted out in unison, the 'ian' at the end of each name. Obviously that was the answer she wanted.

So now they had learned that this was one of the first ways to identify an Armenian. Already the little boy, whose name was one of the names written on the board, felt a little special. When he was asked what he knew about the Armenians, he wasn't able to share much. He knew his father was an Armenian and when he went to his father's house on the weekends, they often had shish kebob. And he liked that! Throughout this class the little boy felt special, especially when she wrote his name in Armenian on the black board (Lee). His enthusiasm sparked an interest in the class. After a brief overview of what they might cover in the next five weeks, she ended that class by promising them that the following week they would learn how to write their names in Armenian calligraphy. They were asked to bring their colored markers or crayons to class.

That night, Zaruhy shared her amazement that there were eleven students eager to learn about our culture. At once, I felt the angels in heaven were rejoicing. I still remember how proud and fortunate I felt. I immediately volunteered to help her because I knew she wasn't fluent in reading and writing in Armenian. The next day, without her knowledge, I began to write each of the eleven names on individual slips of paper with our precious Armenian letters. All of the names were foreign to my ears, but in this case that was okay. Even though I had not seen the students, I felt they were my students as well. I appreciated their willingness to learn about our culture and Yergeer.

During the week I lost no time and wrote a short poem about our precious alphabet and language for them. I hoped they too would have the same kind of fun and fond memories with these words as I had when I was their age learning English phrases in my school in Perri: Run mouse, run, the cat is going to get you.

HAI LEZOON

Khelatzeetune eh sorveetl oureesh meg lehzoo Parehgahmootune guh hasdahdvee Yerp khosees eer lehzoon Nahkhundrehlee eh ahrahcheenuh uhla Hai Lehzoon Vor lehtsoon eh Mesrobian Keerehrov Tiurin eh sorueel Hai Lehzoon.

The Armenian Language 288

It is wise to learn other languages, Friendships are made when you speak in their own tongue. Armenian is preferred to be the first language, Its many letters were formed by St. Mesrob., It is easy to learn Armenian.

The following Thursday evening, I was happy to hear that the students saw their names written in Armenian. Before allowing them to attempt to write their own names, Zaruhy shared a few illustrations of our manuscripts which gave them the opportunity to see the variety of ways each letter could be written and to embellish upon my script as they chose with their colored markers and crayons.

As they worked on their names, Zaruhy read a brief account about how an Armenian

Monk Mesrob Mashdots, had created the letters of the Armenian alphabet in the year 404 AD.

Towards the end of the hour she shared the poem I had written especially for them. I was greatly impressed and happy to learn the students appreciated my gesture and involvement as they attempted to verbalize their first words in Armenian.87

For the third week, the week before their Easter break, Zaruhy gave a brief lesson in geography using a map showing the territory of historical Armenia and Soviet Armenia. She continued to explain how and why Armenians colored eggs for Easter. She pointed out that this was a pagan custom that the Armenians maintained when they accepted Christianity to be their national religion in the year 301 AD, the first nation in history to do so.

Finally they too had the opportunity to color eggs the way Armenians have done for centuries. Each student placed a sprig of parsley on an egg and wrapped it tightly with a soft piece of cheese cloth. After the eggs were boiled in brown onion skins, each student unwrapped their own individual eggs; they were delighted with the unique designs that emerged on the reddish brown shell.88

The fourth week was the week of April 24. Zaruhy took the opportunity to give a brief overview of the meaning of Genocide and how my brothers and I were separated from my father and family. Then they viewed the film, "The Armenian Case," the twenty eight minute version

87 This lesson prompted some of the students to create a facsimile of their own "manuscript" in the style of the original! 88 An egg colored in 1975 exists in the Hampartzoum and Ovsanna Collection of artifacts: 2010. 289

of Dr. S. Michael Hagopian's film on the Armenian Genocide. Because I appeared in three small segments in the film, the children were now able to identify with me as a survivor of the genocide. Since I was only a couple of years older than they when I was viciously snatched away from my father by the barbaric Turks, the children were able to relate to this tragedy and to my pain. They began to ask more questions pertinent to my experiences and about the atrocities afflicted upon the Armenians by the Turkish government.

As I became aware of their interests, I developed a special bond with these students. They made me realize the importance of recording my personal experiences and feelings. Finally, I had discovered individuals who showed interest and wanted to know what happened to me during those six terrifying years.

What a gift my daughter had given to me! I shall always feel indebted to those precious students who had the intelligence and compassion to question how such outrageous governmental acts could go on without restitution and redress, especially from the American government -- from their own government!''

The children were bewildered; they had become aware of the contradiction of what they were being taught in their social studies classes. It is so obvious any innocent mind without hidden motives and political agendas could understand the injustice and crimes that were perpetrated on the Armenians as well as the injustice of the more recent deliberate denial of those crimes for political gain. Those innocent minds couldn't understand how such horrific acts had not been addressed. These astute students were no more than ten to twelve years old!

For the fifth week Zaruhy wanted to treat the students. Yet she wanted this to be a new and different experience for them. She introduced her students to yahlanchee (wrapped meatless grape leaves that are served cold). The night before Ovsanna prepared a delicious batch for Zaruhy to share with her students. In class, Zaruhy demonstrated how each one was wrapped in the palm of her hand and revealed that each leaf was a genuine grape leaf. While they looked on with curiosity, it took a while for them to get used to the novelty and unusual taste. Nevertheless, some took to it immediately.

However, cheese borrag was a hit at once. They all had fun folding the triangular forms of filo dough stuffed with cheese and baking them in the school cafeteria with their second and third piece!

That day ended with smiles and laughter as they left the classroom with a handful of brightly colored lablahbee, roasted and sugar-coated garbanzo beans. Before the last student left the classroom, Zaruhy herself had the surprise of her life. A little, blond Swiss student meekly

290

asked if she could invite her mother on the last day of the session, the sixth week. She wanted her mother to see all that we had learned.

With goose bumps on her arms, Zaruhy didn't hesitate to say yes. But she quickly added that she wanted the opportunity to invite her friends and the other parents who wanted to see what their children had learned in the "Armenian Culture" class in five weeks as well.

With that in mind, within the last two weeks of the school year (when the students were studying for their final tests), the students prepared a small program for parents and friends during their free time! They came in an hour before school, stayed in during recess, and an hour after school, knowing full well they were not getting credit or a grade for all their effort and time.

Learning a song or two and with a few more skits, a beautiful program was presented, including everything that was covered during the session. This was a shear act of love and joy.

All parents were invited: Mothers, fathers, relatives and friends. In addition to the non- Armenians, Zaruhy invited her Armenian friends and of course Ovsanna and me to witness what those eleven students had accomplished in six weeks. The school's auditorium was packed.

I was very surprised, impressed and overjoyed by this program, first of its kind, and especially how the students and their parents responded so favorably to a program solely devoted to our Armenian heritage. There were no more than six Armenian students enrolled in the whole school?

The skits and songs and dances were in Armenian. Their reports about historical events were in English. It was especially heartwarming to observe that the children's parents were impressed with this magical event as well!

The most heartwarming moment for me was when I finally was able to meet the eleven God-given children, to see and hear them perform, to hear them recite my poem that I had written for them, to be surprised at the end of the program when they dedicated this program to Ovsanna and me, and to feel the joy when they rushed towards me for hugs and kisses.

This is the gift I will share with my father - Armenian descendants will not forget, even in a foreign country. This is the gift my daughter, Zaruhy, gave to me. A gift I hold dearly in my heart.

At the end of the year, the fourth and fifth grade students requested that a similar class be held for the following year. Sure enough, thirty seven students all elected to learn about Armenian culture and history. That was when I finally sat down and started writing my 291

memoirs...little did I know then, that it would take another twenty five years to complete it. 89

During the second session (the following year), community members both Armenian and non-Armenians who had seen or heard about the program began to volunteer in a variety of ways. At the beginning of the new school year, three middle-aged women came one morning and gave a demonstration on carpet weaving. An ancient Armenian art and skill Armenians are well known for. The demonstration included how wool and cotton was carted and spun into yarn. Then they showed how the loom was strung and how the knots were tied creating a design by following a pattern. The demonstration was held for the four sixth grade classes in one large room. One hundred forty four students eagerly and inquisitively watched without a sound or disturbance as three grey-haired foreign speaking women demonstrated an ancient art!

The students were given the opportunity to experiment on their own. Immediately they suggested to use two chart racks as looms. They started to create their own designs. One was the Armenian flag and the other the American flag. The two flags were an on-going project throughout that year in their free time during the school day.90

During this second year in the mini class, desktop wooden models were made. These included the historical sites we had seen in Soviet Armenia in 1969. They included the fortress of Erebuni with the two sphinxes; the monument of Sardarabad, Etchmiadzin, the Temple of Garni which had just been erected recently and the two Genocide Monuments, the one in Armenia and the one in Montebello, California.91

The history of those sites was incorporated in that year-end program along with additional song and dance numbers. Again, there was a packed auditorium with Armenians and non-Armenians.

Starting with that program and for the next eighteen years, it became a tradition for the program to begin with the whole class singing "Yerevan, Erebuni" and concluding the programs with "Sardarabad." Their non-Armenian voices made the music sweeter to my ears as I followed their voices and heard the sweet melody of the Armenian words. Again the auditorium was packed with non-Armenians.

The sincere love and participation of the children assured me that when they grow up they will have fond memories of this unique experience. Hopefully they will be receptive to

89 From 1975 to 2002.

90 The two flags still exist on "their racks" in the Chitjian Collection of artifacts 91 The sphinxes were molded by a parent attending a night class in ceramics! There was a keen interest in the class by the parents as well! Most of the parents were professionals, a great number being in the media field. 292

support our cause. I am sure many of the students will achieve influential positions in their chosen careers as adults. Let's hope some of them will follow the course Bob and Elizabeth Dole have taken for us.

The third year followed with the same popularity with more than forty students participating in this mini elective. That year's program had a segment presented especially in my honor. The children enacted a traditional custom observed solely by Armenians worldwide. That is the celebration of the Day of Ascension, "Hampartzman Orr." This always falls on the fortieth day after Easter Sunday and it is always on a Thursday. This is my name day, Hampartzoum, the day I observe my birthday.

Traditionally on this day, the young village maidens came together on the hillside where the flowers are all in bloom. Each maiden gathers colorful flowers and makes a garland for her head.

Then they sing, dance and rejoice that Spring has Arrived, since they have just recovered from a harsh winter.

The evening before, the maidens gathered petals from seven different flowers and placed them in a vessel of water from seven different springs, as well as a personal trinket. The vessel was set under the light of the stars and the moon. And it was believed that during the night nature's children came down and bestowed their charm and individual prophecies for each maiden. As the stars came down to earth, the flowers and trees began to speak with each other, giving each their secrets. In turn, each one relates a remedy for an existing wish. On the following morning, the maidens dance and sing around the vessel: "Hampartzoum yay la, yay la jan, yay 1a..." Shortly after, a younger child between the ages of three to five years old dressed in white, like a bride, plucks a trinket one by one from the vessel. As each maiden's trinket is picked, a poem relating her fortune is read. Each girl waits anxiously to hear what her fortune would be for that year. Would this be the year she will be betrothed and get whatever else she might be hoping for? The day continues with laughter and tears as each girl has her fortune read.

At the end of that program, two handsome boys approached me with candles and gave me a big hug. This was the first time I celebrated my name day with this personal celebration and joy. I was seventy six years old that year.

When I heard this group also recite the poem I had written for them, I knew my father's soul was rejoicing as much as mine, as those odar children voluntarily continued to embrace our

293

language, history and customs. Each program included a significant event of our history -- depending on who helped her that year.92

With each program Zaruhy took me to heaven and back. We were always very grateful to them (students and parents).

A Request Greatly Appreciated

Coincidentally, the following year, the school district required all teachers to enroll in an ethnic studies class. Because her mini class was so well received by the students, as well as their parents, a couple of the Dixie Canyon teachers convinced Zaruhy to present an Armenian ethnic class to meet that requirement for teachers at their school. It was easier for the teachers to remain at their own school rather than to travel elsewhere after a hard day in the classroom93!

Zaruhy appreciated and accepted this unique opportunity. But she had not anticipated the strong opposition taken by the district office. She tried a variety of suggestions to convince the district to allow the requested Armenian ethnic class. None was accepted until in desperation she came up with the concept to compare Armenian history with that of the American Indian, an ethnicity that was on the approval list for ethnic studies. She pointed out the similarity between the two groups that were both brutally driven off of their ancestral homelands where they had lived for thousands of years with the expectation that neither group would survive. But as history has, proven, both groups had the tenacity and will to survive with great hardship despite their predator.

The district's attitude and denial was difficult for Zaruhy to understand because at this time hundreds of Armenian refugees from Beirut and Soviet Armenia were enrolling in the Los Angeles public schools. They were already establishing a pattern of problems unique to their culture and there was no one prepared to address their needs.

However, with much reluctance, for the first time an official number was finally established allowing Zaruhy to present a class in the "Ethics Studies Program" for the district at large. The class was for only eight weeks, and each session was three hours long after school. The attending teachers received district credit for this requirement. The district's given title of the class listed in the brochure was "The Meaning of Minority: Our Armenian Heritage in Comparison with the American Indian Heritage."

92 This skit was taught by Noemi Minassian, a student's grandparent. 93 At the end of this program, the children collected $60.00 in donations to help the Armenian children caught in the civil war in Lebanon. I doubled their donation. With the name of the school a check for $250 was sent as a friendly gesture from one country to another. 294

At this point Zaruhy had the good fortunate to have the gracious acceptance from the most prominent educators and professionals in Los Angeles to participate in the class as guest speakers using their field of expertise. Even though most of them were not personally familiar with Zaruhy or me they without hesitation accepted her request graciously.

Zaruhy was hoping the district's requirement of a minimum of fifteen members was met so that the class would not fold. To everyone's surprise, from the first day she had fifty four teachers enrolled in the class. That became the highest number for teacher workshop classes in the whole district at that time.94 There were a handful of Armenian teachers, the rest were all non-Armenian teachers from the surrounding schools and her home school Dixie Canyon. Most admitted they knew very little about Armenians and even a few said until now they had never met one.

Amazingly, from the very first session to the last, the teachers were riveted by the speaker of the day. On the last day of the course, the most rewarding comments the teachers expressed were what a rich and extraordinary cultural heritage we had and how unfortunate it was that so little was generally known about it.

The teachers were equally touched how every Armenian in the class, including the speakers, were so proud of their ancestral and historical achievements and how emotionally involved they were about what took place during 1915-1921, and the subsequent international indifference and involvement for redress. Much like the younger students, the non-Armenian teachers were able to empathize with our emotions and concerns.

But what impressed Zaruhy the most was when they requested a Part II of the same class with sixteen sessions instead of eight. You could imagine how sincere they were since they already had met the district's requirements with one class. Now the same teachers elected to come an additional sixteen weeks for three hours a session after a hard, tiring day in their own classrooms! That request could have reflected only their sincere desire to learn more about a people they knew so little about...

This time the district did not hesitate to follow through with a Part II class that was listed solely as "Armenian Culture and Heritage Part II" in the brochure. Fortunately, again the same participants agreed to present additional material just as gripping as in Part I, along with new volunteers who were just as delighted that the educators in the public schools were finally interested to learn about who we are as a people.

By the end of Part l, Dr. Armen Sarafian, president of La Verne College, had offered three units of college credit for those teachers who needed the college credit. Also, several

94 Zaruhy was highly commended for the popularity of the class by the District Office. 295

schools in the Hollywood area were requesting a Part I class to be taught at their schools for their teachers. By now the teachers in this area were experiencing the need for those classes. Most of them knew very little about the background of this new immigrant influx from Lebanon and Soviet Armenian. Perhaps if they had been better informed earlier, some of the problems they were confronted with would not have emerged with the Armenian students.

The list of participants ran from Professor Avedis Sanjian, Dr. Michael J. Hagopian, Dr. Richard Hovannisian, Jirair Libaridian, Osheen Keshishian, Gia Aivazian, Edward Hosharian, Lucy Agbabian-Hubbard, Hrant Agbabian, Levon Marashlian, George Kooshian, Armine Sukiasan to marilyn Arshagouni!

Without the time and effort of those participants, the course would not have been the success it was. We are fortunate the introduction of our Armenian history and culture was initiated with our best in the Los Angeles Unified School District. For once our professionals and educators worked together in unison for our cause. There was nothing more exhilarating and satisfying than seeing them work with this spirit. It meant a great deal to me that the participants represented every faction of the Armenian community. That was a real success!

It was enlightening to know there were people who were interested. I had always held on to my feelings and belief that it was imperative that the world should know and understand what had happened to us and were concerned to redress the situation.95

It was not just the pain we endured collectively, it was just as important for people to realize the barbaric, vicious acts that were perpetrated on innocent citizens in a subjugated country. We already lived as subjects under a tyrannical government. As much as I can remember, we lived our lives with fear in Perri. I never understood what provoked the bestial instincts of the Turk and equally painful for the rest of my life, I can't understand the indifference or outright denial of the injustices we suffered on our homeland, our motherland where our basic essence was born. It was our sun, our air, our water, our earth. That is what we have lost forever! And this means we have really lost the core of our essence forever.

Every one of God's given creatures flourish best on the soil where it was created. We understand how cruel it is to remove animals away from their natural habitat and put them in zoos. We know flowers do not flourish when transplanted from their natural soil, air, water, and sun. Why is it so hard to realize and accept what we Armenians are yearning for when we yearn for our Yergeer? We have become an uprooted people and that is a crime and a pity. We can never be the same again. My heart and soul will never be at peace until the pain of this injustice and loss is understood!

95 It was during these years that I felt the incentive to write my memoirs and express my feedings! 296

Our soil is different Our water is different Our sun is different Our Yergeer is different It is ours!

My dear reader, I hope you can understand why I appreciate those teachers, those students and their parents.

Lost Opportunities

Armenians know the spoils of the "White Charrt." That is why they are so adamant about maintaining their ancestral traditions. In a free society they should not be forced to assimilate. That was the tactic the Turks used. Only the conditions and customs here are more subtle.

A good Armenian could make excellent progress as an Armenian and be a productive and law abiding American citizen or of any country in the world at the same time. The salad bowl concept is a more prudent concept versus the melting pot concept.

Simultaneously, as all of those activities were going on, Zaruhy realized the need for Armenian teachers to organize to develop the necessary programs and materials to address the existing issues and the emerging problems... to promote that interest in all of the schools!

Awareness of our Armenian culture and history was not enough in the public schools anymore. Significant educational needs were emerging in great numbers by the flood of the incoming students. They were having a very difficult time trying to adjust in a new and different system both with the problems they confronted in their schools along with the problems they brought with them.

