The Armenian Genocide is arguably one of the biggest parts of recent Armenian history and without question the most devastating event the Armenian people have faced. The two times that I have visited the Dzitzernakapert memorial, I have left with tears streaming from my eyes. The pure and utter grief I feel from viewing the records from the museum of the attempted annihilation of my people is too much for me to hold in. It makes me wonder how such cruelty and inhumanity can even exist in the world.

And then I am soon reminded by the many crosses that our country bears that we are apparently a very dedicated Christian people. The sadness I feel then slowly turns into anger. Personally, it baffles me at how submissive people seem to act when it comes to religion. Despite pain, suffering, death, war, famine, disease, and genocide; people still have an undying love for God and their religion. How can people suffer through so much hardship and still bear to turn the other cheek. It seems to me that some Armenians may even just enjoy the bragging rights of being the first Christian nation. Although I know and understand the important role the Armenian church played in organizing Armenians when we had no other form of a strong Armenian community, it does not ring true today since we now have an independent nation and a great many diasporan Armenian organizations that unite our people outside of the homeland. The country is suffering economically and requires basic infrastructure and social programs like roads, schools, hospitals, street lighting, trash pick up, etc. Yet at any chance they can get, they build new churches everywhere. I appreciate the old churches we have for its historical and architectural value, but it just seems illogical to keep building new churches when the country needs money for many other things. The churches literally contribute nothing but false hope to the society; meanwhile building a school or hospital can impact a community for many generations to come.

My reasons for losing my faith I think are very simple and I am surprised there are not more Armenians like me. After seeing records and pictures of the genocide, I started raising questions to myself about morality. The usual questions came up of how bad things happen to good people; is it worth the suffering and pain if in the end an eternity of heaven is granted; until at last I thought of the existence of evil. I personally don’t think that any human can necessarily be what is considered “evil”. It’s always points of view and which side of the fence you’re sitting on. To me, someone being evil is someone who is sane and acts only to cause harm and devastation without concrete reason to their cause. With this in mind, I visited the genocide memorial and witnessed the accounts of what happened almost one hundred years ago. The only things I could think of was that I hope that there is no God, because if there is, he knew of what would happen, he witnessed what happened, he allowed it to happen, and he has yet to punish those responsible for it. If this God were to exist, he does not sound like the all powerful, knowledgable and loving God that people are told about. He sounds cruel, evil, and worse than the devil. If we are God’s children, and he punishes some with death and disease to teach others to live better, I don’t want that God. I find it incredibly difficult to think that any sane person on the face of this earth would even think to kill one of their children in order to teach the other. That’s why I don’t believe in any sort of deity or super natural powers, because I can’t even begin to imagine such evil existing and controlling everything in the universe. In politics, we praise democracy and freedom while we talk down against tyranny and dictators, but when the same instances of dictatorship and censorship are present in religion, we turn a blind eye to it and make exceptions for the church.

I didn’t write this blog to verbally harass Christianity or any other religion. I can understand and respect peoples reasons for being religious, spiritual, or having faith. Everybody is entitled to believe in anything they desire. I’m just bothered by those who claim to hold actual knowledge and truth of a supernatural deity without any real proof. I’m also bothered by those who claim to be religious, but are only religious because they were raised that way and have never actually sat down to think for themselves what they really believe. People should not have to wait and suffer in order to by chance get some kind compensation from a god. People should take hold of their own destiny and act to make their own lives better for themselves, not for some god. I’ve written this blog to express myself openly and freely as an Armenian atheist that is a proud member of the AYF. I want people to know that Armenians do not necessarily have to be tied down to Christianity and that we should embrace any religion, or non religion since there are some people that have even told me that an Armenian must be a Christian or else he/she is not an Armenian at all. We as a people need to progress and embrace a more secular approach to religion and do away with the traditional archaic ideologies.

Shant Mirzaians

It has been over a week that I’ve been “home”. A week of seeing friends and family that I hadn’t seen for six weeks, but the people and buildings I was missing the most were the people I lived with for six weeks and my homes that I had in Armenia. Instead of turning the radio on and listening to the new popular songs in Los Angeles I have a CD of songs that we would always sing in Armenia whether it be “Made in Armenia” by Grisho (our Gyumri theme song) or “Kharapaghtsi”. I know it sounds ridiculous for me as an individual who is fortunate enough to live the life I live, to be getting the education that I am getting, and to have all the comforts of the world to say that the only one thing I want is to live in a country with the second worst economy in the world. The difference between living in Los Angeles and Armenia is huge with the main one being you actually live there. You don’t live life to satisfy the quota that society has set for you, you live for you. My time in Armenia was short and I may be speaking too soon because six weeks isn’t enough to judge an entire country and judge the queries that the people have which cause them to leave. There is one moment in Armenia that I will never forget however cheesy it is… okay it is more like three separate events that build on each other to make one story.

