After an amazing first week at the Proshyan jampar, one of our weekend activities was hiking up Arakadz Ler. I’ve been to Arakadz Ler before, but I have never hiked up the mountain. On July 19th we went as a group with a few ARF members, and Badanees who attend jampar. As we were driving up the Badanees began singing revolutionary songs; songs we were not learning during camp. They were overjoyed to find that many of us knew the songs as well, and we began to sing together. Watching Rosa, Anahid, Marine’, and Aida sing, talk, and exchange riddles with us during our bumpy ride made me realize that our returning presence in Proshyan is truly making a difference in their lives. Seeing their excitement overwhelmed me with joy because I knew that I was experiencing something that not many people get to do. The villagers gave us advice on how best to climb the mountain – the girls assured us that they would be with us the whole time to offer their support. I continue to discover that they teach us as much as we are here to teach them.
Being able to do this was something that was very exciting for all ten of us. It is a tradition to carry an engraved stone up the mountain to honor someone who has dedicated their lives to the Armenian Cause. Last year they honored Unger Garod Mgrtchyan, to whom we dedicated our Proshyan jampar. This year the ARF members had brought an engraved stone that honored unger Garo Kahkedjian. The climb up the mountain was already tough – I couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Kile who volunteered to carry the 60-pound stone on his back!
It proved to be a difficult climb indeed – with the cold, wind, and altitude. The weather was very cold, so cold we passed some large patches of snow at one point. Unfortunately I was unable to hike up to the top of the mountain – my ankle was still sprained from the previous week. So I sat in a patch of green grass with one of my group members and took it all in. I was three-quarters of the way up the highest peak in Armenia, gazing at a postcard-perfect view of Mt. Ararat just across the border. I sat in silence and listened to the wind; breathed in the fresh air of Hayasdan, felt the mountain beneath my feet…I was home.
I remember hearing stories about Youth Corps and how it will change my life in so many ways. I don’t remember being told that my life would begin to change after only one jampar in Askeran, Artsakh. I sit and replay memories of the past two weeks in my head, smiling to myself, still in awe of the fact that I am here.
My eyes fill with tears at the thought of possibly never seeing the glowing faces of my campers again, and that in a short amount of years, many of these teenage boys will be fighting for this small but incredibly proud republic. While children back home are planning on becoming doctors, professional athletes, and actors, the young men here are planning what position they want to serve in the military and what weapon they will be carrying to defend this land when they turn 18.
Being in Artsakh these past two weeks has felt like a completely different world, and I know it will feel different than the next two jampars that will be held in Armenia. These campers have taught me much more about myself and my life than I have been able to teach them in the two weeks that we have been together. Seeing children so proud of where they are from and this land that they are able to call “azad angakh Artsakh” affects me in an unexplainable way.
One of my favorite moments from this jampar was when I told my campers that I am only half Armenian and that my other half is German. I got wide-eyed looks of amazement. They then asked me, “Payts Hayeren hasganoom es?” and I responded, “Ayo, payts Haygagan tbrots chi katsi,” and after 25 looks of confusion and interest, one of my 16-year-old boys smiled and said “Abrik” and gave me a hug. I couldn’t hold back the burning sensation of tears in my eyes at how much that reaction affected me.
I came to Youth Corps unsure of my ability to communicate with these kids, unsure of what to expect, and hoping for a great experience. Now that I am here, I have never felt more Armenian and I have never felt so proud of where I come from. This trip is a blessing for me just as much as it is for these kids, and I admire every single one of them for the lives they lead and who they will become. I have gotten attached and it is going to be so difficult to let this go.
The next three weeks have so many incredible things in store, but I will never forget the special connection I have with these children in Artsakh. I hold back tears as I write this, but I feel nothing but happiness and pride. I am so excited to see what the future weeks hold.