Zaruhy founded the "Armenian Educators Association" with the sole objective to serve all of those needs. She collected a hundred or more active Armenian teachers in Los Angeles and surrounding cities. Thirty Armenian teachers joined. But only a handful became active. Even with that, a short while after its inception, the main objectives of the organization were diverted by other personal priorities. The main objective of the organization was totally lost.

Unfortunately this, as well as the Armenian Urban Center, never had a chance to achieve their prime objectives for the same reasons.

297

As Zaruhy realized there were many Armenian teachers not only in Los Angeles, but throughout the country. She started by corresponding with teachers in Watertown, Massachusetts where the school district was actively developing programs for a fraction of the number of Armenian students in their district. The administration in Los Angeles was not. And unfortunately, it was actively dodging the development of such a program.

During the time she was still at Dixie Canyon, she discovered that the director of the Hispanic Urban Center in the Los Angeles school district was Dr. Vahaken Mardirosian. He was the only Armenian in a high administrative position in the district. The name sounded familiar to me. If he were from Mexico, I would have known his father or him. Within a few days, Zaruhy went to see if he would be helpful in any way to establish a better program for the Armenian students within the public school's curriculum. Immediately, a warm relationship between the two was established. They were two Armenians born in Mexico, both the offspring of survivors of the vicious Genocide, both working for the Los Angeles Unified School District, both wanting to help the Armenian students in the school district.

From a very early age, after the death of his mother, Vahaken was raised by Mexican women while his father worked to support the family. He had an equal bond with both communities. Much like Gabriel Babayan, his heart and soul was Armenian and unlike Babayan he still had command of the Armenian language.

To our great advantage he was very close to the Superintendent of the district.96 Without wasting time, Dr. Mardirosian's lawyer drew up the necessary papers similar to the Hispanic Urban Center. Within a month or so the Armenian Urban Center was established, a non-profit organization which was entitled to receive a grant for a quarter of a million dollars annually.

At first this endeavor seemed like it would succeed. Uniform material with teacher editions targeting the specific needs of the new immigrant Armenian students was the first objective.

But from the very beginning those who became most actively involved were again concerned with other priorities other than what the objectives in the grant approved. At this point Zaruhy decided to transfer over to the Hollywood area where by now the majority of refugees were pouring in from Soviet Armenia, and where the students were having the most problems.

A Full Day

96 Dr. Handler. 298

Before Zaruhy left Dixie Canyon, she surprised us again with a full day of activities. That was the first time I realized how much of an impact my saga of excruciating years during my youth had made upon her mind and soul. Unconsciously, she too became a victim by being confronted day in and day out with my scars and pains. "This prompted her to devote her time and effort to attempt to appease my pain with those significant endeavors, rather than wiping away my tears with a handkerchief and soothing words."

On the morning of April 24, 1978 she took me to her school (Dixie Canyon) for a short program on the school yard where the whole student body stood in lines with their respective teachers, in observance of the Genocide. Standing amidst a crowd of young children between the ages of six, nine and thirteen and hearing reports about what the vicious Turk had done to the Armenians was stirring my emotions, joy and pain mixed together. I looked upon their faces and empathized with the happy and carefree feelings they projected. I knew the exact feelings. There is something about a school setting that grips my soul even to this very day.97

Unfortunately, the joy and serenity of my most cherished school days with my classmates were mixed with the unbearable, unforgettable impact of standing in front of the Turkish school watching my father walking away without saying a word, without one final hug, walking further and further away from us, leaving us all alone forever.

Then suddenly hearing the words of one of the last patriotic songs we sang in school, the words and the voices of those young odar children spun my emotions into turmoil. Did anyone understand how I felt at that moment? Did anyone notice how my legs trembled? What tricks the mind could play on the body and soul. Akh, akh, to have lived through this tragedy, and now to remember it so many years later. This is not easy. But my mind won't stop -- it won't let go.

Suddenly I heard their sweet voices...

Mer Hairenik tishvarr ander Mer tushnamyaz vodnagokh Eur vortvoez Sourp arieunov Beedee leenee azadvadz!

"Our ancestral homeland, painfully left alone without help. Our enemy has treated us brutally under its bondage With her sons' sanctified shed blood We will be freed!"

97 Did they realize these were the best year of their lives? Oh how I yearned for my school days. Where did that life go? Akh... Remembering is painful! 299

My soul was back in Perri in my cherished classroom, singing with the same enthusiasm with my beloved classmates and teachers. Then I heard my father's voice as he sang woefully pounding down with his garabagh.

Lyre resonate your tunes for the entire world to hear About the unfortunate Armenians' mortal sorrows; Groan as you cry...with so much bloodshed, so much evil and so much devastation If our descendants should forget Let the whole world disgrace the Armenians.

That brought me back to my father. Suddenly I recalled the time when my father returned from jail, his clothing splattered with dried blood. Without speaking he walked his four sons to the Moslem school where they would be forced to convert to spare their lives. What were his feelings when he turned around and left without sparing one word? He walked away from us and returned home to gather his wife, sisters and daughters to join the other neighbors who disappeared in the valleys and ravines on foot...

Those innocent and abandoned corpses demand reprisal from us. If we are silent and forget all that we have suffered and lost, then they too will damn us. We have to strive with whatever is in our power to inform and enlighten our children and grandchildren and their grandchildren. Where ever they might be in this world, they must all know what really happened on our very own motherland. The remains of one and a half million innocent martyrs are still under the feet of the enemy, Turk. They still lie there unprotected waiting for us to bring justice and restitution.

I was engulfed in an emotional impact -- their faces reflected a zest for life. Standing among these students, I felt it was God's way of telling me to cling on to my hopes and goals. We have no other choice. It is these bittersweet memories that nourish me to live on.

This whole day was spent with many fulfilling hours. From Dixie Canyon we went directly to UCLA and joined hundreds of college students, Armenian and non-Armenian students who were protesting a course taught by Professor Shaw who denies the Armenian Genocide. It was a real satisfaction to know that the Armenians, in due time, won their case against the professor and he was dismissed from the university. "

From there we went to Hollywood where there was another gathering of Armenian men, women and children walking down the middle of Santa Monica Boulevard.

300

The combination of those events awakened me to feel more obligated to write about my experiences of a dog's life for six years witnessing a variety of the most inhumane atrocities perpetuated on mankind. Was this the beginning? Had the Armenian offspring awaken to their obligation?

If I were given all of the wealth in the world, I would not have exchanged it with any of these experiences. From 1975-1994 I was taken to heaven and back every time I attended one of my daughter's programs. They gave me hope. Perhaps with this young, new blood our case will be heard. We should never lose sight of restitution of that which is rightfully ours. God has left one door open for me so I can't complain.

It's Not Their Fault, They Don't Know

Zaruhy now kept her focus solely on her classroom. Her yearly programs continued to delight non-Armenians as well as the Armenians. Her audiences this time in addition to the Armenians were mainly Hispanic and Asian immigrant students. During her first year at Ramona, I volunteered to translate office notices that were sent home to the Armenian parents. I also made a point to attend class one day during the week of April 24 to reveal my experiences during the Genocide. I was now in my eighties. Ovsanna and I had difficulty climbing the two flights of stairs to her classroom. During these sessions it saddened me to realize the Armenian children were not informed of our tragic past. This was very disturbing to me. Had they forgotten so quickly? They had no idea what their obligation was regarding holding on to our legacy, to continue our quest for redress and restitution. This lack of knowledge and interest was not their fault. How were they to know if they were not taught? Each year I was affected by my interaction with the students. On one hand, I saw the difficulties Armenian parents and teachers confronted. But on the other hand, I realized if handled properly, in some number our Armenian youth is committed to assume the task bestowed upon their souls and shoulders by their forefathers.

In eighty six years I have realized how quickly our whole past could be completely forgotten within a couple of generations -- if a definite effort is not made to keep it alive. Thus it is imperative that parents, teachers, Armenian schools, professionals and community leaders assume the responsibility to educate and instill upon our youth not only to seek restitution and justice for out Armenian case, but also, to instill within their souls the glorious history, culture, traditions, of their ethnicity. It is never too late to address man's inhumanity to man.

Determined, I forced myself to continue to unfold the layers of nightmares preserved in my mind for eighty six years -- six years of excruciating pain -- a pain that never subsides.

301

It all began with the poignant fear I experienced when my father ran to hide in the Kurdish village when there was "no cause" for him to run away and hide. That fear and confusion escalated when he returned home after he was beaten senseless in jail -- I saw him covered with blood from head to toe, beaten to a pulp! He was not guilty of any crime.

God gave me a way to cope with those painful memories. Each and every horrific experience was tucked away layer by layer much like cabbage leaves, pressed tightly against each other. That was the only way I had the will to face the day at hand. Each and every new day presented itself with a new and different terrifying experience. Each and every evening I had to convince myself I had the strength to survive, and I had to discover the means upon waking. Every morning I expressed it was a "miracle" that I was alive for yet another day!

Much like a bank vault, my mind guarded each and every horrific experience from the time my father walked away from us on the doorsteps of the Turkish school to the moment I set foot on Persian soil when I knew I was free from the Turk's vicious claws. And now eighty six years later, I feel compelled to bring up those old wounds and pains.

Even though I am only one voice, side by side, we will be heard with a flood of voices. I had finally found innocent minds, Armenian and non-Armenian to show legitimate concern about the injustice that was inflicted upon us.

April24, 1994 was the last year I attended Zaruhy's classroom and her students. That was the year she retired. But as God willed I was left with 'encouragement and a surprise from Heaven. Early in the morning, I discovered a young inquisitive student named Kaspar. Immediately, my twin brother came to my mind. Miraculously at the same time another handsome student snuggled against my other side, his name was Hampartzoum, "Hampig" for short. My mind twirled with happiness as I clung on to them. One on each side, they gave me strength to continue on with my painful saga for that day. Instinctively, they understood the wounds and anguish in my heart -- this, I hope, they will never forget. Was this a sign from God reassuring me what Kaspar and my experiences would never be forgotten?

When I returned home from school, I wrote my last letter to the class where I customarily thanked them by expressing my appreciation for listening to my tribulations and for their assurance that they will never forget their oath.

To my dear sweet grandchildren, and to all those who follow,

I have described tragic and sad experiences I suffered during the brutal days under the vicious Ottoman Empire. I have to do this so that this tragedy will never be forgotten. This responsibility will soon be yours. 302

You are going to be the protectors of our future. Instill within yourselves the suffering that the survivors from Hell endured, much like myself. This is what we beseech from you.

Always keep within yourself the opportunity to alert and inform those who have assimilated and drifted away from our cause.

Work together to work and cooperate among yourselves. This is the most important stand you can take. You must realize much of what happened to us was prompted by the disunity among our politicians and clergy.

As April 24 approaches, newspapers are filled with ink but there is no real substance to what has been written about the Armenian Genocide.

You, my dear children, you be the instigators and establish unity among your peers and make a change in our destiny.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

"Today I went to Ramona School. My precious daughter was the teacher. She has taught her students about Armenian history and life. The twinkle in their eyes and the sweet smiles from the students gave me encouragement.

From their inquires and their desire to learn more, I knew they were proficient listeners and they understood exactly what I had to relate about the brutal acts of violence perpetrated on the Armenians in Kharpert.

We embraced each other with love and hugs. They had a good understanding of what I had suffered and all that the Armenians had lost.

They understood the need for our fight to continue until we get restitution."

Hampartzoum Chitjian

303

SACRED NATIONAL DUTY By Vahan Shamlian

Throughout the course of my life, I have followed national activities, and have witnessed that the three national political parties want to be of help to the nation.

Being helpful must move up from being just a plan into becoming a supreme purpose, so that they assist Mother Armenia together, with peaceful activities, and show cooperation to their beloved nation.

During the past 50 years, our political parties, instead of acting as one heart and one soul, and adopting a positive course for the glory of the Armenian People, each political party wished to secure selfish fame.

What is our purpose? Why don't they approach the problems sincerely in order to serve the nation, the people? And even the American President says: "I am a public servant," whilst our leaders act like princes of yore or dictators.

Let's take the latest example.

The 3 political parties, the Benevolent Union, and 4 other honorable organizations, and the two prelates, formed a United Body, but instead of receiving checks in the name of the United Fund, each is doing its own fundraising...

Why wasn't it possible to quickly have the same certificate printed and appeal to the people? I am convinced that people would have contributed more abundantly.

We have press, radio and television and through them our message would have reached the people quickly.

304

The joint announcement by the Save Armenia Fund was very late and was only printed in Asbarez on February 8. Again, it does not state how checks are to be made out, but instead it merely states: "Save Armenia, 589 No, Larchmont, Hollywood, Ca, 90004."

To bring out an announcement with beautiful words, and for each organization to collect checks in its own name cannot create the necessary results and enthusiasm -- it's impossible.

We are surprised; we are very surprised why each organization thinks that they are the owners of this nation, which, at this stage in its history is passing through its most prosperous phase materially -- with intellectuals, professors and business owners.

What is the reason?

In our opinion, the time has come to put aside our differences, and form a unified body to include political party members, anti-party individuals, intellectuals, lawyers and businessmen, without forgetting the clergy, and show one front, one purpose: the supreme benefit of the Armenians -- which is superior to all factions.

If this exclusivity would continue to dominate, it is probable that very soon the Armenian People would lose their faith in their political parties. Let us be realistic. Let us not mistake politeness with agreeing.

Isn't the purpose of the creation of Armenian political parties to help the nation..? They have formulated their preferred philosophy and serve the nation according to it; they should not serve as the slaves of their political parties.

Take into consideration Eastern Europe. What happened to it? And what happened to Moscow? When a political party gets involved with all issues, even when church, school, and cultural organizations don't lag behind, they still would not register the requisite improvement.

Everyday needed or uncalled for allegations and complaints are never lacking. People have called me personally and the public is saying that what they're giving is not fulfilling its purpose 100%.

When there is a fundraiser, it is imperative that an accounting be given to the public like that from a CPA or an audit report and not just a ferman-like proclamation.

We must listen to the heartbeat of this honorable nation and measure its pulse.

We call on our people to become cognizant of the fact that if not for them the political parties would not exist. 305

Therefore it must be demanded of the leaders, nay, they must be coerced to do their best.

In order to have good leaders, dear people, be careful in your choice of leaders. We must put aside our old, weak and nepotistic custom of choosing our leaders.

If henceforth our people are not able to impose their sincere will, in our opinion, they won't have the right to criticize their leaders who have come into public life through frivolous elections or through no elections at all.

Currently, we are witnessing the transformation of international life, which is improving the fate of the world. Why shouldn't we garner benefits from these circumstances ourselves?

Our second to last word is addressed to the three political parties and other organizations that each one of them must conscientiously provide the best human elements so that the people would have faith in them.

Mediocrities and people of suspicious character must not be allowed to take leadership positions, otherwise the cemetery for the people is two steps away.

If we do not welcome the 21st century with a national body or organization, if we do not put our brains into use, if we do not endow ourselves with pure and highly conscious individuals, our future will very soon be framed with black ribbons, or else we shall slumber on in a state of semi-ruin.

Let us put an end to selfishness; lets us wake up; let us truly unite and come to our senses for the sake of the eternal survival of the Armenians Nation.

V. Sh.

FROM THE EDITOR OF NOR GYANK: Dear Readers, we're hopeful that you read with interest our national philanthropist's writing.

We find it fitting to make a few affirmations:

A. People are gravely mistaken when they think that philanthropists must only give money and should not write for the people.

B. We are in America and in this country philanthropists often come out with articles, when they have SOMETHING TO SAY, like Vahan Shamlian in this article. 306

C. We wish to make the following testimony for our old friend and neighbor:

Vahan, at the age of 17, was the supervisor of the A.Y.F.'s Taniel Varoujan Youth Group for Karantina and Mar Mikhayel, while at 21 he was the Secretary of the local Dickran Dzamhoor Committee. With his humble salary he was an educated and liberal minded young man, who not only debated but battled against the Secretary of the Central Committee whenever he saw arbitrariness, (Vahan did not join the cadres in America but remains a Tashnagtzagan), but above all else, he is an Armenian.

Vahan respected the opinions of others. He never once said to me: "Come, let's get you into the youth group."

The community in Lebanon started to turn prosperous, and our organizations became well-established mostly due to the participation of intellectuals, philanthropists and business owners in those organizations. Those true Armenians, who had succeeded in life, dedicated their treasure and experiences to the service of the nation.

The same must be the norm in this community and other communities, and very soon.

NOTES IN THE MARGINS BY HAMPARTZOUM CHITJIAN

My appreciation of this noble-hearted individual

Although this son of the rays of the sun is not my twin brother, he is however, according to my feeling and my view, a piece of my heart...

Remembering the black days of 1915, I search for an individual who builds unity. I wish this individual would be that pioneer. The stance he has taken and his works have to be appreciated. He has dedicated his youth and willpower to the holy of holies: Unity. May more people like him sprout forth.

At the age of 89, my wish is that God would grant a healthy, long, and happy life, patience, hopefulness, and be a consoler to the survivors.

My Dear Vahan who captured my heart, 307

I visited your school for half an hour. My stormy memories compelled me to leave early. Please ask me "why?" What images affected me emotionally..? You have not been a member of the cadres in America... But you remained a Tashnag. Independent of you, I am certain, I too, from 1932-43, even though I was inundated with work, I still remained attached to my beloved political party. When those who muddied the fountainhead and brought cleavages to the nation, and when even the clergy, without conscientiousness, pushed the division forward, they thus empowered the White Massacre. They hurled upon us the wrathful fire of God...

If Vahan succeeds in calming down those who muddy the fountainhead, I'm ready to pay off the remaining taxes, including the past due interest, and accept the punishment whatever it may be.

I wish I could see it before I close my eyes forever.

If I succeed, it would be a great present for my father and all the martyrs. May I pay my debt then close my eyes.

Asbarez August 24, 83

IN LEBANON MEMBERS OF THE LISBON COMMANDOS ARE CONSIDERED HEROS

-- "Even if I had known, I would have kissed his forehead and said: 'May God bless you, my son.'" 308

-- "I would not object if my other sons follow Setrag's example."

Look at his fist and read his heart. He is full of the wrathful fire of the heart.

I wish I were a hair that grew on the heads of these people.

Vatche's father says he is wholeheartedly proud of Vatche.

Mr. and Mrs. Ajemian with a nation-loving heart say: "We won't say no to our other offsprings either." And Hampig Chitjian says: "I wish I was born a twin with them."

Mr. and Mrs. Hampartzoum and Ovsanna Chitjian appreciate.

The Armenians of Armenia should be esteemed a thousand-fold. Shame on the American-Armenians if they won't follow Armenia...

