Monday was the first day of the last week of Jampar. It sounds as weird as it feels. Weird in the sense that next Monday, instead of walking to Jampar in the morning, I’ll be sitting on a plane headed back to Los Angeles. Weird in the sense that I won’t wake up next to the same people I’ve lived with over the past six weeks. And especially weird in the sense that I won’t spend everyday from 10:00am to 4:00pm with some of the most amazing kids in the world.

With that said, AYF Youth Corps has been one of the greatest adventures of my life. I’ve done things that I would not have imagined doing in my life, like crossing a suspension bridge in Artsakh’s mountains or riding a horse in Gyumri’s delicious fish restaurant. AYF Youth Corps has taught me to be more open-minded and to try everything at least once. It seems that these life lessons I’ve learned over the last six weeks will stay with me for years to come.

The end of camp is bittersweet. It’s bitter because we won’t see the kids anymore of course, but more importantly it’s bitter because those kids are genuinely disappointed that camp is almost over and they have to wait another year to come have this amazing experience again. It is sweet because the impact we make on these kids lives is so visible. Even though there is still a whole 4 days left, the kids are already wanting exchange contact information and constantly asking me “Ungeruhi Areni myoos tari piti gas che?” (Ungerouhi Areni, you will come back next year right?) I can’t deny that our campers misbehave and drive us crazy most of the time; however, every morning we all still greet each other with smiles because we have built unique relationships with one another. We are not their parents, we are not their teachers; we are their older brothers and sisters, we are now friends from different sides of the world who will never forget one another.

This last session of camps are dedicated to our Ungers Allen Yekikain and Sose Thomassian-Yekikian. Allen and Sose were a very big part in creating and developing this AYF Youth Corps camp program and their untimely departure has left us with very big shoes to fill. Regardless of the fact that some of the participants from our group may not have personally known these two, all of us are now a part of the work being done to uphold their legacy. With these last four days of camp ahead, we will do our absolute best to build the bridge with our homeland through our relationships with these incredible kids.

– Areni Der-Grigorian

Artsakh, day 3. We made pasta from scratch today (not really, but it felt like it).

Artsakh. Kharabakh. Shushi. Stepanakert. To some, these words may be just that – words. Others may know Artsakh to be an autonomous region that isn’t recognized as its own, independent country. Scholars and historians will know about the region based on what is written in books. However, to the 143,600 citizens living in Artsakh, the word “Artsakh” means home. It’s the land that Armenians fought and died for. And honestly, the books do no justice. The pictures do no justice. The spoken word does no justice to the real deal. As cliche as that may sound, it’s the truth. Artsakh has six different regions: Askeran, Martuni, Martakert, Hadrut, Shahumian, and Shushi. The greenery, fields, and clean air in Shushi is so different from city life. Life is literally in slow motion here; there’s no rush, no craziness. It’s perfect. The kids here are so attentive, welcoming, and curious, which makes Jampar (camp) that much better. You can see how proud the campers and their parents are to live on this land and be able to call this their home. These two weeks in Arstakh are going to be great. From get-togethers with foreign AYF groups such as France, to viewing all the sights Artsakh has to offer, this is going to be a good ending to such a memorable and inspiring trip.

It wouldn’t be right to talk about Artsakh without mentioning the drive. The drive to Artsakh was an adventure on its own. Moments like those we had in the van are the ones I relish, for that’s when everyone is careless, having fun, and just having a good time with each other.

So, the trip started; a 12-hour road trip, to be exact. Our first stop was Khor Virap, an Armenian Apostolic monastery located close to Armenia’s border with Turkey. The view of Ararat from Khor Virap is breathtaking yet extremely bittersweet. Seeing the Turkish watchtowers and knowing that Ararat is not on present-day Armenian soil is aggravating; it serves as a reminder that the fight for our homeland is far from over. Our next stop was Noravank, another monastery, built on top of a mountain in a narrow gorge in the 13th century. 5 hours later, we arrived at Tatev Monastery. I’ve been to Tatev once before, but that was before the cable cars were built. I can now say that I’ve been on the world’s longest cable car, Wings of Tatev. In my opinion, the view from the cable car and from the actual monastery itself is one of the best in Armenia. The greenery and the church in the distance leave you speechless. Finally, I was able to cross that trip off my bucket list, but I know that I will definitely make a ret rn trip to Tatev in the future. The next four hours of the trip were probably the most memorable. Singing songs, luggage falling on us while sleeping, and poking fun at people in our group who are scared of cliffs (Hi Taleen!)… Let’s just say we had a good time. Upon arrival in Shushi, we went directly to our host family’s house. To our surprise, we were also welcomed by four Argentinian street performers playing random instruments and performing crazy acrobatics. Needless to say, this trip is one that will be remembered well into the future.