Typically, one would say, “I had no idea what to expect” when embarking on such a unique experience such as the one Youth Corps offers; however, I can’t lie, I thought I had an idea of what I was getting myself into. Having years of experience with kids being a Homenetmen scout for 7 years and participating in multiple AYF camp trips, I thought I was a veteran when it came to running a day camp for the children of Armenia. I was wrong, in the best way possible. Day one of jampar in Proshyan has commenced, and I have already learned so much, in such little time. These kids, in one word, are rejuvenating. So full of life and energy, so eager to learn and play, so excited to meet new people and make friends — qualities so rarely found amongst adolescent children nowadays. They are not interested in the latest gadget or the coolest game application, but rather enjoy the simple joys of playing Steal the Bacon or ‘futbol’. On the first day, kids were already learning all our names quicker than we could learn theirs, and volunteering to help us get the younger kids in a straight line for flag ceremony. During our morning exercise, virtually all hands were flung up into the air when the kids were asked if any of them had an exercise they wanted to share and demonstrate for everybody. They would all soulfully sing ‘Mer Hayrenik’ and ‘Mshag Panvor’ without reluctance during song practice. These demonstrated qualities of eager participation and helpfulness may seem expected or standard, but if you have had any experience with young children at all, you would know they are hard to come by in this day and age. These young kids show so much promise, it’s inspiring. My most treasured moment from the first day was meeting a young lady named Aida, who is 13 years old. She has the most advanced English speaking skills from the group, which she told me she learned on her own during her free time. She has successfully taught all three of her younger siblings English to the best of her abilities. Throughout the entire day she continued to speak to me in English, regardless of the fact that I was responding in Armenian. She later confessed that she wished to have conversations with me only in English to further advance her English speaking skills. This kind of ambition and hard work was absolutely astonishing for me. It wasn’t that I expected the kids of Proshyan to be lazy or incompetent; I expected them to be energetic and clever, yet they’ve exceeded all my expectations. I thought I had come here to help give these children life and knowledge, yet that’s exactly what they’ve given me. They’ve given me life in showing me that our Armenian youth shows great promise and potential, and knowledge that our culture’s future lies in the great hands of these aspirational, enthusiastic, and intelligent young adults. I thought I had come to Armenia to change lives, but they are changing mine.
Honestly what can I say? I am living one of my life long dreams; I’m home! By now you know that we have already toured Yerevan and my group is in Stepanakert for our first week at camp.
I came on this trip knowing there was going to be a language barrier, but I knew we could overcome it. I knew that there would be behavior difficulties, but by working together we can learn to understand each other. What I wasn’t prepared for was the emotional aspect. Every time I speak to one of the children at camp, I am amazed more and more. Today, there was one camper in particular that stood out to me. A twelve year old girl named Lilit. During free time I was walking around with a few of the other campers getting to know them. Suddenly, with much excitement, Lilit walked up to me and asked if she can speak English with me. Feeling confident and in my element I agreed. For the next twenty-five minutes we had a full conversation in English. Lilit kept asking me questions, as if she liked hearing me speak. Finally, I stared asking her questions to which she answered with short but sweet answers. I knew that something about the way I was speaking was very interesting for her.
Lilit asked me if I had been anywhere else in the world other than Armenia. I told her that I had been to Mexico but nowhere else. I reiterated the question to her. She told me she hasn’t been anywhere else but it’s been a dream of her’s to go to France and America. She told me that her father had promised her that for her sixteenth birthday he was going to take her to France. What she said was very heartbreaking to hear. She continued to say that even though her father promised her, she didn’t have much hope because of her family’s difficult economic conditions. All I could do was say encouraging words and I try to spark a bit of hope about her father’s promise.
Dear sweet Lilit, keep faith and hope in your father and keep dreaming. One day your dream will also come true. Keep that amazing smile on your face and continue to shine bright.
I can’t wait to meet the other children and get to know them. I could travel the world and never find another place like this. I’m home.
Every year in April, a familiar echo of discontent and disappointment in ourselves is heard far and wide. It is during this month, when our communities become the most active, that the perpetual cynics lay it on the strongest.
Community organizations become subjected to harsh judgments of being overly invested in genocide recognition, of singing and preaching and making unrealistic demands that keep us in an endless cycle of self-gratifying protest. These echoes of discontent and disappointment reinforce the idea that we have wasted our energies on one dimension of the Armenian Cause that has become a failed strategy.
While critique of the genocide month may sometimes be tolerated if supplemented by recommendations for alternative action, a majority of that discontent is simply a misconception about what we are actually doing. This self-deprecation often comes from those who might not fully understand what the most active segments of our community are invested in.
The articles written throughout the following pages are a product of the month of April. They discuss a wide-ranging set of issues that transcend the genocide narrative. This Spring 2014 Haytoug does not submit to one unique theme, as most previous editions have had. The contributors were told to simply write about what interested them the most, and the results serve as validation that even amongst the April madness, our interests reach far beyond genocide recognition. Armenian youth have something important to say. Whether it be about activists in Armenia joining the online global community, or its government joining the Russian-led Custom’s Union; the need for modern day heroes or a better understanding of female heroines from our past; looking forward to new means of activism that breaks us out of the Armenian bubble, or recommitting ourselves to our militant roots.