309

Over here we have brave, good-hearted people. We have more opportunities here than the Armenians in Armenia...

Homework from a survivor to Richard Hovanessian: Take my eyes as (for) glasses and view with those eyes.

What Armenian's heart and conscience won't be touched when this accursed monster ... is "honored" in broad daylight.

Philanthropic heart. With courageous heart.

When the opportunity presents itself, not only would I help materially but would also give my life like pioneer Yanikian. Try me, young leader, and make your work succeed. May God be with you.

What compels me are the letters my honorable father, my piece of heart twin brother and I wrote from hell. 1914... 1915, February 25, my father's last writing. 598 So. Indiana, Los Angeles. The house is still there. Also my Turkish letters (written) during six years. If God reads them He too would cry.

What is the worth of living with the wrathful fire given by God but to close my eyes without revenge?

I remember that my father came out of jail and surrendered us four brothers to the vile Turks, those monsters, and without looking back he disappeared. They threw my six year old brother into the Euphrates River, and also my 16 year old sister threw herself to escape the clutches of the Turks.

Remember, remember and rage.

My Father's song: "If our children forget such immense atrocities, Let the whole world hurl scorn at the dis-united Armenians leaders."

Hampartzoum Chitjian

310

SUCH IMMENSE ATROCITIES HAVE NOT BEEN FORGOTTEN BY YOUR OFFSPRINGS,

PAYING THE PRICE OF DEATH WE SHALL BUILD THE FATHERLAND.

Wish I was a hair on the head of his father.

Hampig Chitjian

When I die, I am going to take a present that fits the wishes of my father's heart.

May God multiply rays of the sun offsprings, so that they fulfill the revenge of the misfortunate Armenians.

1915-21. One who survived hell wholeheartedly appreciates the self-sacrificing Armenian sons. May God be with you always.

311

ACT OF JUSTICE

Man's jealousy to grab treasures and glory is ample. My jealousy, however, is to be a hair to grow over the head of this young man's father, and to be a sacrifice for the soul of these vengeance-seeking youths. The wishes of the person with the white hair, here, is one and the same -- perhaps a little more strongly.

My only desire is for us to open our mouths with prayer so that God saves those who are in jail. They are not guilty. It's true, it's true, it's true. Let each one of us see the bodies of the martyrs strewn all over the mountains, valleys, and rivers -- the long, delicate hairs of Armenian girls wrapped around the trees by the river.

Oh, how I wish that each one of us would remember that in 1915 we were the tender offsprings of those who were martyred. The only thing they demand of us is not to forget and not to become hopeless regarding feelings of vengeance however we can achieve it.

My wish is that the old folks' home in Los Angeles would serve as an example to be the first Armenian old folks' home in the world, where each individual with a few pennies and a short piece of writing -- a few words expressing pangs of consciousness -- especially their signature signed with their delicate hands, will bear witness in front of other nations that it is true that the manslaughter took place, that the Turks are lying and that the great nation of America is believing them. Your few pennies and your signature would be priceless. When you close your eyes forever, (your gesture) will, like the light of a burning fire, forever remain in the hearts of your nation's future generations. And the time will come when other Hampigs and other proud Armenian "ians" will exact your revenge.

312

Remember the courageous Soghomon Tehlirian.98 He slaughtered one dog, but a big one, in order to exact revenge on behalf of the Armenian nation.

This Kourken Yanikian slaughtered two dogs. If you weigh them together they (Tehlirian and Yanikian) would be individuals of equivalent value.

The whole Armenian nation should unite in order to save him (Yanikian) so that this opens the door for future revenge seeking youth. Also, remember the old, grey haired individuals who are full of sorrow. Remember all the unburied bodies strewn all over the territory of Western Armenia. If you haven't seen it, read their stories and listen to what they say -- it is the truth and not just opinion.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

98 Soghomon Tehlirian assassinated Talaat Pasha in Berlin in 1921. Talaat was the Interior Minister of Turkey who gave the orders for the wholesale slaughter of the Armenian people. 313

At your tender young age (you lived) the life of an Armenian exile.

Buried in thoughts, with the wrathful fire that God meted out, from breakfast to dinner, what you are eating is it bread or pus?

I wish that this writing and these signatures would be published by the new newspaper or the other ones.

314

Friday, September 12, 1980

KOURKEN YANIKIAN MUST BE SET FREE

It's been seven years that Kourken Megerdich Yanikian has been imprisoned in the Chino jail. The terrorist act that took place on January 27, 1973 is considered a simple murder by the American justice system. We have no objections at all regarding this designation.

Yanikian's conduct in jail was exemplary. Last year, the verdict of life imprisonment was reviewed by the parole board which decided to set free the 85 year old man, whose life in prison had been one of reading, writing and keeping in touch with the press.

We are dealing with a man who is a long way away from being a common murderer. Yanikian is a man who deeply believes in his own unique ideology. He had come to a decision and conclusion on his own and had declared war against Turkish diplomacy and had decided that those who served Turkish diplomacy were to be his targets.

This is how we understand Yanikian's act which does not stop being a simple murder. However, seven years after his sentence, Yanikian still remains, like the title of an editorial in Nor Or (February 2, 1973): "The new victim of the Old Genocide."

Yanikian is also the latest victim of Turkish diplomacy. The country that has presented stern warnings against his release, the Republic of Turkey, is trying to make the parole board

315

believe that Yanikian is a very dangerous murderer and his release would be an encouragement for more murders in the future.

Turkish diplomacy and the Turkish Press have not forgotten the shock they experienced in 1973. Terjuman, Milliyet and other Turkish papers don't miss any opportunity to remember that an Armenian murderer is paying for his sins in an American jail for murdering two Turkish diplomats. That's their opinion. We, however, demand of the parole board to implement its decision of 1979 literally. We demand that basic human rights not be trampled upon in this country because of the obstructionism of the silent accomplices of the genocide.

The American Civil Liberties Union, state senators and assemblymen, the California judiciary, and the management of the prison have been informed of the demands presented by a group of Armenians dedicated to the release of Yanikian.

It is not permissible for the powers in charge to utilize the wisdom of ostriches when it comes to the Kourken Yanikian case. Yanikian is not Charles Manson, he's not Son of Sam, and he's not the Hillsides Strangler who brutally murdered 13 women. He has paid his debt of incarceration and is preparing to spend the rest of his days in freedom pursuing personal activities.

Turkish obstructionism can only induce nausea, and defiles the principles of American jurisprudence.

We protest against this violation of human rights and the diplomatic obstructionism going on within the realm of criminal law.

It is imperative that Kourken Megerdich Yanikian be set free, so that the noble principles of the American people are respected.

316

NOTES IN THE MARGINS

When I took off from the city of Baghdad to go to Mosul and Haleb, on the way I met two Vanetzi boys. After reaching Mosul, we got on a bus with 16 Arabs to go to Haleb. Half way before reaching Der Zor, armed Arab brigands stopped us and robbed everyone. They took the clothes of the Arabs but didn't take our modern clothes because they had no use for them. Earlier, in the hotel in Mosul, we had sewed our gold money in places where we thought they wouldn't find them. I sewed them in my suspenders, and the two boys in their jackets and the bottom rims of their trousers.

It happened that the opportunity arose for us to see two large mounds of Armenian bones in Der Zor. The memory of those bones not only has shattered my heart but has caused pain to millions.

317

Der-Zor cheollerindeh Gunesh parlior, Osmanli eskeri ghourshoun yaghlior, Ermeni mahajeeri yaman aghlior, Dini bir oghrouna gidan ermeni.

In the hot desert of Der-Zor the sun is shining, The Ottoman soldier is greasing his bullets. The Armenian refugees are weeping intensely, The Armenians who are clinging to their faith.

The brave-hearted Soghomon Tehlirian had Tashnagtzoutioun behind him; this man has the entire Armenian nation.

Those who want to sleep with a restful heart should come to the help of such a brave- hearted individual.

Remember Der Zor -- the terrifying bones.

Der-Zor cheollerindeh Gunesh parlior, Osmanli eskeri ghourshoun yaghlior, Ermeni mahajeeri yaman aghlior, Dini bir oghrouna gidan ermeni.

In the hot desert of Der-Zor the sun is shining, The Ottoman soldier is greasing his bullets. The Armenian refugees are weeping intensely, The Armenians who are clinging to their faith.

NOTES IN THE MARGINS 318

Let us be hopeful that in the future we together shall see great days when we take into consideration that the pages of the newspapers of the two political parties are showing light and faith. I hope I won't be disappointed. If you ask any elder from the province of Kharpert, your wrenched heart will hear them say that outside of the villages they have seen a great number of corpses strewn all over the valleys and mountains. I'm certain that they would willingly recount (their testimonies) to these political organizations.

319

We wept for so many centuries but who listened? What benefit did the sea of tears bring us? If our children forget so much blood and tears, Let the whole world hurl scorn at the Armenians.

I am a gray-haired man who survived the hell of 1915. Let us support the new generation, Let us not bury with us the suffering that we saw and experienced.

The conscientious judge of the show "Death Valley Days" is currently the president of the United States (Ronald Reagan). Let's appeal to him to justly punish the lying Turks.

A sample of what I've heard from the Turks:

Yalan, yalan, Kharenchaya vurdoum, Palan yedi yerden, Chakdem kholan. Minareya vordoum Belime kharenchaya, Oushdi Americaya doushdi. Hepsi yalan, Boude me yalan?

Lies, lies, I mounted a saddle over an ant, From seven places I threaded the saddle straps, I tied the belt around my waist, I sat on the ant, The ant flew and landed in America. All lies -- is this a lie too?

Dear Judge Reagan, How did the nation that rides the ants swallow the bones of 1 1/2 million innocent Armenians? The bones are still witnesses over the ground.

Wish I was a hair that grew on the head of this young man's father. 320

Another Hampig Chitjian Caption: "Conscientious" Judge, why $1,000,000 bail? It should have been one million and a half ... Equal to the number of martyrs."

The Turk is a lying, falsifying murderer.

(Over a cartoon by Massis titled "American aid to Turkey": "$400 million against the Soviets..?" That's a lie, a lie and a lie. The truth is: "Perhaps this money is only to fight against the Armenian case... Thank you Uncle Sam."

(Arrow pointing to a minaret: "The coat of arms of liars." (Arrow pointing to a mosque: "The prayer place of man-slaughterers."

If we unite our voice would be heard. Hampartzoum Chitjian

321

THE LACK OF IMAGINATION99

When in the deep darkness and total calm of the night I retired to my room and my sequence of thoughts were becoming visible, and my brain was in turmoil, I finally realized that it was the lack of imagination that was disturbing my sleep.

In order to be free of this tragedy, I opened the panes my windows, and after listening for a long time to the car noises from the street, I once again approached my desk, and my piece-of- heart friend, the remedy to my sorrowful and wounded heart, the chain of thoughts that often encouraged me during inconsolable moments, brought me back full circle to this same subject.

A subject, the explanation and revelation of which seems to me to be truly impossible to express and analyze with the narrow limits of my mind. However, according to my ability, I will demonstrate that lacking element that dominates almost every Assyrian -- and especially the optimistic, altruistic, and patriotic imagination, the potency of which is historically established, and we currently find that it has reached the status of reality.

[Page 2 is missing]

... And they will live so long as there is sun and moon.

Akh, I wish my blood had as much significance as his blood. Then I would gladly extend my neck to the henchman of the Sultan, and would look with disgust at the medals that he gave, which are painted with the blood of my nation's innocents.

We are directly addressing you, Supreme Catholicos: Either justify the hopes pinned on you by serving your own side, or else voluntarily resign from the throne of the Orthodox Assyrians, because you do not have the courage to be martyred, because you do not have the courage to battle for you flock.

Allow those more experienced than you to occupy our Patriarchal Throne. If it was your desire to enter the network of the Catholicosate, you have already entered. Consider that much sufficient. Remember the days when you were a Bishop? At that time, what were you and what were you preaching? Today, you represent the completely opposite picture of those days.

99 We don't know the significance of this letter, nor why it is in this collection. [The original letter is in the Chitjian "Original Letter Collection."] 322

Therefore your purpose in the past must have been solely to get inside the network of the Catholicosate and pursue your own benefits. We are not able to give an accounting to ourselves.

Supreme Lord, if our opinions are wrong, at least express yourself regarding the issue of the elections of the National Assembly in Bolis. We wrote a great deal but did not receive a satisfying answer. There is no one who justifies your actions other than a few optimists like me. Despite the fact that all goings on regarding national issues have been officially written about, I am still always optimistic, and have with imaginary proofs made an effort to justify your conduct. However, gradually, I too have begun to have second thoughts. Gradually I too am becoming convinced that your sole motive in the past was to get into the network of the Catholicosate.

There are living witnesses to the fearless and courageous sermons you gave in Diarbekir. You were not a person who was afraid of the dagger or the noose, and it should be said that the nation was in even a more dangerous situation -- as well as your person. But today, along with the dawn, rays of light are becoming visible. But you, it seems, dazzled by the sparkle of the medals given by the Turkish government, are sacrificing everything...

To be continued.

The Pentad Committee of the Assyrians January 20, 1921

323

NOR GYANK, 12TH YEAR, #28, JUNE 28, 1990

New Vision, New Organization Interview With "DIASPORAN FRIENDS OF ARMENIA" Founder ARMEN MELIKIAN

Written by Melkon Arslanian100

Saturday 9 June, 1990

With special appointment we are in the editorial offices with Armen Melikian. He is young; thirtyish. He has, however, taken the courageous step to establish the "Diasporan Friends of Armenia" organization, an endeavor founded on a healthy concept. I inquire about him? He is from Beirut. He graduated from the Souren Khanamirian College in 1982. He had succeeded in receiving Baccalaureate in two subjects. His grades in science and mathematics have been high. For a while he wanted to study architecture. Hr came to America in 1984. He changed his mind. He studied political science, especially the fields of international relations and political philosophy. He received his Bachelor's Degree from the Armenian American International College. Two years later, he received his Master's Degree from the University of Washington.

100 Ovsanna Piloyan Chitjian's neighbor in Malatya, circa 1915-1923 324

At the same time, he is a scientific researcher. He has been accepted into a research foundation where they study economic and political issues related to the Middle East. Armen Melikian is the founder of the "Diasporan Friends of Armenia," organization. I ask him: How did the idea come about? Let me give you my main motivation: as a result of the genocide perpetrated by the Turkish Government, we lost 1,500,000 people, immovable estates and economic treasures. We have accounts to settle with Turkey. However, our position to make demands is weak compared to theirs. A. They are 40 million, we are 6. B. They are concentrated in their own land, we, other than in Armenia, are spread all across the world. C. They have statehood and allies. We lack all of that. How can we strengthen our position? By gaining the friendship of influential people in the countries we live in, and in this way strengthen our position. We must do this in a planned manner and establish organizations. In France, we should have "French Friends of Armenia." In America we should have "American Friends of Armenia," etc.

THE ARMENIAN POLITICAL PARTIES AND THIS ORGANIZATION

I ask him: don't you think that our political parties already do that? Add to them, The Armenian Assembly of America, The Zoryan Institute, And the AGBU, which recently opened an office in Washington for this purpose. How will yours differ from them? My purpose is unified cooperation. We will search for local notable intellectuals from different social strata, from the fields of education, science, culture, sports, tourism, economy, and other fields. Together with them we shall devise consensual plans. In this manner, we are going to interest them in our case, and we shall strengthen our demands with their assistance.

ABOUT THE PRELIMINARY WORK

Armen continues. An executive committee has been established with the participation of the following community notables: Vahe Oshagan, Garbis Der-Yeghiayan, Rev. Berj Jambazian, Aram Saroyan, Ellata Chakhoyan, Nora Armani, Kevork Baghjian, Denis Papazian, Roy Kaprielian, and Kourken Kasabian. 325

As you can see, they are from the fields of academia, literature, art or are personalities active in other public fields. The following have shown interest and agree with the purpose of the movement: Vazken I, Catholicos of all Armenians, Governor George Deukmejian, Charles Aznavour.

WITH AMERICAN NOTABLES

We have gotten in touch with many personalities. So far the following have assented to join the organization: 17 State Governors, 16 Congressmen, 2 Senators, 2 University Presidents. All of them congratulated the founding of such an organization, and consider it an honor to join it.

WORK DONE IN ARMENIA

Armen Melikian has visited Armenia a few times on this matter and the results are encouraging. A very influential sponsoring committee has been formed with the participation of the following: Victor Hampartzoumian, President of the Academy, Sergei Hampartzoumian, President of the State University, Henrik Boghosian, Former Governor of Karabagh Krikor Khanjian, famous painter.

IN MOSCOW After months of negotiations, we were able to form a branch in Moscow, with the participation of the following: Tamara Panamarova, President of the Moscow Cultural House, Members of Parliament: Sergei Avarintzev, Sergei Belozertzev. Economist Apel Aghanpegian promised to find us office space. Vahan Emin, Poet Vahan Derian's grandson, and President of the Moscow Armenian Cultural Union, promised to actively work towards founding such offices in other Russian cities with large Armenian populations. 326

We paid close attention to Armen Melikian's plans and his preliminary successes. We loved his idea and we appreciate the work he is doing. He has come a long way. However, for the work to yield results, he needs perseverance lasting many years, and collaborators with faith. Plus money. It is too early for us to expect great results. What remains for us to do is wish him good luck.

From the Asbarez newspaper

The Attaché to the Turkish Embassy in Greece Assassinated

Galip Ozoun, the attaché to the Turkish embassy in Greece was assassinated Thursday when he was walking from his house to his car. According to Greek police, a 25 year old young man had been standing near the diplomat's house waiting for his exit. According to the French News Agency, Agence France Press, A.F.P., the diplomat has died on the spot under the hail of bullets, while his 18 year old daughter has been seriously wounded. However, Reuters News Agency reports that the diplomat's daughter has also died. 327

The French Press Agency also informs that Galip Ozoun's wife and his two children have also been wounded. Greek Prime Minister George Ralis and Opposition Leader Andrea Papandreou have offered their condolences regarding this event. The Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia [ASALA] has claimed responsibility for the assassination. According to the Reuters News Agency, an unknown person has telephoned and announced that the struggle will intensify against Turkey, NATO, American imperialism, and "regressive Armenian" elements. A.F.P. Reports that Friday morning 50 people had been arrested near the diplomat's house, who had participated in a meeting the night before. A.F.P. also chronologically lists all the assassinations perpetrated since 1976 against Turkish diplomats, two of which, Madrid in 1978 and Paris in 1979 were executed by the Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia, while the rest were executed by the Justice Commandos Against Armenian Genocide (JCAG).