It’s weird knowing that this all coming to an end soon. It’s been almost 5 weeks we’ve been here, but it feels like we arrived at Zvartnots Airport yesterday. Coming to Armenia with AYF was one of the best decisions I’ve made, and I think the final week here will just reassure that statement.

“So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, go barefoot oftener, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets. Life must be lived as we go along.” – J. Hastings

There’s so much to see in the world and there’s nothing better than going to your homeland and meeting and working with the future generation of your country.

From Shushi,
Christine

Ever since the day we arrived in Yerevan and started touring, I was never able to see Mount Ararat clearly. It was always foggy, smoggy, or cloudy. In Proshyan, that quickly changed. The second day there, I woke up to a clear view of Mount Ararat. I stood there staring at it for a few minutes. It was so beautiful. I couldn’t keep my eyes away from it.

Thus far, we have completed 2 jampars and are now doing the third one. As we go through each Jampar, I learn a lot about Armenia, its people, and its history. While in Proshyan, I feel as though I started loving Armenia more and more There is so much more history in the village than I had originally expected. I heard stories about heroes like Bedo, Hrach, and Garod every day.

Although our stay in Proshyan was short, the Jampar that we did in this village meant so much to me. The feeling you get when meeting the family members of “azadamardiks” is hard to explain. It’s different. Hearing the story of each person, the sacrifices they made, and the heroic things they did for our country was amazing, and it created a fire within me that never existed before.

Honestly, I never thought that I would love Armenia this much. I have loved it so much, that I am really considering moving here. My friends in America told me that I would have the time of my life in Armenia, that it’s going to be a memory that I will never forget, and it’s a feeling that they couldn’t explain to me. When they told me these things, I never understood them. Now I know. It seriously is a feeling you cannot explain. It’s just something that you have to do and experience for yourself.

Thank you Proshyan and AYF Youth Corps for giving me this experience.

Sincerely,

Arin

It is definitely not enough. One week in Proshyan is just too short. It’s too short for “Jampar” (camp). It’s too short to understand the value of the village, its people, the fallen heroes that lived there and their families that continue to do so. Only a mere 15 minutes outside of Yerevan, but a drastically different place. A week is too short, but I’m glad I was able to at least have that.

Where do I begin? I didn’t know much about Proshyan’s history before coming here. Nor did I get a chance to ask, as I soon realized its significance during the Artsakh liberation movement and thereafter, is enough history to digest during a short, one-week stay. Proshyan was one of the first villages to send fighters to Artsakh from Armenia during the early 1990s. It is also home to fallen Artsakh heroes, including Bedros Ghevondyan, Garod Megerdchian, and the recently murdered Hrach Mouradian. It continues to be home for their families, as well as many other freedom fighters, or “azadamardiks.” This reality, in and of itself, makes Proshyan a special place. When embarking on this 6-week program, I knew we would meet such individuals and their families, but I didn’t comprehend the effect it would have on me. We sing songs about their battles and in their memory, but shaking the hand of their brothers and fathers, hugging their children, seeing the house in which they would rest, evoke an emotion that is indescribable, but I will try to nonetheless. Beautiful. Inspiring. Motivating. Uplifting.

It was an everyday occurrence, as different people would visit Jampar throughout the day. Garod’s brother and father were regular visitors. Bedo’s relatives opened their home to show us some of his belongings, including the hat we see him wearing in almost all of his pictures. Hrach’s children participated in our Jampar and his son, Kevork, even stayed overnight as “bahag” (guard) one night. Everywhere we’d turn someone was there as proof that their memory and work will continue to live on for generations.

When surrounded by the families of so many fallen heroes in Proshyan, I can’t help but also think of those close to me that left far too early and without whom I wouldn’t be a group leader for AYF Youth Corps today. Every day, either during Jampar or after, I think about Sosé and Allen constantly. It is difficult not to. During Jampar I am surrounded by the fruit of their hard work and vision. After Jampar, I wish I could ask for their advice on certain decisions. We conduct each day of Jampar in their ever present and contagious spirit. Their inspiration is present even as I write this blog. I hope they are proud, but I’m sure I can do better.

This year thus far has been difficult for Proshyan. On April 2nd, the mayor of Proshyan, Hrach Mouradian, was murdered in broad daylight. The assassin(s) are still unpunished. I’m not even sure that someone has been arrested. Why?! Why him?! An “azadamardik,” a proven hero, someone that willingly put his life on the line for the betterment of the country, an Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) member, someone that had been elected mayor 3 times, and was a loved and respected individual. Why him?! Why, after 4 months, has no one been punished?! The story reeks of political motives as the election for a new mayor found the Republican Party, the current president’s party, “victorious.” A hero was replaced by a man representing a party of crooks and thugs. What is most troubling is that there are no witnesses that have come forward, more than likely out of fear, to testify. If these thugs won’t hesitate to murder a mayor, they certainly won’t hesitate to murder any witnesses.