The day that Arpa and I got the approval to go to Hamahaygagan Panagoum (ARF World Youth Camp) we were ecstatic, but at the same time reluctant to be leaving our kids… yes it was only a day early but it meant not spending an entire six hours with them and not getting to see their hantes on Friday. While saying goodbye Arpa and I were in a corner talking to two of her color boys, Asri and Ara, and Mihran from my color. We explained to them that we would be back in Shushi in four days and it wasn’t a goodbye but more of a see you later. When the boys found out that we were coming back they asked us where we were staying and when we replied that we had no idea Asri turned around with the utmost confidence and told us to not worry… he would find us so we could be reunited. Four long days later we were back in Shushi and while lined up to go inside the hotel Arpa and I spotted Mihran at the same exact time. Now the positions were switched, we were the campers and we had to listen to our khmpabeds (leaders). Mihran ran up and we started all excitedly talking about how we couldn’t believe that we were in Artsakh for less than one hour and already found each other… it was fate! As it turned out Mihran, who is fifteen years old, began working at the hotel three weeks before we stayed there. Mihran took us around the hotel and introduced us to his co-workers and boss, as his teachers that he had talked about for the last week, and in turn we took Mihran around to our friends from Hamahaygagan and introduced him as a participant of Youth Corps’ camp in Shushi. That night we went to sleep, woke up and went travelling, not really expecting to see any of our Jambar kids except for Mihran… surprise surprise when we got to the hotel kids were waiting for us outside. Mihran even went and picked up Asri and Ara so Arpa could see them again, and of course sing for us. The four days we were in Shushi our kids would come visit us every single day and would always ask for people in our group that had not returned. Everyone at Hamahaygagan knew that if there were kids outside the hotel waiting for anybody to call Arpa and I because they were probably the Jambar kids. It was then that I felt the power of Youth Corps. It was at that moment when I was sitting outside the hotel with a few of the Jambar girls talking when I realized that I might have been there for two weeks, I might have only known the kids for such a short amount of time but they will never forget those two weeks and I know I won’t either because I learned so much from the yerekhek (children). Leaving Shushi the second time was bittersweet… we were happy we returned to Artsakh we got to see the kids outside the classroom and hear their thoughts on Jambar (all positive), but at the same time we knew we were nearing the end of the road to our trip in Armenia.

When I got home I had gotten sick on the airplane and Verginie said it best… it was because I was missing my lands, Hayrenikis garoduh, that I got sick. I am counting down the months, days, hours, until next summer when I can return to Armenia and be back on my lands because no matter what, in the end it is mine and yours and we need to take care of it, nurture it, and learn from the people there.

Menk Enk Mer Sareruh.

—
Patil Aslanian

About two months ago, I left the United States for what eventually became the best six-week experience of my life. I have participated in service trips in the past, but never before abroad, let alone my homeland. This summer I had the opportunity to travel to Armenia. Twenty-four Americans, one Canadian, six weeks, three countries, four cities and over 500 children. I was very nervous beginning this trip for a few reasons: six weeks is a long time away from home, I have never been to Armenia, and I am unable to speak the language. The amount I learned, the memories I made, and the friendships I formed are things I will cherish and remember forever.

On every trip, I feel that there are some moments that affect you the most. Negative, or positive, they are the moments you will always remember. On the last day at Camp Gyumri, we began with what had become our daily routine. The twelve of us counselors and the campers walked from Digin Liliq’s house to camp. We were upset to be leaving a place we had all come to love so much. When the day began, the kids were wild, just as they always were. We brought them inside and sat them down for their last educational. The group seemed to be somewhat quieter and easier to control that day and it wasn’t until the three musketeers walked in, abrupt as ever, that we realized why. These three boys were constantly rowdy, they would never stop talking, and they would laugh at you if you tried to punish them. You could see the anger rising in half of our faces, as these boys walked in with shopping bags in their hands and big smiles on their faces. We assumed they were up to no good. Before we had the opportunity to negotiate their punishment, the boys revealed the reason for their lateness. After gathering what little money they had, the boys had purchased each female counselor a necklace or bracelet, and each male counselor a cross necklace (glow in the dark, mind you). The feeling that this gave us was indescribable. Three campers, who were troublemakers every second of every day, found a way to show their true appreciation for all that we had done. Later that day, the parents of these campers gathered in the foyer of the school and watched their children compete in song competition. As I looked at all of their faces, from campers, to counselors, to parents, they were smiling so wide and it was so great to see how happy everyone was. The last group sang, “Don’t stop believing,” giving everyone the chills. They stood there and sang the song, loud and proud. The day ended with numerous pictures, laughs, and tears from a number of campers. After camp ended we took any of theremaining food from that day to a nearby domik. Domiks are tin house that were built after the earthquake with the intention of being used for temporary housing. People still live in them today. This particular domik was the house of one of our campers, Khachig. His mother and grandmother invited the nine of us into their home, which probably wasn’t even half the size of most of our family rooms. As I looked around the room, I noticed a set of beautiful teacups that seemed quite out of place, in comparison to the rest of the house. These were obviously the few items they were able to salvage from the earthquake. Without question, the mother and grandmother of the house began making us soorj and tea and telling us about her past. As I sat there and had everything translated to me, I couldn’t help but wonder how people could be living in such poverty and yet still be so full of life. This family of five, who were living in such tight quarters, was so welcoming and giving of the little belongings they had. She offered us candies and chocolates as well, which she later mentioned were bought using her minimal earnings that week. I couldn’t take my eyes off this house as we walked back to Digin Liliq’s.