DOCTOR MELIKSETIAN'S LETTERS HAVE BEEN DELIVERED TO THE GENOCIDE MUSEUM 328

Recently, Mr. and Mrs. Hovsep and Nadia Sarafian of Detroit once again visited Armenia on the occasion of the 94th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide. Hovsep Sarafian had been especially invited to participate in a conference of Armenian architects from around the world, while Dr. Nadia Sarafian had gone there with a very important mission. She delivered to the Armenian Genocide Museum-Institute five handwritten letters by Dr. Stepan Meliksetian, a Paris-trained surgeon who was at one time the Director of the hospital in Bursa. Dr. Nadia recounted that Dr. Stepan too was falsely accused in 1915, and was imprisoned like other intellectuals who were all subsequently hung from the Bursa Bridge. While in prison, Stepan wrote separate letters to his wife, three children and also to his wife's brother, describing the tortures he was being subjected to. The three brothers of his wife, carpet merchants Garabed, Hagop, and Artin, subsequently took care of his family. Today, only Nadia's maternal grandfather is still alive from the clan. He was a cousin to the Hagopian and Meliksetian families, and he is the one who passed on the five relic-letters to his granddaughter, Dr. Nadia. The latter, coming to Armenia, has brought with her those relics, which are important archival documents, and has passed them on to Haig Demoyan, the Director of the Armenian Genocide Museum-Institute.

UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT

329

A DERSIMTZI YOUNG MAN ADMITS HIS ARMENIAN ROOTS

Lately, the Turkish media has been giving coverage to the Armenians of Dersim. In 1915, thousands of Armenians found refuge in mountainous Dersim. They were subsequently massacred along with Kizilbash-Alevi rebels, during the expanding military campaign by Kemalist forces. Even in those days of terror, many Armenians converted and hid behind the Islamic identity. Zeki Sarejan, a craftsman from Dersim, has revealed his identity in the Turkish newspaper Yeniaktuel with the following statement: "I was born in Mazgird [historical Medzgerd] in 1980. I have been living here for 30 years. My grandfather Hussein was born and grew up here. During the days of the Armenian Genocide, a large portion of the village of Bourbakechit belonged to my grandfather. The father and brothers of my grandfather were murdered. My grandfather escaped and settled in the Tkazkaya village in Mazgird. He found refuge with Mustafa Agha, and was the only one who was saved. His brothers were murdered and he lost touch with those family members who survived. My grandmother is also Armenian. As far as I'm concerned, the decision to found the Dersim Compatriotic Union by Megerdich Prgich Gultekin should have been realized much earlier. There are a great number of Armenians here, but they are disguised, assimilated and are afraid. I affirm my Armenian identity, but my father did not take that step. Everybody, the military and the police, know that my father is Armenian, but he says 'we belong to the Seyidhan Clan.' They are afraid... but I am not afraid anymore." Throughout history, Armenians and the Kizilbash population had lived harmoniously in Dersim. Foreign historians confirm that beginning in the 17th century, the Armenian populations of Bingeul, Sepasdia, Yerzenga and various regions of Kharpert, unable to bear Ottoman Turkish oppression any longer, settled in Dersim and converted to Alevi-ism, an offshoot of the Shia Muslim faith. During the years of the genocide, the Dersimtzis gave refuge to over 40,000 Armenians. In this Period of genocide, many Armenians became Alevis and appropriated the lifestyle of the Dersimtzis. In 1938, the Dersim tribes, under the leadership of Seyid Rezayi, rebelled against Turkish oppression. According to modern day Dersimtzi intellectuals, during the 1938 rebellion, thousands of converted Armenians took up arms, along with the other Dersimtzis, and during the sad aftermath, along with the Dersimtzis, many Armenians were also massacred by the Kemalist army. Today, many European historians affirm that in 1937-38, about 70,000 Dersimtzis and Armenians were massacres by Kemalist forces. Before the genocide of 1915, 45 Armenian churches and 5 monasteries were functioning across Dersim.

From Nor Gyank Weekly

330

My most Respectable Children Mr. Bedros and Mr. Mihran M. T. Chitjian From your Ismieltzi father Chicago On the inside Written by Papken Chitjian

Annotation: This is written on the envelope and it is thought that the envelope belongs to a letter from 1914- 1915. The writing is in Mardiros' handwriting.

331

BEST ADVICE TO THE YOUNG ONES

We swear on our tender lives, That we shall keep our blood pure, That we shall be nation-loving and parent-loving, That we shall love our language and preserve our language and fatherland, Side by side together, with unity... It is the only way. Don't be like a hatchet which always points toward you, But be like a saw, which goes equally toward you and toward us.

In order to remain firmly true to their vows, the youth of Ramona School should sign teacher Zaruhy Chitjian's declaration...

If these 40101 saintly witnesses calmly stay where they are, they won't be of any help. If you don't use it you don't have a voice... If you use it... you will invigorate yourself and many others... by reading them they will get a taste of the world. I wish you would be the first, according to the wishes of your teacher Zaruhy, to remember and compose, with great attention, the stories from her parent's life... What you do would be worth millions to me and thousands to you, and you will make me very content before I close my eyes forever. And God will love you too.

For consoling my sad heart in my deep old age, I wish that the heavenly God will grant you the best of days, and a healthy, happy and fine future.

Hampartzoum Chitjian

101 The Armenian letters. 332

September 15, 1976

To: Robert E. Samson, Area Superintendent

The Armenian community is concerned with the recent trends and proposals made both by the Los Angeles Board of Education and Judge Paul Egly, "Integration Court."

Both are flagrantly ignoring the needs of the Armenian bilingual students. These students qualify as NES and LES students and are entitled to a bilingual program as the existing laws declare.

Judge Egly, in one of his recent proposals for integration, totally ignored the needs of Armenian LES-NES students by dividing them as "white" students into six different schools. This would take a cluster of 350 bilingual students and divide them so that there would be fifty or so at each school site in grades K-6. With this spread a need for a bilingual program would not qualify. This plan would be repeated in several nearby schools.

Likewise, the board's plan to alleviate overcrowded schools, took the same cluster, divided them into four tracks within each school -- again in an insensitive manner, totally ignoring the needs of the Armenian LES-NES students within each grade level. Before this plan went into effect, there were enough students at each grade level with a qualified bilingual teacher to make up a legitimate bilingual class. The parents and the students have expressed a great desire for these classes.

However, at the local school level, while there is some acknowledgement of the Armenians as a bilingual group, the majority of students at each particular school is not getting what the law states they are entitled to. Each school has their own program and there appears to

333

be little coordination within any of the programs within the district. Each teacher and/or aid is left up to their own program.

Presently, there is a cluster of over 2500 newly arrived immigrants from countries in political unrest. A larger influx is anticipated in the near future from Iran, Lebanon, Iraq, and the Soviet Union. As any other refugee group, they come with diverse backgrounds, presenting problems if they are not understood by their teachers and peers.

The Armenian community is doing all it can on a private level to help this situation. Within the last 10 years, seven private day schools have been erected and financed by private funds.

As taxpayers, the Armenian community would like to know what the children in the public schools are entitled to. There is a great discrepancy in what we hear and read in the news media and what the schools are doing locally. These children meet the criterion for NES-LES status and the district receives monies for them, $475 per student. Why shouldn't they are bilingual program be similar to other bilingual programs? As taxpayers, we feel we are being taxed twice for the same objective. Tax money is earmarked for a program which is not being spent as it publicly is a stated. And then we have to finance our own private schools to meet the needs of the students.

Our concern is that as an ethnic group, we are totally being overlooked or being put down. We want to know: (1) Are these are these students entitled to a bilingual program we read about in the media, or as the law states? (2) Are there special programs for special groups? (3) Is there a reason for this discrimination?

We are expecting answers to the above questions and guidelines on how to approach our Board of Education to ensure that the needs of our children are met and they too will receive the bilingual education they are entitled to by law.

Sincerely, Sara Chitjian

334

Nor Or Bi-weekly, Saturday, April 21, 1990 75TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE ARMENIAN GENOCIDE WE SHALL REMEMBER IN ORDER TO LIVE

In another decade, the last survivors of our Armenian genocide will depart from this world. No living Armenian would be able to pass on to the next generation eyewitness testimonies about the first genocide of the twentieth century perpetrate upon a whole nation. We are the second, third, fourth, and fifth generations after the Genocide. We haven't experienced the sharp blows of the scimitar, and haven't walked over the hot sands of the Der Zor Desert, but with every step we have taken, our faces have been bitterly singed by insults that are hurled against people without a homeland, we have felt the agony of living by clawing at life, and yet with our last drop of blood, we have experienced the sweetness of having remained Armenian. The last survivors of the Genocide generation are leaving; they will leave without a whisper, seeing beneath their shadows the renaissance of a generation that will pursue their tears, blood, salt and bread-soaked sacred tradition. We are therefore the heirs of that Case, and shall remain the claimants, for as long as possible, and in our own turn, we shall pass on that tradition from generation to generation. 335

And now, giving an account of the struggle and renaissance of the past 75 years, we will ask ourselves whether we have made a leap forward on the road to conquer that tradition. Undoubtedly we have. Without hesitation we shall repeat that the Genocide perpetrated against the Armenian people generally failed. Hadn't they premeditated to turn us into an artifact in a museum, inside a glass display, to be displayed next to the white bones of mammoths, in front of interested visitors, as the remnants of a disappeared people? The German plan, perpetrated by the Turks, was designed to forever erase us from the face of this earth, so that along with the annihilation of the people our Case would also be buried. A land without people, and a people without a land. How correct is Bogdan Gembarsgi, the great Armenophilliac Pole, who did not limit our tragedy solely as the loss of 1.5 million martyrs. He wrote:"Still remains to be resolved is the issue of compensation for the 6 million unborn, not yet fetus victims, because there were 5 million Armenians alive in 1914, and taking into consideration their natural growth in numbers during the past fifty years, they would now be over ten million, while in reality their number currently is barely over 4 million. This is the extra dimension related to the Genocide perpetrated against the Armenians 50 years ago." He wrote these words in 1965, using data from a quarter of a century ago. We are grateful to all those Armenian-loving non-Armenians who tallied the correct number of our losses. Was it .5 million, 2 million, or 5 million, when we include the yet unborn? It is all the same to us. Currently we have a blood feud with Turkey; not by seeding death against death, but by seeding life against death. Where are we 75 years after the Genocide? Have we succeeded in garnering compensation for our material losses? According to natural growth our total number should fluctuate between 15 to 20 million, yet we are barely 7 million in the fatherland and the Diaspora combined. It is true that we haven't been fully compensated yet for our numerical losses, however, the proof that currently there are 7 million of us convinces us, and let it convince the Turk also, that the Genocide was a failure. 75 years ago we were a collection of massacred, territory-lacking refugees, who tried to console their sorrows with the smoke of the incense of our liturgy, while the countries that led us to the slaughterhouse, were relying on the pity and compassion of those for whose political, economic, and military benefit they spilled our blood in front of the sacrificial altar. Measuring the 75 year-distance of the road we have traversed, we can assert that we have earned the right to exist. Proof of this is evident in our 7 million-strong existence, in the new and energetic generation that strongly clings to our Case, in the millions who walk to the heights of the Genocide Monument at Dzidzernagapert, in our hundreds of schools, clubs, churches, cultural and sports organizations throughout the entire Diaspora. This has been our response to the Genocide. 75 years later we demand an accounting regarding territorial issues.

336

75 years later, we unfortunately have not been able to get compensation, and 9/10th of our historical fatherland remains under occupation. But we should never remove from our thoughts the phenomenon that we managed to defeat the second purpose of the Genocide: to deny territory to the remnants who survived the Genocide What we posses now as drawn on world maps as a 30,000 sq. km. location, or place that is called Armenian World. This is enough to remind the authors of the Genocide and their heirs that our long-term plan of reclaiming the 9/10 cannot fade away and will not fade away. Our political views and understanding of the type of government in charge of this land can change and has changed; they might cause new storms and surprises, but it is the land and the people that provide a constant footing for our survival. All our sophistry and inconsiderate advice change nothing from that reality. In the final analysis, it is the population who are suffering and surviving on that fatherland that forms the strong base for our territorial demands. That territory is the only truth, altar and strong anchor of our rightful claims. For this reason, it is the proof of the existence of that land that hounds the genocider 75 years later. The ghost of the unfinished genocide still hovers over the skies of the fatherland with the old modus operandi still operative but in new hands. Instead of the rusted metal of the scimitar, they now boast new, shiny weapons that roll out of supermodern factories. The only difference now is the fact that instead of the mortified masses that were lead to the slaughterhouse, we now have a proud populace that clings to the mountains and rocks of the fatherland. This is a people that knows how to bleed to the last drop for that sacred stretch of land, because it no longer has any long term plans to retreat. 75 years after the genocide, when our people are living a new renaissance, a new resurrection of its national self-knowledge, when after 75 years of denial it started the just movement to unite Artzakh with Armenia territories, we should never forget that our reckoning is with the current Republic of Turkey and the Turkish people. Time might change our military strategies and the Artzakh movement may become our first priority, our focus, however, we shall remain constantly focused on the occupied lands of Western Armenia. The root of evil is in Turkey. And if in 75 years the Armenian Case has not reached a solution, it is because the so- called superpowers have their own responsibilities. Neither the Soviet Union nor the United States has yet officially recognized the genocide perpetrated against the Armenian people by Turkey. Each of these countries, motivated by economic, political, and military benefits, is reluctant to recognize the facts of the Genocide, in order not to upset Turkey. And because this is the way of political immorality at the start of the 21st century, these countries that are able to track the pathways of the stars, still allow the existence of a Sumgait, a Baku, a Kampuchea. By not condemning genocide, they become verifiably complicit in genocide. No matter what the denials are at this time, we shall continue to pursue our territorial claims with all possible means: with demonstrations, press releases, with books, with the press, with the securing of proclamations in parliaments of many countries. That's because we believe that political winds might shift in the future, and current military bases might become

337

meaningless. In the newly created circumstances, many developments beneficial to us might occur, which must be exploited according to a pre-cultivated Pan-Armenian plan. In the meantime however, the command of the 75th Anniversary of the Genocide is for us to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Armenian people, so that it becomes mighty and flourishes. Our only salvation is contingent on the strengthening of the fatherland's economy. It would be possible to remove the damage inflicted by the natural disaster of the earthquake and the inhumane blockade [by Turkey] by investing in Armenia, thus moving Armenia from a state of dependency to a self-sufficient state. Economic self-sufficiency is the only true path for our salvation. The great powers rely on their economic prowess to use the levers of political clout. This is what the Armenian people should strive for: To strengthen the fatherland's economy in order to have political weight and more authority. It is in this way that we shall blunt political pressures and economic blockades. We should continue to stay shoulder to shoulder in service of the fatherland, not only as a filial duty, but also because our existence in the Diaspora owes its survival to the existence of that fatherland. Thus what meaning would our struggle for retaining our ethnic identity and Armenian-ness have if we didn't have the mother-city Yerevan, Sevan, Zouartnotz, Garni and Keghart, and eagle-nest Artzakh. Knowing that the Armenian people in the Diaspora and Armenia are one and united, today the unity of these two factions in performing cooperative, harmonious mutual work regarding the fundamental issues imposed on our people is even more crucial. We are aware that since Armenia is inside the Soviet Union she cannot run an independent foreign policy. But this does not mean at all that Armenia and the Diaspora cannot not be yoked together to make each other whole, each within its own domain, so that what the fatherland can't do is done by the Diaspora and what can't be done by the Diaspora is done by the fatherland. This is how we understand what Armenia-Diaspora cooperation should be like, which should rise above the level of amateurism, in order for it to become a unified national policy. Time is flying by and we do not have the luxury for waiting and timid behavior. We face an existential emergency: To be or not to be. We find ourselves facing the battle for survival imposed upon us. Let us pick up with honor and pride the gloves thrown at us, and prove that the spilling of the blood of 1.5 million was not in vain. Let us prove that our people possess a worthy legacy amongst international civilizations, and will continue to use that legacy in the coming centuries. Let us prove that our people is worthy of entering the 21st century with a strong economy, and with high scientific knowledge and culture. And thus, with the passing of time we shall continue our struggle, until we receive just compensation, until we repossess our historical homeland and the reunification of the two factions of the Armenian people. They were martyred so that we may live. We live in order to pursue their legacy. Hagop Boghosian THE NUMBER OF KURDIFIED ARMENIANS IN THE EAST IS EXTREMELY LARGE 338

According to Prof. Dr. Selina Deringil, there are Kurdish speaking Armenians in the Eastern parts of Turkey... Professor Selim Deringil from the Department of History of Bogazichi University recently gave an interview to Neshe Düzel from the newspaper Taraf. Historian Deringil put forward the idea that massacres of Armenians had taken place during the reign of Sultan Abdul Hamid. He also gave information about events that have taken place from that time to today. SELIM DERİNGİL: Massacres took place during the reign of Abdul Hamid, but they weren't premeditated and preplanned like the actions that took place during the rule of the Committee of Union and Progress [CUP]. Whereas in 1915 there was a tendency to totally annihilate the Armenians. During Abdul Hamid's reign, many roving "religious" "agent provocateurs" dressed in clerical garb were sent everywhere. Most of the massacres took place on Fridays. During Friday prayers, the religious emotions of the public was provoked, while in our [history] books it is said that, "Armenians attacked when Muslims were performing Friday prayers." In such places like Diyarbakir the Armenians were in the minority anyway. Is it possible that the Armenians would dare to attack Muslims performing their Friday prayers? NESHE TUZEL: Very well; were there also Armenians who converted to Islam in order to be saved? SELIM DERİNGİL: Of course there were. For example, during the massacres of Urfa, some Armenians raised white flags on their roofs and said: "We want to become Muslims."Those people were spared. Of course there were also people who wanted to become Muslim but were killed anyway ...Ottoman NESHE TUZEL: What was the official policy of the state at that time? SELIM DERİNGİL: Conversion to Islam was not an easy and comfortable process. A convert's legitimacy had to be approved by the state. The state only accepted mass conversions, with the concern that, "They are converting because of their fear of the Kurds. In the future they will seek out representatives of foreign countries and will complain." NESHE TUZEL: Isn't conversion to Islam not merely based, like conversion to Christianity, on confession of faith? You utter the vow and you become a Muslim. How is connection achieved between a person and God? SELIM DERİNGİL: Yes that is the way it has been since the time of the Tanzimat102. The State created a large number of bureaucratic hurdles against non-Muslims. They converted to Islam by reciting the formal statement in front of a judge. Even after the Tanzimat, Neighborhood Councils were formed. And it was the law that one had to go to those places in order to convert to Islam. Otherwise the conversion was not officially accepted. Rejection of a

102 Reform Movement: Tanzimat included the policy of “Ottomanism,” which was meant to unite all the different peoples living in Ottoman territories: “Muslim and non-Muslim, Turkish and Greek, Armenian and Jewish, Kurd and Arab”. This policy officially began in 1839.