I wish I had the chance to meet “Unger” (Comrade) Hrach, as I heard he was a frequent visitor of Jampar during the prior two years it was in Proshyan. This year, the third year of Jampar in Proshyan, we decided to conduct the one-week camp in his name, to show the village, those responsible for his death, and those responsible for failing to punish the murderers, that the youth today, though separated by thousands of miles, are unified and will always remember Unger Hrach and what he represents. His death will not be in vain, and I can show you 180 kids and counselors who agree.

In Proshyan, Jampar started Monday with over 100 kids. The next day, the number grew to 150, the maximum number we can accept. The next day, even more kids showed up, forcing us to turn them away, undeniably the worst part about being group leader. We even had kids showing up on the second to last day, begging to participate. Nevertheless, we had the fortune to interact with a very special group of kids. Some stood out more than others. Whether it was their through exceptional singing, or entertaining personality, we embraced the opportunity to meet them all. Moreover, the Jampar was very special for Youth Corps participants because both groups worked together for a week, and they had a great time doing so. The day was full of high energy and excitement, which allowed for productive song practice and competitive games between color groups. The camp concluded with a memorable song competition, featuring Garod’s nieces singing a song dedicated to their uncle, talented singers displaying their beautiful voices, and a group performance of “Verkerov Li”, dedicated to Unger Hrach. Typically, song competition makes counselors proud of their campers as it reflects the hard work they put into teach the kids songs all week long. This song competition went a step further, touching all of us, and making the parents and members of the community and beyond, proud of the village’s children.

I can’t conclude my thoughts about Jampar in Proshyan without mentioning a vital key to its success, Unger Kevork Parseghian. At the beginning of the week, he was just the father of my close friend, Berj. At week’s end, he became my Unger. I didn’t know much about him, and he doesn’t like to talk about himself much, even though he, too, fought in the Artsakh war. He is a genuine “Tashnagtsagan” (Federation member), dedicated to the ideal of humbleness. Despite this, I was able to pick his brain during our various meetings throughout the day or during our drives into Yerevan to buy food for camp. At first he told me I didn’t have to go with him, but I insisted, and I’m glad I did. I learned a lot from Unger Kevork. I not only heard his stories about battles in Artsakh or the Lebanese civil war (which he also fought in) but also lessons about life, and in particular, Armenian life. He moved to Proshyan nine years ago, and has somehow remained calm in the face of many obstacles that have pushed him to the edge of frustration.

Perhaps the most notable memory I will have of him is from one of our drives into Yerevan at 8:30 in the morning. After pointing out all of the things wrong with the current state of Armenia, he told me “Yete hayrenikit mech bidi chi baykaris, baykareluh animasd eh” (“If you are not willing to fight for your country in your country, then your fight has no meaning).” At first I didn’t understand his point, because I don’t think one has to be in Armenia in order to fight for its betterment. But eventually, I figured out that’s not what he is saying. What he means is that that the country we want Armenia to become will not come into being unless we, and all Armenians alike, create a direct connection to it. And I wholeheartedly agree. We need to visit Armenia and spend time there, in order to understand it. And if we are able to, we must live there, not with the expectation that we are here to fix it, but with the desire to contribute to it. For generations, including those from Unger Kevork’s generation, a free and independent Armenia was just a dream. We now have a country that we can call our own, so it is up to us to unequivocally embrace it.

That conversation had my mind racing throughout the whole week. The needs for Armenia are vast, just like any other country. What this country needs is leadership that genuinely cares for it; leadership that values and invests the country’s beauty and potential. The people are thirsty for work. Not just work that will pay the bills, but work that will allow the country to grow and become something they can be proud of, something that represents the free and independent Armenia they have envisioned, and in some cases, died for. The current leadership is not that. The current leadership is worried about their personal gain, not that of the country. The current leadership is not working to find the culprits behind the murder of a village mayor, an Artsakh war hero. The current leadership doesn’t care that roads are unpaved or full of potholes; or that water doesn’t run through every village/city 24 hours a day; or that prices for gas, water and electricity have increased by large amounts while wages have stayed the same. But forget about the current leadership! To hell with them! Just because they don’t care, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t. They are not Armenia. They don’t control you and me. The 150 tram revolution showed us the people aren’t scared to voice their concerns any longer. The current leadership’s time will eventually come to an end. It is our duty to continue working until that happens. We have roughly 8 million people living in the diaspora and 3 million living in Armenia. It is time for our collective 11 million to not just say that we care, but to truly show it.

Visit Armenia, it’s what Bedo, Garod and Hrach died for…and it’s beautiful.

Live in Armenia, it’s what Sosé, Allen and Unger Kevork did…and it’s home.

-Arek Santikian