These families can’t afford to own a soccer ball, or have running water at all hours of the day, or even heat for the winter months, but throughout it all, they appreciate every little thing that they do have. Some areas are still living in fear and unsure of what the next day will bring them. They also live each day with the most positive of attitudes and love for their land. One deghatsi (local person) from Stepanakert that most of us became very close to, Arevik Sargsyan, said one night: “May the best of today, be the ‘eh’ of tomorrow.” This is the attitude I have come to know and appreciate in the six weeks I was living in Armenia. They face each day in hopes of one day living the way they did years ago. Despite their present difficulty, they remember and work to restore the Armenia they will always love. Don’t stop believing, Armenia.

Alycia McCarthy

Wednesday at 9 pm the decision was made for a few of the AYF Youth Corps participants to join AYF youth from all over the world for a pan Armenian panagoom (camp). Those of us who were fortunate to participate were very excited by this decision and knew that it would be an amazing addition to our trip. Because the decision was last minute, we needed to leave Thursday at 3pm before the closing of our Shushi jambar. Not only did we have to do laundry, pack our stuff, and prepare to leave, worst of all we had to leave our kids in Shushi.

Usually I don’t get attached to people in a couple weeks, but these kids made my usual impossible. From the start of camp, the blue color, the group I was a khmpabed (leader) for, were the highlight of camp.

The first day, while we were waiting for lunch Vahe asked the kids if any of them had talents. Asri, stood up and said I can sing… We invited him to the front of class and told him to sing a patriotic song. The little 13 year old boy shocked all of us by singing “Baderazm Enk Gnoom”. None of us expected that little body to make such a strong, impacting sound. Then during the chorus, Ara joined in with his squeaky, but amazing voice. We were called to lunch, where we told the red and orange counselors about the talent we discovered. The next morning we invited Verginie and Patil to come see our boys sing. Asri and Ara sang “Baderazm Enk Gnoom” again, then sang a song none of us had heard, “Seeroom Em Kez”. All of us fell in love, especially Verginie. The next day we wanted to really show off, so after lunch the blue group put on a small concert for the rest of camp. These boys were happy to be the spotlight.

These boys became my friends at camp… When I didn’t understand the Gharapaghtsi dialect, they would translate. When I found out kids were running away from camp they would go find them. When I needed the group to get quiet and line up, they would make it happen. It’s usually not right to have favorites but it was unavoidable. One morning I brought them chocolate and they refused to take it, because they said I didn’t need to thank them for what they were doing. These kids brought our whole group together.

When I first told them I was leaving a day early they refused to believe me, and said I would have to wait until camp was over. Then I explained the situation, and they were forcefully convinced. Telling the rest of the color was just as difficult. Asri and Ara were my favorites but I loved the other kids too. Little Lusine and Anushig begged me not to go. Little Ishkhan actually listened to me when I asked him to learn the songs, gave me the nastiest wet kiss, and  brought me my last flower. Arus a 14 year old mature young lady actually cried when handing me the letter she wrote. The girl I sent home the first day for being rude, who we allowed back because Vache is a softy, handed me a heart shaped card. Saying bye to the other Youth Corps participants was the worst, after living with them for five weeks, we would have to part. Leaving Vache, the person who I had grown the closest too was so annoying that we just kept arguing because neither of us wanted to deal with saying adios.

It was 3 pm when Vache called me out of class, I lagged as much as possible but eventually I was forced out. All the kids came out by the taxi, and Asri and Ara sang the last “Seeroom em Kez”.  When we told them we were returning to Shushi in a few days, they promised they would somehow find us. Vache told us if we didn’t get in the taxi, the taxi was leaving without us so we got in. Patil and I turned around and saw a crowd of kids with water bottles, ready to splash the car, wishing us a safe trip. Since I hadn’t already cried (yeah right) I really broke down.

Saying bye to Shushi, was the start. It was like saying bye the summer that I believed to be my new life. I’ve been away from America for a month and a half, but I don’t feel like l ever left home.

-Arpa Hatzbanian