339

person who wants to convert to Islam was considered a grave sin. In one word, there was a policy to thin out the Armenian population. NESHE TUZEL: Was the number of Muslims who married Armenian women large? SELIM DERİNGİL: That was a widespread phenomenon. After getting dishonored, the girl, even if she wanted to, could not return to her family. She would conceive children... In addition, the Kurds preferred Armenian girls in order to avoid paying dowry. In truth, Armenians and Kurds are a much intermixed people -- for example, Dink's wife Rakel Dink. Similarly, there are tribes who speak Kurdish but are Christian. The Kurds and Armenians are so intermixed that... We... NESHE TUZEL: Yes... SELIM DERİNGİL: We currently in the state-nation insist that a person should be "one thing". The state mandates that a person cannot have more than one root, yet in these lands people have more than one root. People around there could very easily have more than one root. The number of Kurd-Armenians in the East is very large. That is to say, the number of Kurdish Armenians is extremely large. NESHE TUZEL: With what are our historians busy that they are not investigating such a significant phenomenon in our modern history? SELIM DERİNGİL: The historians? The historians are only busy with the task of proving the official thesis of the state. They seek to demonstrate how baseless Armenian claims are. After the war, it became clear how serious were the instances of the kidnapping of Armenian girls and the adoption of children in 1915 in Anatolia. NESHE TUZEL: Is the number of the adopted Armenian children known? SELIM DERİNGİL: The number of "adopted" Armenian boys and girls in 1915 is given as 300,000, but this number must be investigated... Right before Dink's assassination we talked with Hrant about this subject. We were going to start a project together about "adoptions." Amongst the adopted there were also children who were taken in as servants or maids. Data that we now have in our hands in Turkey regarding this subject exists in the form of memoirs. The archives that could be used as primary sources exist in Jerusalem, where not many people have the means to go to. It is believed that in 1915, mostly 7-16 year old Armenian children were adopted, most of them girls. In general, preference was given to young children, because their self-identity was not yet fully formed and thus they could easily be converted to Islam. NESHE TUZEL: Did these women convert to Islam? SELIM DERİNGİL: There are those who still secretly practice Christianity. Then there are those who have become fanatically Moslem and never talk about their Armenian roots. Some others only talk about their Armenian-ness in the privacy of their homes. Becoming a fanatical Moslem is a sort of refuge -- after the calamities that befell them, because people remember. They are not able to erase their memories of how someone's mother was raped, then her throat was cut off, and after her head was smashed with a rock, they would say "she's dead"

340

and move on. I don't think that the number of people who secretly practice Christianity is very large.

THE ARMENIANS OF DERSIM PLAN A CULTURAL FESTIVAL TO ESTABLISH TIES WITH THEIR FELLOW NATIONALS

YEREVAN, "Tert". - In order to establish ties between the Armenians of Dersim and the Armenians in Armenia a cultural festival is planned to take place in Dersim in August. This news was conveyed by Mihran Prkich Gultekin yesterday in Yerevan during a meeting with journalists. Guletkin, who legally converted to Christianity on his 40th birthday, is the founder of the Turkey-based Union of Dersim Armenians, which he founded to help hidden and Islamized Armenians re-find their identity. The Festival will last 4-5 days. "In regards to establishing ties between Armenians of Dersim and Armenians of Armenia, we don't expect anything from the Republic of Armenia; we have greater expectations from the youth of Armenia. We want to organize a cultural festival in Dersim where Armenians of Dersim, the Armenians from Armenia, and the Armenians of the world-wide Diaspora can come and meet one another," Gultekin said. He noted that a false image of Yerevan and Armenia as a "very backward and useless city and country" has been presented to the Armenian youth of Dersim. "Yerevan possesses indescribably beauty, but they don't know about it in Dersim. Dersim is very much like Yerevan in structure," Mihran Prkich Gultekin said. The speaker also noted that the Armenian youth of Dersim suffer from an inferiority complex which stems from the fact that they had converted and that they do not speak Armenian. According to the Turkish constitution, they are officially recognized as Turks and are afraid that they will be rejected and will not be accepted by the Armenian youth of Armenia. Nonetheless, during the last two years the number of the members of the union has increased by 80 members. Gultekin also noted that the necessary ways and means to learn Armenian do not exist in Dersim; while it is possible to learn Armenian in Istanbul only through small private groups that have been formed by Armenian youth. However, there also not everything is easy. "The Armenians of Dersim do not have contact with Armenians of Bolis either. The complex of having changed their religion distorts those relations too," asserted Mihran Prkich Gultekin. 341

1915 1994

MY NAME IS HAMPARTZOUM

A survivor. My memory of and feelings toward those noble and nation-loving individuals who performed difficult deeds as they came to the aid of Armenian refugees. 1. Kharpert: Dr. Michael Hagopian, a most-esteemed pioneer. During the hellish days of 1915, the terrifying fear of the vile Turk chocking around his neck, he took care of poor Armenian patients without charging. (In addition,) he also helped them financially. He tried to save surviving Armenians. 2. Kharpert: Archbishop Kuid Mkhitarian: from 1917 to 1923, with great difficulty found a way to save over 2500 Armenians from hell. 3. Tavriz: Archbishop Nerses Melik-Tankian took care of 20,000 refugees from Armenia. He treated everybody equally. 4. Mexico City: Kapriel Babayan found jobs for 1500 orphans. The "father" of the Armenians should be appreciated. 5. America: Gabriel Indjejikian, a Kessabtzi: hard-working school principal who established the first Armenian school in America. His mind never gave in to hopelessness. A pioneer, and the first Armenian with a noble personality. All of us appreciate him. He opened the gates of the world of light -- the birth of a school103 -- so that the terrifying "white massacre" subsides. May God protect him.104 ...It is unbearable...

103 Established the first Armenian Day School in North and South America! 104 Instrumental in establishing an Armenian language charter school in Los Angeles. 342

6. America: Richard Hovanessian, a Kharpertzi. A hard-working individual who introduced Armenian history to all the other nations so that the hellish acts of 1915 would not be forgotten and denied. 7. Kirk Kerkorian, a Kharpertzi. 8. Kourken George Deukmejian, Governor of California. 9. Alex Manougian. 10. Hrayr Hovnanian. From my heart I curse disunited leaders. One who suffered a dog's life for 6 years.

With a heart on fire, Hampartzoum Chitjian 85 years old.

Archbishop Nerses Melik-Tankian

Archbishop Nerses Melik-Tankian was the Prelate of the Aderbadagan Diocese. He was tall, handsome, distinguished by the unique expression of his eyes, and his brief and affectionate words. Tankian was very well aware of Armenian History and literature, as well as the international ones. There are no words to describe the unique characteristics of this Holy Father, who for 36 years was the Prelate of Aderbadagan, who as a mighty shepherd and unparalleled leader protected the Armenians living there. Archbishop Nerses Melik-Tankian was born on March 16, 1866, in the village of Pernagot in Zankezour, Armenia, with the baptism name of Nigoghayos. He received his elementary education in his village, Pernagot, and subsequently attended the Kevorkian Academy of St. Etchmiadzin Church. In 1896, he left for St. Petersburg, where he got accepted to the University of St. Petersburg. He attended law school until he graduated, choosing teaching as his first career. Soon after, Melik-Tankian returned from St. Petersburg and fully dedicated his life to educating and teaching the new generation of young Armenians the Armenian language, history, and culture. Until the time when the Government of the Tsar closed the Armenian schools, Melik-Tankian continued to work as a teacher in his native village, at the Armenian School in Baku, and at the Parishioner School of Shushi.

343

In 1899, Melik-Tankian decided to live the religious life and was ordained as a celibate priest in Etchmiadzin by Catholicos Khrimian Hayrig. Then the young priest was designated the Priory at the historical Datev monastery, and as the Vice-prelate of Zankezour. Because of the Armenian-Tatar problems of 1905, the Russian Government forced Khrimian Hayrig to contact Monk Nerses and warn him about his nationalistic activities. Having no choice, Khrimian Hayrig asked him to return to Etchmiadzin and made him the Master of the Chancery of St. Etchmiadzin. Despite the threats, Monk Nerses continued his activities. In 1907, the government exiled him to the St. Cross monastery in Crimea. In 1912, after receiving his degrees in religious studies, first as a Bishop then as an Archbishop, Melik- Tankian was appointed the Prelate of the Aderbadagan Diocese; a job he committed to heartily and with great enthusiasm for 36 Year.105 Melik-Tankian was not only loved by the Armenians in Iran, but also by the native Persians. As a result of their respect, Tankian had great influence and power in governmental circles. And because of his gratitude and respect, the last Ghatchar King of Iran, Ahmad Shah, awarded Tankian the "Shir O Khorshit" medal. On April23, 1926, Reza Shah became the king. Tankian congratulated him and proudly presented the gift of the Armenian community to him. As a lawyer, he published The Rights of the Armenian Church in two volumes. He also led the campaign for the formation of inheritance and family rights for the Armenians in Iran, which was presented to the Ministry of Justice and approved upon by the parliament of Iran in 1933. Soon after its approval, the law was applied in the courts for the Iranian Armenians. As a result of this law, legal Armenian authorities took charge of the matters of marriage, divorce, as well as different religious issues regarding the Armenians in Iran. Melik-Tankian was always very interested in the education of all Armenian children. He opened schools in villages for peasant children to provide them with an Armenian education and to make them literate. Melik-Tankian's years at the prelacy were crucial and difficult for the Armenians. During WWI, in 1915, the Turkish army entered Iran. To escape the Turkish persecutions as well as massacres, Armenians from Urmia, Salmast, Khoy, and Tavriz left their homes in Iranian Julfa and entered Russian soil. At that time, Melik-Tankian successfully settled the Armenian refugees in Tiflis and various small villages within Russian territories. In 1918, the Turkish Army under the command of Nouri Pasha entered Tavriz. With the help of Dickran Khan Koroyan, an influential citizen of Tavriz; Melik-Tankian saved the Armenians of Tavriz from a horrible massacre and robbery. Melik-Tankian also played an important role in helping the Armenians escape from the Genocide of 1915, by providing them with shelter and a safe home in Iran. On December 2,l920, the First Republic of Armenia collapsed and the Soviet Forces occupied Armenia. During this time, about14,000 refugees entered Tavriz, the majority of who were intellectual people as well as political figures. Without hesitation, Melik-Tankian placed

105 See "A Hair's Breadth from Death," Ch. 30, P. 226-252. 344

them in the homes of native Armenians and arranged their legal status in the country. He also provided them with work permits as well as jobs in Tavriz and its surrounding areas. A few months later, Zankezour fell into the hands of the Soviet forces and the Red Amy. During this time, Commander Njteh fled to Tavriz to escape Soviet persecution. Holy Father Melik-Tankian secretly hid him in Iran, and because of his attempts to settle things down, the situation in Tavriz gradually calmed down and the Armenians there gratefully thanked him for it. On June 12, 1926 the Armenians of Tavriz celebrated Melik-Tankian's 60th birthday and 40th year of holy service. The agents of Soviet Armenia constantly hounded Archbishop Melik-Tankian and set up traps for him to force him to stop his patriotic and nationalistic activities. In June of 1945, he received an invitation to anoint the church of St. Mariam in Tehran, which was built by the Benefactor Roman Issaian, in the presence of Bishop Karekin Hovsepian, Patriarch Guregh Israelian, Archbishop Mampreh Sirounian and many others, who on the 29th of the same month were to leave for St. Etchmiadzin to participate in the election and anointing of Kevork VI Chorekjian as Catholicos. Melik-Tankian did not go to Etchmiadzin knowing that he would not be able to return once he was in the hands of the Soviet authorities. As the Red Army entered Iran in 1941, Communist Armenian groups known as "Toteh and Democrat" was formed. These communist groups put a considerable amount of pressure on Melik-Tankian. From 1945 to 1946, the self-elected Iranian-Azerbaijani government formed which did not last for more than a year. The Iranian government captured Aderbadagan with a big army and after reaching Tavriz, showed great respect toward the Holy Father. On the 28th of September 1948, Melik-Tankian passed away at the age of 82.106The Iranian Government arranged an unprecedented burial ceremony with the participation of many Armenians and Persians from Tavriz and all across Iran. The Commander of Aderbadagan, General Shah Bakhdi, with his group of soldiers, and different Iranian political figures were also among the participants. Many articles and books are published in honor and memory of Melik-Tankian. Memoir of Archbishop Nerses Melik-Tankian, written by intellectual Arsen Mamian, fully describes his personality, life, and difficulties.

106 At the age of 82, Archbishop Nerses Melik-Tankian passed away. He was loved and respected both by Armenians as well as the Persian government. The Iranian government arranged an unprecedented burial ceremony with the participation of Armenians and Persians from Tavriz and all over Iran. 345

The Conduct of the Armenian Family is Virtuous

346

watch them so that they love their nation and homeland, and preserve their language. They should share their estate and wealth with every member. Every member has mutual love and respect in their hearts for each other. They perform the duties assigned to them with joy. The father's compassion and the mother's love permeate the pleasant lifestyle of the family. Here's an example from my dynasty: 14 members of my family lived under one roof. My grandfather was 90 and had full command of the household. He was healthy, jovial and full of jokes and fables. We all loved him. Because of the respect my father bestowed upon him, he lived a long and happy life. My father used to bow in front of him before sitting on his side of the hearth. Although my father smoked a great deal, he never did so in front of his father. My mother, who after all bore nine children, was equally respectful of my grandfather. She never had conversations with him and continued to act as if she were still a new bride. We were six brothers and three sisters. We also had two aunts. The rules inside our household were so good that one could rarely find it in other families: It was a Christian and a loving way, where everyone performed their chores willingly and not because it was mandatory. It was customary to wake up everyone before sunrise. They considered waking up before sunrise Godly. To still be asleep after sunrise was considered a sin. Or they used to say the person is lazy or weak. As soon as we got out of bed, we had to wash up. One of us would pour water (with a pitcher) over the hands of my father and (in turn) another over the hands of my grandfather so that he would wash up (hands and face). And this is when we 1st used to hear of their prayers. Then they used to go to church, and we, the males, would go to school. In the evening we (grandfather, father and boys) went to church regularly. We would put on altar vestments of boys and pray. In the evenings, after dinner, by the light of the fire we used to do our homework. Around eight or nine, my grandfather, father and six brothers would gather in front of the fire, with my mother and sisters standing behind us, and would recite the 24 verses of "With Faith I Confess." Each one of us would recite a verse. We would then go down on our knees and sing "Lord, take pity on us ... Lord, grant peace to the world, and healing to the sick, freedom to the Armenian Nation, the chance for those who miss one another to see one another, and love and unity to the family." My father, apprehensive of the vile nature of the Turk, sent my two brothers to America. Unable to bear her longing my mother fell sick and passed away within three months. Such is the love of a mother. My grandfather also passed away in 1909. The same lifestyle continued within our household until 1915.

347

Armenian Family Life is Desirable

The well-to-do and dutiful Armenian parent wishes to choose the best life-partner for its offspring. Previously, in order to form a durable and desirable family, they used to look for and choose for their offspring a compatible person from amongst their neighbors or friends. With the approval of both parents, the mothers, incidentally, announce the compatible age of their children -- the boy from 18-19-20, and the girl from 16-17-18.Customarily, at the end of autumn or in the winter, the priest is called upon to bless the gift of the engagement ring, which symbolizes the beginning of their connection. Before the wedding, they decide who will be the Godfather and the Godmother, one from the boy's side, the other from the girl's. Good-naturedly they infuse into the heads of the bride and groom advice on how to enjoy the good days and how to survive the bad ones, as they continue in life yoked together. As the proverbs says, the only way for a marriage to endure: "Don't be like a hatchet which always points toward you, but be like a saw, which goes equally toward you and toward us." This is how a nest is built in the hearts of the novices. In this way, well- tutored and ready, they stand in front of the priest at the altar of the church, and vow, according to their understanding of the quality of love, to live as two bodies within one soul and to grow old on the same pillow.

348

The Conduct of the Armenian Family is Virtuous

There is solidarity, love, respect, the fear of God, and diligence in the Armenian family. There is also a grandfather and grandmother, who, with hearts full of tender loving care, observe their children and grandchildren grow up, multiply and replace them. The estate and wealth belongs to every member. Every member has love and respect in their hearts for one another. The duties assigned to them are performed with joy. The father's compassion and the mother's love permeate the home with a pleasant lifestyle. A glimpse from the life of my father's dynasty... This is what my father used to recount: My name is Hampartzoum, the son of Mardiros and Turfanda. My grandfather's name was Toros. He had one son and two daughters: Mardiros, Marinos, and Aghavni. We were six brothers and three sisters: Zaruhy, Bedros, Mihran, Sultan, I and my twin Kaspar, Kerop, Nishan, Yeranuhy. Together we formed one family under one roof. My father was an artisan who printed colorful patterns on muslin by hand. It was very difficult work. My grandfather was 90. He had command of the household. He was healthy, jovial and full of jokes. We all loved him. Because of the respect my father showed him, he lived a long and happy life. Slowly bowing his head, my father would sit on his side of the hearth.107 Although my father smoked a great deal, he never did so in front of his father. My mother, after bearing nine children, was equally respectful of my grandfather. She never spoke directly to him acting as if she were still a new bride. The rule inside our household was so good that one could rarely find it in other families. It was the Christian way and a loving manner, where everyone performed his/her chores willingly and not because it was mandatory. It was customary to wake up before sunrise. Waking up before sunrise was considered Godly. Sleeping after sunrise was considered a sin. Or, as they used to say that person is lazy or weak. As soon as we got out of bed, we had to wash up. One of us would pour water into the hands of my father and another into the hands of my grandfather so that they would wash up. And even during this they would pray. They used to go to church, and we would go to school. In the evening we (males) too went to church regularly. We would put on vestments of altar boys and pray.

107 Customarily they sat on the floor in front of the fireplace for dinner -- Mardiros on the right side and Toros on the left side. 349

In the evenings, after dinner, by the light of the fire we used to do our homework. Before sitting down for dinner, standing up we used to recite the Lord's Prayer. Again after dinner we used to recite the Lord's Prayer. Around nine or ten (in the evening), my grandfather, father and six brothers would gather around the hearth, with my mother and sisters standing behind us, and would recite the 24 verses of "With Faith I confess." Each one of us would recite a verse. We would then kneel down on our knees and sing "Lord, take pity on us ... Lord, grant peace to the world, healing to the sick, freedom to my Armenian Nation, love and unity in the family, and the chance to see those we miss."The last wish had really impacted our heart because my father had sent my elder brothers Mihran and Bedros to America. They were gone to a hellish place,108 but being there (America) was preferred to staying and becoming a slave to the Turk. There was great fear. Although the reputation of America was high, the vile conduct of the women there had confused many people. I remember very well that a number of innocent Armenian boys had been tricked by the falsehoods of American girls. Some had been driven mad. One boy had thrown himself from the window of a high-rise building and had died. When the father and the mother heard the news, they wailed and expressed their hatred of American floozies. I saw our 20-23 year old neighbor who had gone mad and was sent back from America. Sometimes he would beat up his sister and mother, and then commuted back and forth from his house to the church kissing the stones on the way. Such was our lifestyle until the Turks brought it to an end in 1915. With this painful idea my mother's first...

