There was a reason I did Birthright
Armenia in 2015; a reason I didn’t do it a year later or earlier. I felt that I
needed to be in Armenia for the occasion of the centennial of the Armenian
genocide, and the Birthright Armenia program was my best chance of being in
Armenia for it. It is perhaps a little surprising there weren’t more Birthright
Armenia volunteers there at the time; if memory serves me correctly there were
maybe a little over twenty. The timing of my coming to Armenia was also
interesting because two of my cousins just happened to also be in Armenia at
the same time. My cousin Armen was there for his sister-in-law’s wedding (he
married a woman from Yerevan), and my cousin Raffi goes back and forth from the
United States and Armenia rather often because he runs a record company there,
Pomegranate Music. I guess the biggest miracle was that I was there, since my cousins get to visit Armenia far more often than I do. The picture you see above is the only one of the three of us together, sharing a meal at a nice little restaurant called Teryan Kebab. What would my grandfather Suren think
if he were alive to see three of his grandsons in Armenia on the centennial of
the genocide? It almost felt like some higher power was at work to make that happen. Fate, perhaps. It did illustrate one thing perfectly; Turkey failed, indeed.
The night of April 23rd was dominated by System of a Down’s free concert in Republic Square. I wrote a bit about this concert on the blog before. It was a powerful thing to be present for. The whole concert is available on YouTube for anyone who wants to see it. Sure, not the same thing as being there, but it will give you an idea of what the concert was like. An outdoor concert in a thunderstorm. As I wrote previously on this blog,
"Yes, everything came in full circle when I was lucky enough to be in Armenia as a volunteer teaching English when this concert took place. Standing out there in Republic Square in Yerevan in the pouring rain, thunder roaring in the clouds, lightning streaking across the sky, listening to the music of my early teens, I felt complete. Alive. And that was our revenge for the genocide. Despite their best efforts, we were alive."
Birthright Armenia had a party with a live feed of the concert projected on the wall in their office, but with the actual concert right down the street, it wasn’t long before I bailed on the party and joined the crowd in the rain. It was something that was only ever going to happen once, and I’m glad I made the most of it. Indeed, I picked a good time to be in Armenia.
April 24th is the
anniversary of the day the Ottoman authorities rounded up the Armenian
intellectuals to massacre them. This isn’t actually the day the genocide really
began, as the siege on Van began a few days earlier, and one could argue the process of genocide itself started in the 1890’s with the Hamidian Massacres, if not when the Seljuk Turks first invaded. But the 24th was when it
really went underway. It may seem strange to mark the centennial of the deaths
of 1.5 million people with anything resembling a celebration, but really, it
was a celebration of Turkey’s failure to complete the genocide. 100 years
later, Armenia was free and independent, it’s culture and people alive and
well. That was something to celebrate.
April 24th, 2015
On April 24th, 2015, I
had an interesting, if not completely pleasant, day. Luckily I kept a journal. I left the apartment I was
staying in at around 4:30 pm and took one of the minibuses prevalent across
Armenia called marshrutkas. My plan was to hang out at the Birthright Armenia office
for a while and take advantage of their wi-fi, which as you may recall from one
of my previous posts, my host family did not have. Later that evening all of
the Birthright Armenia volunteers were going to participate in a torch-lit
procession from Republic Square to the Tsitsernakaberd Armenian genocide
memorial, something that happens every year (except 2020, sadly). It was
pouring down rain, and after we were around halfway to Republic Square and the
Birthright Armenia office, the marshrutka stopped in the middle of the road and
the driver forced everyone off. I don’t even think they gave us our money back.
Something had made the driver furious. I never found out why, thanks to the
language barrier. So, I ended up walking to the nearest metro station to take a
subway train the rest of the way, getting completely soaked in the process. Fun
times. I wonder if it was engine trouble. I’ll never really know. When I got to
the Birthright Armenia, lo and behold it was closed. But I was able to get into
a nearby kitchen area in the building, with a weak wi-fi signal, and take my
shoes and socks off to dry.
When the office opened, we listened
to a long lecture by a Danish genocide expert who’d examined the Ottoman
archives, which while long since largely wiped clean of anything proving their
guilt in the genocide still holds valuable census data and such. After this
interesting lecture, we were taken outside to Republic Square, where we were handed
candles in glass cups. This presented a nice photo opportunity, of course.
Now
I hadn’t been told what the torch-lit procession was going to entail, exactly. I
was under the impression that this march might be an hour or so long. The
memorial isn’t really that far from Republic Square, if you go the direct
route. A couple months later I walked there directly from Republic Square and
it did take me around an hour. But no, actually the route they take for the
procession is quite possibly the longest route through Yerevan you could
possibly take. It went on for many hours. I had been following one of
the secretaries from Birthright Armenia named Diana, but eventually she ran off
with a friend somewhere and left me lost in the crowd. It probably wasn't on purpose. I had the phone number
of another volunteer, a young woman from Chile named Constanza, but she didn’t
pick up either. So, I was lost. Looking back now, I really wish I hadn’t been so frightened and
angry as I was about it at the time, but I found being alone in this crowd,
having no idea where the crowd was going, very upsetting. From then on, I would
not see another familiar face until I returned back to the apartment. At least
if I were ever to find myself in Armenia on an April 24th again, I
would know what I was in for. Part of it was just the fear and anxiety of being
alone in another country with a language barrier. Even if I had been in Armenia
for a couple months by this point it wouldn’t have been so frightening to me,
but I had only been there a little over three weeks.
Along
the way, sights I saw included cars driving by with Turkish and Azerbaijani
flags sticking out the backs of the trunk and dragging in the mud, which I
found amusing. Some people might think flag abuse is a little too vindictive
for their tastes. But Armenia has been through enough torment due to these two
countries that I think it’s perfectly justified.
At
another point we passed a restaurant which had the flaming numbers “1915” on
its roof. This was pretty awesome looking, certainly a highlight on this long
trek.
It felt like a long, long time
before we finally reached the memorial, which by the time I reached it, maybe 2
in the morning, was surrounded by a wall of flowers taller than I am. I took
the picture you see above by holding my phone up above my head. By the time I
reached the memorial I was no longer full of fear. I had stuck through the
entire march through sheer willpower, and the memory of my ancestors who had
suffered and survived a century ago. I thought of those poor souls, who
suffered a million times more than I ever have. It felt good to complete the
march.
After
placing a flower at the memorial, I was on my own getting home. Lost in another
country in the middle of the night. How fun. The fear returned. In desperation
I tried to call my cousin Raffi but he had been sleeping and advised me to find
a taxi. So, with my legs already aching like they’d been in a leg lock, I
wandered through Yerevan for another half hour or so before finding a taxi
driver, who charged me 2000 drams to get back to the Arabkir District; an
overcharge, but what was I to do? At any rate, I don’t
think I’ve ever walked so much in a single day in all my life.
All that said, I’m still glad I was
there for the occasion. I wish I had enjoyed myself a bit more at the time and
that it had been more of a positive experience. But, that’s just how it was for
me personally at the time. If only I could go back, knowing what I know now. 2020 will be the first year in decades that the Armenian Genocide
hasn’t been commemorated with gatherings and marches, thanks to the coronavirus
pandemic. It will instead be mainly an online affair. It’s unfortunate, but I
suppose it’s not worth risking lives to commemorate it.
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