108 They were sent to America to avoid the Turkish draft. 350

THE NUMBER OF PEOPLE RETURNING TO THEIR ARMENIAN ROOTS IS INCREASING

In the last few years, the number of people who are returning to their Armenian identity has increased greatly. Many who are discovering they are Armenian are returning to the fold. Aghapalouoghli [Protestant Pastor in Istanbul] says: "For those who live in Anatolia, life is difficult. Everybody knew us as Muslim Kurds. My father and mother were religious people. When I turned 12, the neighborhood kids started to call me a 'Gyavour.' I asked my mother and discovered that I was Armenian. At school they used to teach us that 'Armenians had massacred people.' I wept continuously because I was an Armenian. For many years I could not decide which side to choose. And finally, I decided to return to the religion of my forefathers. There is saying in the Mohammedan religion that states: 'He who rejects his own essence is an illegitimate offspring.'" And this is how Yusuf Yilmaz bears witness about his experiences in Purgatory, and his return to his true identity. Yilmaz is not the only example, however. The high level source who provided information to the Radikal newspaper asserts that during the last 3-4 years, especially in Istanbul, the number of Armenians who have applied at the Patriarchate or churches to return back to their identity has increased measurably. The source also mentions the following: "Taking into consideration that every year the number of applicants is increasing, the applicants are thoroughly examined to gauge whether the applicant truly has Armenian origin or not. A few methods have been adopted regarding this. A copy of the identity certificate is required, which is then compared with the registration records of the Patriarchate; local oral history is also taken into consideration. It is especially significant to note that the picture revealed by citizens from eastern Anatolia show that they are a majority."

351

The same source highlights the fact that although the Armenian taboo has been partially lifted, nonetheless, it is still difficult for Armenians who are identified as Mohammedans to publicly reveal their identity. The source also informs about the tragedy of some of those who wished to convert. For example, "a 30 year old lawyer living in Istanbul wanted to convert. His family had migrated from Central Anatolia and was well known by everybody. They used to own a large number of tracts of land, had owned vineyards lands etc. During the deportations, breaking the law, through bribes they had managed to escape to Istanbul. It seems that five years ago the lawyer had found out that he was Armenian. He recounts that he was educated as a patriotic-conservative Turk, and some members of his family had been active operatives within right wing political parties. 'When I discovered that I am Armenian, my self esteem was wounded, because since childhood the Armenians have been presented to be as the 'enemy,' as the 'other.' My father and mother told me that they were forced to treat me in that manner for my own good. After continuously fighting within myself for five years, I decided to convert. My family intervened again, fearing that my action would bring them harm. I was in purgatory: I could go neither this way nor that,' said the young man." Reverend Krikor Aghapalouoghli, the spiritual leader of the Gedick Pasha Protestant church, similarly asserts that the number of those who are converting has increased, especially during the past five years. "There are one million Armenians who have lost their identity living in Anatolia. From different cities and towns and villages in Anatolia, Christian Armenians who have been Islamized for years, have been making inquiries and asking for advice. This activity is more complex for those living in Anatolia, because where they live are small places, and independent of that, there is the pressure of the street, and also the fear of the contempt of their friends. For this reason the number of people who have discarded their true identity is large."

LET THERE BE NO PROPAGANDA ACTIVITY

On the other hand, Dickran Kevorkian, the Chairman of the Council of the "Twelve Apostles" Armenian Church in Kendilli, said he following: "The human being cannot move away from his roots that easily. There are many hidden Armenians who, because of the political conditions, were forced to change their religion and identity, although their mothers and grandmothers are of Armenian origin. But there is no need to turn the fact of their conversion and return to their original identity into a propaganda affair. The announcement 'we will return to our roots' is like raising a flag against the government. There is no need for it. It is sufficient that people return back to their identity, and let that return be true and honest."

I EXPEREINCED A SPIRITUAL SHOCK AND WEPT Yusuf Yilmaz, (jeweler, 27years old)

352

"We are Adiamantzis by birth but throughout my childhood we lived in Aintab. Everybody knew us as Muslim Kurds. My father was an employee and would pray five times a day according to the Muslim religion. My mother was a housewife, and despite taking care of seven children she used to fast. Although we knew Turkish we spoke Kurdish at home. During the summer, we used to go to Adiaman. Whenever there would be commotions during playtime, the children used to shout, 'go away from here, Gyavour, you are an Armenian.' In the beginning I did not understand. When I was 12 years old, for the first time I asked my mother and found out that we had once been Christian and had converted to Islam later on. She also said that our origin was Armenian. As soon as I found this out I began to weep, because they had taught us at school that the Armenians were traitors and murders "I experienced a spiritual shock. For a long time I had difficulty in deciding which side to take and I wavered between my two identities. As a result I moved to Istanbul. I tried to understand the Holy Bible. I began to attend the Armenian church at Yenikapou, and at the age of 19 I was baptized as a Christian. When I got baptized, my father and uncles did not speak to me for a long time. And now I have been living as a Christian for 17 years. There is saying in the Muslim religion that states: 'He who rejects his own essence is an illegitimate offspring.'"

MERAL T. (Housewife, 45 years old)

"My grandfather raised my father according to Armenian culture, however, both my grandfather, and father, and uncles lived as Muslims outside the house. I was 15 years old when my mother told us that we were Armenian. I was very surprised. My father said that after the deportations they had no choice but to live like this. At the age of 28 I married an Armenian from Bolis and decided to return to my identity and to be baptized."

IT SEEMS THAT EVERYBODY KNEW Selaheddin Kultekin (45 years old)

"I grew up as a Tuncelitzi (Dersim) Armenian, but I was educated according to Alevi culture. Everybody around us apparently knew that we were Armenian. One of my uncles was a tailor and the other one was an artisan. For this reason we were often the center of attention of people. When some members of our family emigrated to Istanbul and France, they returned to their identity. They got baptized and it was recorded in their identity cards that they were Christian. Eventually, it seems that the taboos were lifted within the public. This condition was the cause that reminded me that 'the time has come.' Six months later I got baptized and changed my name to Mihran Prgich. I am married and have two children. The children are university students. They too feel that their time has come." 353

RETURN TO ROOTS

Those Armenians who wish to return to their roots initially apply to the courts to 'change religion.' After receiving permission, they apply to the church and with the help of a clergyman study Christianity. When the individual makes his final decision, he is baptized.

TO REMAIN IN ANATOLIA THEY STAY DISGUISED

During the war years, because of successive Armenian rebellions, as well as famine and contagious diseases, law and order had disappeared in Anatolia. Battles took place between brigand groups, with the motto "blood for blood, life for life." It was decided to forcefully deport the Armenians in the east. In 1915, according to the "deportation" decision, Armenian women, children, men, and hundreds of thousands of citizens were forcefully deported. During these deportations that lasted a year the surviving Armenians experienced great tragedies, the pain of which continues to this day. As a result of this tragedy thousands died and families were decimated. Some of the Armenians left behind their homes and estates in Anatolia and went abroad, while others changed their identity and continue to live in their homeland. However, only a small portion of the decimated families remained in Anatolia. And they, in order to avoid pressure, were forced to hide their identity and live behind closed doors.

Mineh Tutug Tarek Ishek "Radikal" 20/11/2010

The Meritorious Prelate Archbishop Nerses Melik-Tankian Prelate of the Aderbadagan Prelacy (1866-1948) By Doctor Reverend Zaven I Arzoumanian

354

Preamble

Archbishop Nerses Melik-Tankian served as the meritorious Prelate of the Aderbadagan, one of the three prelacies in Persia. He passed away in September of 1948 in Tavriz at the age of 82. His baptism name was Nigoghayos. He was born in Zankezour in 1886. After graduating from the Kevorkian Academy at Etchmiadzin, he served for ten years as a teacher at the school of his birthplace and subsequently at the Parishioner School of Shushi. He received a law degree from the University of Petersburg in 1900. After returning to the Mother Sea, he was ordained as a celibate priest by the permission of His Holiness Catholicos Megerdich Khrimian Hayrig in 1901, and was immediately appointed as the Abbot of the Datev Monastery in Sunik. Nerses Vartabed opposed the confiscation of Armenian estates by the Tsar, and stood shoulder to shoulder with the Father (Hayrig) of the Armenians, and because of this he was exiled to Crimea. After his return from exile, he was appointed as the Head of the Chancery of the Mother Sea by Khrimian Hayrig. Subsequently, from 1909-1912, during the reign of Catholicos H.H. Mateos II Izmirlian, he was appointed President of the inner government of the monks, and Supervisor of the building projects of the monastery. In 1912, the newly elected Catholicos, Kevork V Soureniantz, appointed him as the Patriarchal Envoy to the Aderbadagan Prelacy, where he subsequently was elected as Prelate. Archbishop Nerses lead the Aderbadagan prelacy from 1912 to the year he passed away in 1948, during the reigns of Catholicoi Kevork V, Khoren I, and Kevork VI. He was anointed Bishop to reign over the Aderbadagan Prelacy, by H.H. Catholicos Kevork V Soureniantz, having as co-anointee Bishop Khosrov Behrigian from the first Armash generation, the martyred Prelate of the Gesaria Prelacy. Nerses Melik-Tankian served his holy prelacy for 36 industrious years, and was greatly appreciated by his people and the political circles of Iran.

The First World War Years

The Aderbadagan Prelacy lived through many fatal and grave days during the pre-WWI days. The Turks invaded Aderbadagan where over 40,000 Armenians and Assyrians refugees had taken shelter. It was left for Bishop Nerses to paternally manage these crises, after which, in 1915, the catastrophic deportation of the Vasbouragan Armenians toward the Caucasus and Persia too place. In 1917, Holy Catholicos Kevork V appointed Bishop Nerses as Patriarchal Envoy to Vasbouragan. He went there and visited the monasteries of Varak, St. Partoghomios, Garmrarvor, Akhtamar, St. Krikor, Nareg, Lim, and Gdoudz, and appointed Abbots at each monastery, and took care of prelacy affairs. According to the report delivered by Bishop Nerses to the Armenian Catholicos, the prelate branches of Western Armenia were to have the following directorships: A) Van, Bayazid, Alashgerd, Mush, Khnous, were to be collectively under the reign of Srpazan Nerses;

355

B) Garin, Pasen, Papert, Terjan, Mamakhatoun, Yereeza and Kghi were to be collectively under the reign of Bishop Zaven Babayan; C) Trabizon, Gumushkhaneh, Kisim, Sever Tortum,were to be collectively under the reign of Rev. Mesrob Melian. In 1917, Srpazan Nerses was elevated to the rank of Archbishop and as the hand-picked Prelate governed the prelacy in perpetuity.

The Political Situation

After the Sovietization of Armenia, Srpazan Melik-Tankian was never allowed to visit the Holy See in Etchmiadzin, because Soviet agents branded him as an undesirable and suspicious personality, and who on purpose accused him of being a sympathizer and ally of the A.R.F. Under the same conditions, during the reigns of Kevork V and Khoren I Catholicoi, the Soviet Authorities held a belligerent attitude toward Archbishop Nerses, and even demanded from the Mother Sea to recall him from Persia to Etchmiadzin. However, he remained steadfastly at the helm of his position, with the support of the two Catholicoi. In a January 27, 1927 report, Archbishop Khoren Mouradpekian, the Deputy Prelate of the Ararat Prelacy, informed Catholicos Kevork V about the negotiation he and Archbishop Karekin Hovsepiantz had with representatives of the Yerevan Government regarding Srpazan Melik-Tankian. According to the explanation given, Lougashen and Hovhanessian relentlessly attacked Melik-Tankian as a person who, "had assumed an adversarial position against Soviet Armenia," and had supposedly joined the Tashnagtzoutioun and was plotting against the motherland. They even demanded that the Catholicos defrock him, to which Archbishop Karekin replied, "Only those who transgress against the church are defrocked, and Archbishop Nerses has not transgressed against the church." Archbishop Nerses enjoyed an influential position and respect amongst the higher political echelons of Persia. Despite the continuous attacks against him, Melik-Tankian, as a son of the spiritual Kevorkian Academy, remained loyal to the Mother Sea, and wholeheartedly came to its assistance whenever the Supreme Catholicos sought help -- including, during the harsh Stalinist Era, when on behalf of the Aderbadagan Prelacy, he materially assisted in the building of tanks named "Sassountzi Tavit." He clearly acted as a close ally of Catholicoi Khoren I, Kevork V, and Karekin I. Hovsepiants of the Cilician Sea, who were once his classmates at the Kevorkian Academy. Even in 1945, Archbishop Nerses did not participate in the Mother Sea's national-church assembly, which eventually elected H.H. Kevork VI as Catholicos of all Armenians. He was supposed to participate together with Catholicos Karekin Hovsepiantz. However, on that occasion Melik-Tankian served as a gracious host to all the delegates who, lead by Catholicos Karekin I, passed through Persia in order to enter Armenia. Archbishop Nerses similarly did not participate in the ordination of Khoren I Mouradpekian in 1932, which means that from 1914 to

356

the year of his passing -- full 34 years -- he was not able to visit the Mother Sea because of the above mentioned consideration.

The Armenian Prelacy of Aderbadagan

The Aderbadagan Prelacy is the oldest Prelacy of the Iranian Armenians. It includes the Paydagaran and Zarevant Provinces of Armenia, where the ancient St. Thadeus and (early witness) Saint Stepanos Armenian monasteries are located. Built in the 17th century, they are genuine examples of Armenian church architecture, and present a fundamental value, especially during annual pilgrimages, when processions and divine liturgy is performed with the participation of hundreds of visiting pilgrims. The Prelacy, headquartered in Tavriz, under the leadership of Melik-Tankian, with its 57 churches served as a center of Armenian culture. There were also schools where literate students were cultivated under the supervision of generations of intellectuals. During the early years of Archbishop Nerses' reign, the Prelacy was engulfed in severe political struggles, throughout which the Srpazan showed unyielding courage in his efforts to safeguard the Prelacy and the people. In 1918, the Turkish forces entered Aderbadagan when Melik-Tankian had just begun to serve at the Prelacy. The Armenians and the Assyrians resisted, but the overwhelming forces of the Turks forced some of the Armenians to escape to the central parts of Persia, suffering great losses. During the span of five months the Turks massacred 7000 Armenians and deported thousands more. Two years later, some of the refugees returned, because of which, the prelate was able to reconstitute the religious and educational aspects of the Prelacy's work, when the dispersed flock re-gathered. In addition to the churches, the community also had Armenian schools in 10 villages. In 1946, reverse-emigration to Soviet Armenia began. Yet Tavriz still remained the center where large number of Armenians remained, and where the Prelacy was located with its jurisdiction over the four provinces of Rezayieh, Shahpoor, Maragha, and Gharatagh. Srpazan Melik-Tankian's long-lasting leadership kept the Prelacy under the auspices of the Mother Sea, according to the tenets of the Prelacy's Body of Envoys, and the 17-member Law-making Prelacy Council, which in its own turn elected a 7-member Prelacy Council. The Prelacy garnered its reputation and honor due to the diligent and unyielding efforts of Archbishop Nerses, especially when governmental personalities treated him and issued related to the Aderbadagan Prelacy with respect and veneration.

His Literary Oeuvre

In his youthful years, Archbishop Melik-Tankian became famous as a lawyer for his important work of editing the "Canon Book of Armenians." This two-volume work, known as "The Rights of the Armenian Church," which was printed in Shushi between 1903 and 1905, 357

was considered the first serious philological enterprise regarding Armenian rules, until many years later, during the days of H.H. Catholicos Vazken I, the exhaustive and final two-volume "Canon Book of Armenians" was written by expert intellectual Vazken Hagopian, and published in Yerevan in 1964 and 1971. Melik-Tankian also published "The Grammar of Modern Armenian," in 1893.

"The Rights of the Armenian Church,"

Without a doubt, this study by Melik-Tankian was greatly valued in its time, being the first publication that revealed and authoritatively presented to the public Otznetzi Hayrabed's "Cannonbook." However, according to the appreciation of Vazken Hagopian, the book "primarily contains groups of rules, but does not fully contain 'The Cannonbook.'" Hagopian should have taken into consideration that Melik-Tankian's study, being a seminal study, must be considered an invaluable work. It was followed 10 years later by Bishop Arsen Ghldjian's "Canon Book of Armenians", printed in Tiflis in 1914. It is necessary to take into consideration that V. Hagopian had the opportunity and knowledge, so many years later, to study a large number of handwritten archives. And of course he was going to find the abovementioned works lacking. In his words, "and none of them come even close to presenting an approximate picture of the 'Cannonbook,' its structure and the subject matters that it contains." Patriarch Toranian did not use Melik-Tankian's or Ghldjian's works that were available to him when he wrote "Azkabadoum," "preferring to use the version that was hand-copied in 1831, and which was housed at the St. Khach Church in Skudar," Hagopian has stated. But it would be more correct to say that Ormanian had always preferred to use earlier primary sources in his studies before he consulted secondary sources. In the final analysis however, the prize should go to Prelate Melik-Tankian, the first writer, who, revealing the ancient Cannonbook by putting his legal knowledge to work, was the first to attempt to put the Cannonbook on the desks of future researchers, among whom Vazken Hagopian was the most proficient scientist.

358

FAMILY OATH

1. Ayp, Pen, Kim, Ta, Yetch, Za, Eh, Et, To, Zhe, Ini, Lun, Khe, Dza, Gen, Ho, Tza, Ghat, Djeh, Men, He, Nou, Sha, Vo, Cha, Beh, Cheh, Ra, Se, Ve, Duin, Re, Tzo, Uin, Pur, Ke, Yev, O, Fe

², ´, ¶, ¸, º, ¼, ¾, À, Â, Ä, Æ, È, Ê, Ì, Î, Ð, Ò, Ô, Ö, Ø, Ú, Ü, Þ, à, â, ä, æ, è, ê, ì, î, ð, ò, ô, ö, ø, ¢, ú, ü

2. We are the God-given sacred letters. There are 39 of us. And the One God is with us. The forty sacred witnesses vow, with strictly pure blood, and Armenian heart, that:

3. I (Name of husband) will be a good husband ... and will take care and provide for her until death.

4. I (name of wife) will be a good and obedient wife ... and with the good-natured joys of family, will keep my true promise until death

5. It is the wife who builds the home, It is the wife who ruins the home -- especially here in America.

6. There is a woman behind every successful man, Similarly a woman behind every destroyed man.

359

7. How I wish you would keep your promises and these 39 sacred letters and use them for reading, writing, and teach them to your children, and God will love you. Hampartzoum

8. I am 94 years old, I have been married for 65 years, and my experience adds up to thousands.

9. The only way to build a firm home-nest: Don't be like a hatchet always pointing toward you, but be like a saw, which goes equally toward you and toward us: singleness of purpose and joint liability.

10. My wish to this precious couple: May God protect them from dangers; and at present to grant them health, love, togetherness, family joy, good luck, success and obedient children.

This new, unadulterated Armenian marital ceremony will be verified and approved by those who have come to witness this solemn occasion.

11. We didn't come to America to proliferate Americans but to be like the "Jewish;" to be America's best friend and at the same time remain Armenian!

360

Friday, September 12, 1980

KOURKEN YANIKIAN MUST BE SET FREE

Yanikian is also the latest victim of Turkish diplomacy. The country that has presented stern warnings against his release, the Republic of Turkey, is trying to make the parole board believe that Yanikian is a very dangerous murderer and his release would be an encouragement for more murders in the future.

Turkish obstructionism can only induce nausea, and defiles the principles of American jurisprudence.

We protest against this violation of human rights and the diplomatic obstructionism going on within the realm of criminal law.

It is imperative that Kourken Megerdich Yanikian be set free, so that the noble principles of the American people are respected.

NOTES IN THE MARGINS

1. Let us be hopeful that in the future we shall see great days together, since the two political parties are showing light and faith in the pages of their newspapers. I hope I won't be disappointed. Ask any elder person from the Province of Kharpert, and you will hear, with a pierced heart, that they saw numerous corpses strewn in the vicinity of the villages. I am certain that they will gladly recount their stories to the political parties. 362

2. I saw mounds of Armenian bones in Der-Zor. The memory of those bones has shattered not only my heart but has caused pain to millions.

Der-Zor cheollerindeh Gunesh parlior, Osmanli eskeri ghourshoun yaghlior, Ermeni mahajeeri yaman aghlior, Dini bir oghrouna gidan ermeni.

In the hot desert of Der-Zor the sun is shining, The Ottoman soldier is greasing his bullets. The Armenian refugees are weeping intensely, The Armenians who are clinging to their faith.

The brave-hearted Soghomon Tehlirian had Tashnagtzoutioun behind him; this man (Yanikian) has the entire Armenian nation.

Those who want to sleep with a restful heart should come to the help of such a brave- hearted individual.

NOTES IN THE MARGINS

Those who want to sleep with a restful heart should come to the help of such a brave- hearted individual. Remember Der-Zor and the Armenian bones.

Der-Zor cheollerindeh Gunesh parlior, Osmanli eskeri ghourshoun yaghlior, 363

Ermeni mahajeeri yaman aghlior, Dini bir oghrouna gidan ermeni.

In the hot desert of Der-Zor the sun is shining, The Ottoman soldier is greasing his bullets. The Armenian refugees are weeping intensely, The Armenians who are clinging to their faith.

The brave-hearted Soghomon Tehlirian had Tashnagtzoutioun behind him; this man (Yanikian) has the entire Armenian nation. Both are appreciated.

Full of emotions, we twin brothers and the entire Chitjian family, offer a present over the coffin of our brother. With our good wishes and signature, perhaps it would be possible to secure his freedom. Remember Soghomon Tehlirian who killed a dog - a big dog -- and by his vengeful act gladdened the Armenian nation. Kourken Yanikian killed two dogs. Thus if you measure it, they are equivalent. Let us save this esteemed person so that the door for revenge opens for the community.

364

GEORGE DEUKMEJIAN SEVERS HIS TIES WITH THE A.N.C. OF TASHNAGTZOUTIOUN

Taking into consideration the fact that the Armenian Revolutionary Federation has decided to endorse sitting President Clinton, Democrat in the forthcoming presidential elections in the United States, George Deukmejian, 35th Governor of California, deeming this act incomprehensible, has decided to sever his ties with the Armenian National Committee (ANC). Here is his letter:

ARMENIAN NATIONAL COMMITEE OF AMERICA 888 17Th Street, N.W. Washington, D.C. 2006

Dear Sir, For over 35 years Senator Bob Dole has acted as a strong leader, ally and friend of the Armenian community. President Clinton has occupied the position of President for four years, and his record regarding the Armenian Case and issues that are of concern to the Armenian people has been lukewarm.

It is incomprehensible that the Armenian National Committee is supporting President Clinton and not Senator Dole.

Why would any Senator or Congressman be positively inclined toward the Armenian National Committee of America, when the Armenian National Committee is not supporting Senator Bob Dole, the best friend the Armenians have had in Congress for 35 years?

I herewith demand that you remove my name from your mail and fax list of donors.

Sincerely, George Deukmejian 35th Governor of California

(Copies to the regional offices of the Armenian National Committee.)

Note: "That's all we needed. In my advanced old age, should I believe this or not? I wish I were blind and never saw it and read it. Unbelievable but true." Hampartzoum

365

I have been present at this monument every April 24, from the time they started building it to today. Over ten thousand Armenians have gathered, but with cold hearts and in a splintered state.

The meaning of this monument is that it arouses memories of a sad past.

366

ASBAREZ' MASALAS

Recently, the narrow-minded "Asbarez" published a long-winded article in its pages, according to which, we have slandered the Armenians of Lebanon. This is thrice a calumny. We had simply and SOLELY mentioned the well-known robbery committed by the Lebanon Prelacy.

We are still waiting for the Prelacy's final announcement that was to be published...

"Asbarez" suffers from belly aches and colitis when it comes to "Nor Gyank," which publishes under the motto of Truth and Patriotism. The narrow-minded daily is ready to publish any drivel against us.

The "Asbarez" article mentions Vartkes Aghamanougian, who together with his brother Varoujan (an old friend) is conscientiously in the business of selling refrigerators and other home appliances. This same Vartkes, during a conversation with our friends in early Spring, had stated, among other things, that "the same cemetery plots in Bourj Hamoud were being sold to more than one family..."

As for shoe-repairman Misag Tarpinian, who dredges up strange masalas against us, we say the adage well known in literature: Shoemaker, don't rise above your shoes.

NOR GYANK

367

THE (APPALLING) AFTERMATH Winston Churchill

...The Great war had carried them through hideous slaughters to the fairest and broadest hope they had ever known; and then abruptly laid them -- it may well be forever -- in the dust. The age-long misfortunes of the Armenian race have arisen mainly from the physical structure of their home. Upon the lofty tableland of Armenia, stretching across the base of the Asia Minor Peninsula, are imposed a series of mountain ranges having a general direction east and west. The valleys between these mountains have from time immemorial been the pathways of every invasion or counterattack between Asia Minor in the west and Persia and Central Asia in the east. In antiquity the Medes, the Persians and Romans; in the early centuries of the Christian Era the Persian Sassanids and Eastern Roman Empire; and in the middle ages successive of Mongols and Turks -- Seljukli and Osmanli -- invaded, conquered, partitioned, yielded and reconquered the rugged regions in which an ill-starred race strove ceaselessly for life and independence. And after the rise of Russia to power the struggle for the possession of the Armenian regions, as containing the natural frontiers of their own domains, was continued by Russia, Persia and the Ottoman Empire.

At the moment the Great War began Armenia, divided between Russia and Turkey, repressed by force or actual massacre, had no defense but secret societies and no weapons but intrigue and assassination. The war drew upon them a new train of evils. After the Balkan wars the Pan-Turks cast away both 'Ottomanization' and 'Turkification" as means for recreating the State. They attributed the disasters which the Turkish Empire had sustained in part to the opposition of the non-Turkish races in their midst. In blunt but significant language they concluded that these races 'were not worth considering; they were worst than encumbrances; they could go to the devil.' The re-created State for which patriotic Turks hoped must be formed by Turks alone. The goal, if attainable, could be reached only by a long road and hard work. The sooner the Turkish people set out about it in deadly earnest, the better. The Turks took this road 1912 onwards; and the fact that they had done so went long unrecognized in Europe. The Armenians were, however, better informed. They saw that the incorporation of the Moslem areas of Caucasia in a great Turkish State would, if carried to achievement, place the Armenian 368

Plateau, including Russian Armenian, under Turkish sovereignty and jeopardize the whole future of their race. The outbreak of the Great War brought these issues to a head. The Turkish Government in furtherance of their own aim tried to secure Armenian support of Russian Armenians. A grim alternative was presented to the Armenian leaders. Should they throw their national weight as far as it lay in their power on the side of Russia or of Turkey, or should they let their people be divided and driven into battle against each other? They took the remarkable decision that if war should come, their people in Turkey and in Russia should do their duty to their respective Governments. They thought it better to face fratricidal strife in the quarrels of others than to stake their existence upon the victory of either side.

When Turkey attacked Russian-Armenian, the Czar's Government, fearing that a successful defense of Caucasia by Armenians would dangerously inflame the nationalist aspirations of the race, conveyed hundred and fifty thousand conscripts to the Polish and Galician fronts and brought other Russian troops to defend Armenian hearths and homes in Caucasia. Few of these hundred and fifty thousand Armenian soldiers survived the European battles or were able to return to Caucasia before the end of the war. This was hard measure. But worse remained. The Turkish war plan failed. Their offensive against Caucasia in December 1914 and January 1915 was defeated. They recoiled in deep resentment. They accused the Armenians of the Turkish Eastern districts of having acted as spies and agents on behalf of Russia, and of having assailed the Turkish the lines of communication. These charges were probably true; but true or false, they provoked a vengeance which was also in accord with deliberate policy. In 1915 the Turkish government began and ruthlessly carried out the infamous general massacre and deportation of Armenians in Asia Minor. Three or four hundred thousand men, women, and children escaped into Russian territory and others into Persia or Mesopotamia; but the clearance of the race from Asia Minor was about as complete as such an act, on a scale so great, could well be. It is supposed that one and a quarter millions of Armenians were involved, of whom half perished. There is no reasonable doubt that this crime was planned and executed for political reasons. The opportunity presented itself for clearing Turkish soil of a Christian race opposed to all Turkish ambitions, cherishing national ambitions that could only be satisfied at the expense of Turkey, and planted between Turkish and Caucasian Moslems. It may well be that the British attack on the Gallipoli Peninsula stimulated the merciless fury of the Turkish Government. Even, thought the Pan-Turks, if Constantinople were to fall and Turkey lost the war, the clearance would have been effected and a permanent advantage for the future of the Turkish race would be granted.

The arrival of the Grand Duke Nicholas in the Caucasus at the beginning of 1916, his masterly capture of Erzeroum in February 1916, and his conquests of Turkish territory in North- Eastern Asia Minor revived Armenian hopes. The entry of the United States raised them higher. But the Russian Revolution quenched this flicker. It is not possible here to follow the tangled 369

conflicts of the Georgians, Armenians and Tartars which followed. Early in 1918 the Russian Army of the Caucasus abandoned the front in Asia minor and dissolved into armed rabble struggling to entrain for home. The Russians had gone. The Turks had not yet come. A desperate effort was made by the remaining Armenian manhood to defend their country. The Armenian elements of the Russian army therefore held together, and with the help of volunteers succeeded for a time in holding back the Turkish advance. Their hundred and fifty thousand soldiers were already dead or scattered, and they could never muster more than 35,000 men. The Treaty of Bredt-Litvosk in February 1918 was the signal for a general Turkish advance eastward. The Armenian line was overwhelmed; and by May not only had the Turks recovered the districts occupied by the Grand Duke, but they had taken the districts of Batum, Kars, and Ardahan and were preparing to advance to the Caspian. Meanwhile the great Allies strode forward. British, French and United States troops beat down the German armies in France. The Anglo-Indian armies conquered Mesopotamia, Palestine and Syria. At the very moment when the Turks had reached the goal in Caucasian for which they had run such risks and to which they had waded through crime and slaughter, their whole State and structure fell prostrate. The Armenian people emerged from the Great war scattered, extirpated in many districts, and reduced through massacre, enforced deportations adopted as an easy system of killing, by at least a third. Out of a community of about two and a half millions, three-quarters of a million men, women, and children had perished. But surely this was the end.

The earlier miseries and massacres of the Armenians have been made familiar to the British people, and indeed to the Liberal world, by the fame and eloquence of Mr. Gladstone. Opinions about them differed, one school dwelling upon the sufferings and the other about their failings. But at any rate in contrast to the general indifference with which the fortunes of Eastern and Middle- Eastern peoples were followed by the Western democracies, the Armenians and their at tribulations were well known throughout England and the United States. This field of interest was lighted by the lamps of religion, philanthropy and politics. Atrocities perpetrated upon Armenians stirred the ire of simple and chivalrous men and women spread widely about the English-speaking world. Now was the moment when at last the Armenians would receive justice and the right to live in peace in the national home. Their persecutors and tyrants had been laid low by war or revolution. The greatest nations in the hour of their victory were their friends, and would see them righted.

It seemed inconceivable that the five great Allies would not be able to make their will effective. The reader of these pages would however be under no illusions. By the time the conquerors in Paris reached the Armenian question their unity was dissolved, their armies had disappeared and their resolves commanded naught but empty words. No power would take a mandate for Armenia. Britain, Italy, America, France looked at it and shook their heads. On March 12, 1920, the Supreme Council offered the mandate to the League of Nations. But the League, unsupported by men or money, promptly and with prudence declined. There remained the Treaty of Sèvres. On August the Powers compelled the Constantinople Government to 370

recognize an as yet undetermined Armenia as a free and independent State. Article 89 prescribed that Turkey must submit to 'the arbitration of the President of the United States of America the question of the frontier to be fixed between Turkey and Armenia in the vilayets of Erzeroum, Trebizond, Van and Bitlis, and to accept his decision thereupon, as well as any stipulation he may prescribe as to access of Armenia to the sea.' It was not until December 1920 that President Wilson completed the discharge of this high function. The frontier he defined gave Armenia virtually all the Turkish territory which had been occupied by Russian troops until they disbanded themselves under the influence of the Revolution; an area which, added to the Republic of Erivan, made an Armenian national homeland of nearly sixty thousand square miles.

So generous was the recognition in theory of Armenian claims that the Armenian and Greek population of the new State was actually outnumbered by Moslem inhabitants. Here was justice and much more. It existed however upon paper only. Already nearly a year before, in January 1920, the Turks had attacked the French in Cilicia, driven them out of the Marash district and massacred nearly fifty thousand Armenian inhabitants. In May Bolshevik troops invaded and subjugated the Republic of Erivan. In September, by collusion between the Bolsheviks and Turks, Erivan was delivered to the Turkish Nationalists; and as in Cilicia, another extensive massacre of Armenians accompanied the military operations. Even the hope that a small autonomous Armenian province might eventually be established in Cilicia under French protection was destroyed. In October France, by the Agreement of Angora, undertook to evacuate Cilicia completely. In the Treaty of Lausanne, which registered the final peace between Turkey and the Great Powers, history will search in vain for the word « Armenia ».

(Winston Churchill, The World Crisis, vol. 5, « The Aftermath » 1929). TURKS HAVE CONTINIOUSLY SLAUGHTERED ARMENIANS FOR CENTURIES... (Editorial, Nor Serount Monthly, April, 1981)

The history of the formulation and actualization of the murderous Turkish plan to erase the Armenian people is very old. The implementation of this evil and evil-born strategy is closely intertwined with the founding and development of the Ottoman Empire. The initial attempts for the policy of the annihilation of the Armenian people most likely began during the era when the semi-barbarian Seljuk races from the Asian Steps invaded Asia Minor and Armenia. Ertugrul was the leader of the Turkish-Seljuk races, while his son Osman was tasked with protecting the borders of the Seljuk state. Osman Beg, exploiting the disintegration of the Turkish-Seljuk state, declared his independence in 1299. Thus an entirely new state was formed which encompassed the territories of the Seljuk state. 371

This new state formed by Ertugrul's son Osman served as the fetus that gave birth to the future Turkish Empire. Therefore, traditionally Osman is considered to be the founder of a new state which was named the Ottoman Empire, and the Turks that lived within the borders were called Ottoman Turks. Thus, Turkishness gained power in Asia Minor, becoming the greatest catastrophe to the local inhabitants, especially the Armenians. Many are the examples chronicled in Armenian history and literature which testify that the atrocities committed by the Turks surpassed the cruelties perpetrated by the infamous Timur Lang. "We have a history, an 850-year-long history, as to how the Turk has treated us," wrote prominent Armenian author Raffi. There are of course many more testimonies on this matter in non-Armenian sources. Let us, however, stay away from these sources and be satisfied with the testimonies of Turkish historians themselves, who have brilliantly chronicled the systematic, that is to say, the recurring policy of annihilation that was institutionalized. 16th century historian Ibrahim Pechev writes the following regarding the merciless massacre of Armenians and the destruction of their homeland (1551-1554) during the reign of Sultan Suleiman the Law Giver. "The Ottoman forces reached a base called Shorakial and decided to camp there. This land was full of abundance. It contained many villages with well-cultivated fields. The terrain is mountainous. The victorious army destroyed and laid to ruin those well-healed villages, destroying buildings and flattening them. From there the army moved on toward... The city of Yerevan, which is the soul of the land... They set fire to everything. They burned and flattened them." According to the same historian, from there, the Ottoman army moved on and invaded Nakhichevan, Zankezour and Karapagh. "Unexpectedly, the atmosphere was so filled with dust that people could not even see one another; daylight turned into dark night. The population was destroyed and dispersed to such a degree that there was not even a hint of a human being all around. Only God knows the number of the dead and the wounded." In the beginning of the 17th century, another Turkish historian named Selinigi wrote: " According to the oldest tradition of the Ottomans, rulers must be merciless... Like a wolf attacking a heard of sheep, similarly they were greedily attacking the Armenians, looting and slaughtering the local populations." We can thus conclude that the genocidal Turkish policy of annihilation of the Armenians -- which surpassed the looting brigandage of Timur Lang -- is not new, according to the testimony of Turkish historians. In the 14th century, the Ottoman State promulgated the ideology of "Ottomanism," according to which all conquered peoples had to be Turkified -- thus, mechanically increasing the number of Turks. 372

In the 16th century, the Turkish Sultans conquered Mecca and Medina, the spiritual centers of the Islamic world, and proclaimed themselves Sultan-Caliph, that is to say, they now anointed themselves both as secular and spiritual leaders of the Muslim people. Indeed, it was in this era that the concept of "Pan-Islamism" was born, the purpose of which was, first and foremost, to use coercive methods to Islamize all Christians. Parallel to this, the concept of "Pan-Turkism" was formulated for the purpose of conquering and uniting the Turkic peoples of Central Asia, the Transcaucasus, the Northern Caucasus, Crimea and Near Volga under the auspices of the Turkish Empire established in Asia Minor. On the road to the realization of the plan of "Pan-Turkism," all obstacles were mercilessly annihilated. One of the main obstacles was the Armenian people, whose historical motherland was by "chance" located in the middle of countries inhabited by Muslim Turks. The ottoman Turks built many mosques and other Muslim centers in Armenia. The Koran stated that there is only the Muslim God, and those who believe in Him are Mohammedans, while all the Christians were branded as Kafirs-Gyavours, that is, "infidels." In 1662, at the instigation of the Imam of Van, the Turkish royal circles ordered the destruction of all churches Constantinople. The same order was sent to the provinces. The churches in Kars, Agn, and Shabin Karahissar were destroyed, while the St. Stepannos Church in Garin was converted into a mosque. Those who opposed these atrocities were tortured and burned by fire. Galvanized by a fever to destroy all traces of Armenian-ness in Armenia, they forcefully changed the names of all villages, mountains, valleys, Rivers, and other old Armenian names, and replaced them with new Turkish names. For example the city of Papoynk was changed to Bayazid (in honor of Sultan Bayazid), Alashgerd became Toprakgala, Sepasdia became Sevaz, the River Arman became Mouradchay, the Akhourian River became Arpachay, Lake Kegham (Sevan) became Keogchay, etc., etc. Even in official Ottoman documents, Etchmiadzin is called Ouchkilisseh. The Turkish State in all ways assisted, enthused, and encouraged the Muslim religious circles and the Gendarmes to secretly -- with the use of unheard of cruelties -- coerce Armenians to renounce their Christian faith and convert to Islam. All resisters were massacred. Another factor in the gradual annihilation of the Armenian people was the concept of "Devshirme," which literally means "child-gathering." Thousands of Armenian children were separated from their parents in the Armenian Provinces and were taken to Constantinople, where they were brought up and tutored as Turkish Muslims who were subsequently drafted to fill the ranks of the Janissary corps. From the first day Armenia came under occupation, the Ottoman Turks used most cruel methods to implement their policy of the annihilation of the Armenian people, by economical enslavement and exploitation, by forced assimilation or Islamization, by mass slaughter during wars, and intermittent assassinations during peacetime.

373

Therefore, the false interpretations promulgated by Turks, according to which the massacres of the Armenians in Turkey began only after Armenian revolutionary parties were formed and became active is a total lie, a transparent deception, and it doesn't have any historical foundation. No, never; again, no, never, because the Turkish State's doctrine of annihilating the Armenians has a long history stretching back centuries. The Armenian revolutionary organizations were formed in the 1890s, and thus it is an obvious fact that the Armenians hadn't even yet dreamt of forming revolutionary organizations, when the Ottoman State was already talking about and planning the liquidation and dissolution of the Armenian Nation. The concepts of "Pan-Islamism," and "Pan-Turkism" were the real factors, the active agents for this policy for Armenocide, and the Turks know this well. Yet despite knowing it, they hide it. But how long can they hide it? Let us move ahead. After looking at historical precedent, the Turks came to the conclusion that their method of coercion and partial massacres was inadequate to suppress the freedom-seeking spirit of the Armenians, to break down their resistance, and to dissolve and assimilate them within Ottoman Turks. Therefore, in the 1870s, the Turks pushed forward a new, unprecedented plan; that is to say, they moved from partial massacres to mass massacres. In 1878, bloody Abdul Hamid's Grand Vizier, Kiamil Pasha, spoke about this new Turkish plan to annihilate the Armenians. Bloody Abdul Hamid's military ally Kiamil Pasha, in his speech first touched upon the defeats they had suffered when Greeks, Serbs, Bulgarians, and other Balkan nations declared their independence, and stressed the idea that Turkey had never benefitted from these countries, and, on the contrary, "They were the first to raise arms against us." Subsequently, Kiamil Pasha announced that, "If we gave shelter in our bosom to snakes in the European side, we shouldn't commit the same stupid mistake in Asian Tajikistan. It is wise to annihilate -- to remove all those elements that one day can bring upon us the same danger, and provide an opportunity for foreign intervention and intrigue." He also mentioned that the interests of the English and the Turks totally overlapped, and that England and Turkey not only did not recognize the word "Armenia," but were ready "to smash the skulls of those who uttered that word." The Grand Vizier of the Ottoman State also stated that the national interests of Turkey and England demanded that "the states in Asia Minor under their jurisdiction remain free of opportunities for foreign intervention, and therefore, for the sake of that sacred idea, it is necessary, and the rights of the State demand it, that all these elements be eliminated." Abdul Hamid's Grand Vizier, Kiamil Pasha, considered the Western Armenians as the most significant "Suspicious element." Finally, simply and clearly Kiamil Pasha announced: "Therefore, we must eliminate and leave no trace of the Armenian Nation. And we lack nothing to accomplish this. We have all the tools ready -- Kurds, Circassians, Governors, Judges, Tax- collectors, and Gendarmes -- in other words, everything. We shall declare Jihad, and this would 374

be an easy war against a nation that possesses neither weapons, nor army, nor protectors. And in contrast, we have weapons, an army, and Europe's greatest state (England) is our ally and guarantor of our sovereignty over Asia Minor. And when the Armenian nation is annihilated and Christian Europe looks for co-religionists in Turkish Asia and doesn't find them, it will leave us in peace..." Yes, ungrateful Europe, and map-drawing United States, left alone the Turks who for centuries had hounded, pillaged and massacred Armenians. But the Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia will never leave the Turks alone -- until they make reparations to the Armenian people. Yes, Turkish individuals, through evil premeditation buried the Western Armenian People, the flag-bearers of civilization, and have lorded for the past 66 years over their ancestral habitat, as a gift granted to them by the Great Powers... Nonetheless, we repeat again that premeditated criminal acts are punished more severely, and no doubt Turkish individuals will be severely punished... Thank God the enemy didn't achieve its goal, that is to say, the Armenian people recently rose from the grave and came to life -- and how... Therefore, long live the vitality and brave-mindedness of the Armenian people. We wish light and peace to the undefeatable souls of the innocent victims of the calamitous April 24 Genocide.

375

NATIONAL NEWS By Levon Yergat

1. The Swiss Court, in response to the demand-threat from ASALA (Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia), set wounded prisoner Alex Yenikomeshian free, under the same terms they had set Suzy Mahserejian free on January 13, 1981. Alex Yenikomeshian arrived in Beirut the next day and was promptly arrested by the Lebanese police at the airport. Having prior knowledge of the arrest warrant, an armed group demanded the police release Yenikomeshian to them. The police obliged and released him, and today he is amongst his Secret Army friends safe and under care.

2. Thus the release of these two prisoners without charges proves the organizational powers of the Secret Army.

3. To take care of the needs of these two prisoners, an entity titled "Committee for the Defense of Armenian Political Prisoners" was formed in London, which, on its own, appealed to international organs and managed to visit them in jail, and attended the trials. The committee has already raised $300,000 for this purpose, which came from all Armenian factions and church members. The United States participated as well.

4. The Los Angeles Times, in its Sunday, January 25, 1981 issue, gave front page coverage to ASALA Army's anti-Turkish terrorist acts. The author of the article, Mr. Doyle McManus, wrote at length about the 1915 genocide (the destruction of 1,500,000 Armenians) and forced deportations organized by the Turkish Government. ASALA, which was formed as a response to these acts, with their terrorist acts against Turkish State representatives, are demanding their lands back, nine tenth of which is under Turkish rule. He reports that Tashnagtzoutioun has formed its own terrorist group named "Justice Commandos of the Armenian Genocide," which, says the reporter, has provided stiff competition, with both organizations often claiming responsibility for the same acts. The writer characterizes ASALA as one of the best organized terrorist movements in the world that has assassinated 12 Turkish diplomats without any members getting caught. The writer also mentions the release of Suzy Mahserejian from Swiss prison, and also writes about the wounded prisoner Alex Yenikomeshian. He stresses the existence of the just cause of the Armenian people and the Turkish denialist policy aimed against them. This long article that appeared in the Los Angeles

376

Times has special significance because it spreads information to the general public and explains that the terrorist and damaging acts undertaken by ASALA are motivated by a just cause.

5. In another article on page 11 in the Los Angeles Time, reporter Bruce Keppel, reporting on the latest anti-Turkish attacks in New York and Los Angeles, also mentions Kurken Yanikian's 1973 attacks against two Turkish Consuls. He too underlines that these acts are responses to the 1915 Turkish genocide of 1,500,00 Armenians and the forced deportation of the survivors from their ancestral homeland. Both writers stress that nine tenth of Armenian lands are under Turkish rule.

6. We received ASALA's official organ, the "Haiasdan" monthly's third issue, published in the Armenian, English, Arabic, and French languages. It includes a rich collection of articles and news on national, political and international issues -- especially about the bomb explosion in Geneva. To subscribe, call Levon Yergat: 722-6549.

7. With great joy we welcome the publication "Massis" weekly, the official organ of the Hunchag party (Social Democrat Hunchag Party), in Los Angeles. Within the field of Armenian national and political life, the presence and opinions of the Hunchag Party together with the other political parties, is a necessity, especially in these times, when the urgency of Pan- Armenianism is an absolute necessity has become clerer. That's because international diplomacy has surrounded the world with dark clouds, especially the legal case of the just territorial demands of the Armenian people, which is surrounded by traitors and plots visible and invisible. With the addition of "Massis" weekly, the Armenian community will now be able to learn about the opinions of all four Armenian political parties. Together with the non political party press, they can frame (compare, Ed.) the issue that is the sole guarantor of the survival of both the community and the Armenian people in general: the Armenian Cause -- the conundrum (puzzle, Ed.) of liberating our lands. We have great respect for its esteemed editor, Dr. Haroutioun Sagherian's experience, and his honest, healthy, and modern approaches to national issues, which were frequently published in "Spyurk" weekly (in Beirut.) We sincerely wish success to the Hunchag Party and also to Dr. Haroutioun Sagherian, Editor of "Massis," the official organ of the party, as they perform the responsibilities entrusted to them, which is a sacred duty, so that they patiently perform their duties for the benefit of the just cause of the entire Armenian people.

8. On Monday, January 26, a bomb was discovered next to the Swiss embassy gate in Los Angeles. The police arrived in time and aborted the explosion. An anonymous person called the Associated Press and informed that the "October 3" terrorist organization was taking responsibility for it, and demanded the release of their jailed comrade, Alex Yenikomeshian, from prison. The caller has also added, "We didn't want the explosion to go off." The reporter

377

for the Los Angeles Times had also mentioned that many other explosions aimed at Swiss companies in a number of European countries were motivated by this same issue. The news was also broadcast on television channels 7 and 4.

9. On Wednesday, January 27, a bomb set up by ASALA's "October 3" terrorist group at the Swiss Airlines offices in Milan caused great damage to the office, and also the surrounding homes and vehicles. The purpose of the explosion was a threat with a demand for the release of prisoner Alex Yenikomeshian.

10. On January 25, with great fanfare the 50th Anniversary-Jubilee of talented actor, director, writer and national operative Manuel Maroutian's activities was celebrated at the Wilshire Ebell theatre, organized by seven Armenian cultural organizations. In the true sense of the word, it was a glorious event in honor of Mr. Maroutian and his dedicated wife, the esteemed Rose Maroutian. (We will cover this event separately later.)

11. According to information received from Switzerland, it is probable that the 2nd Armenian Congress would take place either in April or in May. (The first one took place in September of 1979, in Paris.) The organizing committee is in final preparations for the analysis of the plans entrusted to them. The legal conditions under which one could participate in the Congress will in due time be disseminated to the public in the press.

12. In the January-February issue of "Haiasdan," the official press organ of ASALA, we read the following salutation addressed to the Justice Commandos: "We salute the operation performed by the Justice Commandos in Australia -- regarding the news of the assassination of a Turkish diplomat." "It is joyous to see that the youth is awakening and realizing the necessity to move from words to deeds." On this happy occasion, ASALA calls upon them to undertake the struggle together, in order not to repeat the grave past mistakes of the political parties. And stressing once again with a high-mindedness and nobility befitting sincere revolutionaries, they call upon them thus: "We offer you our sincere friendship; we extend our hands with the clean hearts of revolutionaries; we are ready to help and support your struggle every way we can." We are proud of the stance of such noble young revolutionaries. Yes, they should unite; and let us be certain that they no doubt will ... and obstacles shall vanish.

13. In its latest communiqué, the Committee for the Liberation of Yanikian announced the date of the Parole Board hearing. At 10 o'clock on Wednesday, February 04, 1981, a date decided on by the Parole Board, a hearing took place in the interrogation room of the Chino Prison. Attorney William Paparian took part in this session as the representative of the committee. The three officials from the central Parole Board in Sacramento responsible for conducting the session for reasons unknown to us did not show up. 378

Thus, after those present had waited for 4 hours, it was announced that the session had been postponed for a month. According to reliable sources, the Parole Board had continuously received 8-9 letters from the Turkish government which contained filthy and insulting (cussing, Ed.) words, such as "Armenian dogs," addressed to Yanikian and especially the Armenian people. The committee will use all necessary means to get hold of at least one of these letters. Dear compatriots, so long as the Turks won't face in words and deeds the will of the entire Armenian nation as one fist, so long as selfish and separatist profit seekers destroy the achievement of that unity, we, the real Armenians, the selfless Armenians, are ready to accept and undertake all sacrifices.

We are happy to announce that the London-based "Committee for the Defense of Armenian Political Prisoners" has already started to implement actions for which it was founded. It has immediately appealed to the Red Cross, Amnesty International, and the Committee for the Protection of Human Rights, to help in the release of Yanikian, taking into consideration the fact that Yanikian was granted the right to be released from jail. However, because of the inhumane demands of the Turkish Government, the American Government caved in. It is well known that this same committee, by applying to the abovementioned international bodies, secured the release of Suzy Mahserejian from a Geneva jail. They were also involved in the Alex Yenikomeshian case, who was similarly set free. We offer words of gratitude to all Armenian organizations, committees, unions and individuals who selflessly work for the successful resolution of the Armenian Case. We are hopeful that the "Committee for the Defense of Armenian Political Prisoners," will inform us of the work it is doing to secure the release of Hrayr Kilinjian, a jailed victim due to Turkish slander. The entire Armenian nation wishes them success for the sacred mission that they have undertaken.

379

EXAMPLES OF TURKISH CIVILIZATION

An Armenian woman survivor of the genocide who was saved by and lived with Bedouins (desert dwelling Arab inhabitants).

Melika Chamandarian recounts: "We were deported on June 22, 1915 on carts as far as Malatya, and thereafter by walking for 8 hours across mountains and valleys, stepping over thousands of corpses, on September 1, I and my sister reached Hama... From our large dynasty, I was the only one who miraculously survived.

After the tragedy of Marash, Armenians took shelter in the American Missionary building. 380

Armenians who survived the genocide.

Elderly Armenian women who miraculously survived the massacres.

Unrepeatable-unspeakable Turkish barbarism: With an ax they have severed the right arm of the woman (source of our roots), the left leg of the little boy, and have crushed both legs of the man.

Armenians who were deported in order to be annihilated -- camped on the shores of the Euphrates (under tents).

1500 Marashtzi orphans who were gathered in Marash by the American Relief organization after the genocide.

Survivors from 800 Armenians from the Sheik Mouhin village in Hawran (Syria).

Editorial

GOVERNOR DEUKMEJIAN'S SUCCESSES

Governor George Deukmejian's first year as governor of the most populous state in the United States has been analyzed and examined in order to scrutinize the path he has taken and the successes he has achieved. The republican governor, the son of a minority group, from his first day began to encounter great difficulties and opposition, which was not only due to political party competitions and political gamesmanship, but also because of the budget deficit left behind by the previous governor.

Since the ship of state is being run by senators and assemblymen from the democratic party, it is understandable that Deukmejian was going to encounter powerful opposition, because 381

the conservative and responsible strategy that he adopted could not be in agreement with the free-spending democrats, whose leader, former governor Jerry brown, had instilled a spirit in the state that was leading a rich state such as California toward probable bankruptcy. Therefore, when Deukmejian was elected governor, the state was on the road to ruin. And despite this fact, the democratic assemblymen did not want to totally agree to the new austerity measures and the strong vow by the new governor not to raise taxes.

Thus, the battleground for debates and skirmishes was laid out from day one. There is nothing strange in this phenomenon, and very little to be concerned about. But when the state's economic crises and the proposals to solve it are taken into consideration, then, Deukmejian's wise approach, his mature proposals, as well as the irresponsible behavior shown by democrats become evident. The people responsible for the tragic condition of the state not only did not admit their mistakes and faults, but also wanted to scuttle the wise proposals to solve it.

The governor remained steadfast in his decision and position. He did not succumb to the pressure and blows. He remained sure of his consultants' suggestions and plans, and he showed that confidence by remaining loyal to his election promises. He did not raise taxes, and squeezed the stomach of the state that wanted to enlarge. He lowered expenses until the financial crisis began to ease. And the solutions adopted by him did not please the democrats, who, in order to appease certain sectors of society, wanted to spend more than they had. And this was the same mistake that caused the downfall of Jerry brown.

Governor Deukmejian came out of the ongoing battle healthy and strong, and in a way saved the dissolution of California, and instead of financial bankruptcy, he accumulated a large surplus in the coffers of the government. And now, of course, even his staunchest and unyielding opponents are offering their appreciation and admiration for the great successes that the republican governor has achieved.

It is results that convince people and members of government, as was the case on this occasion. The fact that the George Deukmejian was a trustworthy governor was stamped on the minds of people here and elsewhere.

"The new governor succeeded where former governor Ronald Reagan had failed -- he stopped the growth of California's spending. Instead of raising taxes and spending more like Ronald Reagan, governor Deukmejian battled against the democratic leadership and rejected the proposal to raise taxes, and simultaneously lowered government spending. For the sake of history, we must say that Deukmejian has achieved more successes than Reagan." Opinions such as the above are being offered regarding governor George Deukmejian's abilities and successes. While he, staying loyal to his ethnic roots and election promises, has and still continues to appoint many Armenians to high positions, once again showing that everything is possible in

382

this country when an individual has the requisite talents and is willing to work hard to achieve his purpose.

We are proud of the successes achieved by our governor, and are certain that the coming years will be equally fruitful.

383