We don’t live, work or fight exclusively for one thing, because our interests as well as our politics are dynamic. These articles speak to the complexity of the Armenian world, and to the fact that while genocide recognition is at the top of our agenda, it does not stand alone. These articles speak to the politics, culture and imagination of Armenian youth, however brilliant or dull they may be. These articles speak to the fact that we are in motion, we have visions and dreams, therefore are not nearing our mortality as those disheartened echoes in April suggest.
Self-reflection of our shortcomings is important, but those April judgments should not become a feel-good narrative for change. The Haytoug does not generally offer final answers or solutions, but it raises questions on behalf of Armenian youth who do not succumb to crippling generalizations.
As I sit in this van, leaving Gyumri and Digin Lilig’s home, I look out into a rainy scenery, with a few tears of my own streaming down my face. I come to realize at this moment how much my outlook on family and that concept of home has changed within these last five weeks.
I’m thousands of miles away from home and yet still feel so at “home” with a strong sense of belonging, right here in this very moment in Armenia. Home isn’t about where you reside but more so the emotional ties and bonds that bridge the gap between you and a place or your relations with people. This last month I’ve learned just that, from Stepanagert, to Gyumri, to Javakhk, not once did I feel like an outsider, like I didn’t belong. In each one of these locations I formed a family, a home, somewhere I knew I could go whenever I wanted to, without even calling days ahead of time to see if it was even ok to come over. Family accepts you with open arms, their home is your home.
Something we were asked here a lot was, “Hayasdanuh tser turneen yegav?” Roughly translated to, “Did you like Armenia? Are you satisfied?” Our answer every time was yes, we couldn’t have asked for more. In Armenia, even if you aren’t family by blood, you will become family by association. The people here will open their homes to you, offer you everything they have, even if they can’t afford it. To them, your presence in their home is worth more than a table with gold laid upon it. This was evident in Gyumri when we went to visit one of our campers at his home, which you wouldn’t consider a house. He lived in a “domik” which is a small tin shack, the size of a small garden shed. Many people in Gyumri live in these domiks due to the massive earthquake in 1988 that tore the city down. Domiks were built as temporary housing, just until some rebuilding could be done, but 23 years later people still live in them with hopes of one day being able to move out and afford proper housing.
So as I mentioned, we were visiting our camper, which brings us to my concept of home and belonging. As soon as we sat down, little Khachik’s grandma took our her finest sweets, offered us fruits, and prepared the typical Armenian coffee that we’re all accustomed to drinking when we visit friends and family. With a smile on her face, standing in a living room no bigger than a janitor closet, she exclaimed, “Our house may be small, but our hearts are big, welcome to our home.”
Whether it was at Digin Lilig’s house in Gyumri, Babo’s house in Stepanagert, the agoump in Javakhk, or the little domik, it was considered a home. You can have a million dollar mansion for all I care, but it will never have the luxury you get from a home like the domik if there’s no love, selflessness, and the feeling of belonging and reassurance. Armenia will always be accepting with open arms, no matter when, no matter what.
In the words of Coldplay, “Home, home, where I wanted to go.”
A fifteen hour car ride is not something to look forward to, especially when you’re in a van that hardly works and is filled to a point where people are laying on the floor. Gyumri to Shushi means driving from one end of Armenia to the other. With a few scenic stops on the way the trip was expected to take at least 12 hours.
We left Gyumri at 7 am on the dot. All of us were dead tired, and annoyed to be leaving our Gyumri family. The men tied the luggage to the roof that was actually slippery from rain. One by one, we walked out of the house and cuddled Unger Gevork, our pseudo-father in Gyumri, until he made us get in our bus. Obviously I snatched shotgun, and we were on.
I was really not looking forward to stopping a trillion times on the way, because I had been to Armenia several times. Each spot on the way had a memory that would never be replaced. Our first stop was Khor Virab. Although this is a very special place for Armenians, seeing it more than most locals, I had no interest. I knew the spot for pictures with Ararat in the background would take two hours, because everyone would want that romantic picture with Armenia’s occupied treasure. I decided not to take the ladder to the pit where Krikor Lousavoritch survived 13 years. Pretty much I was being a princess, thinking I’m the coolest person in the world because I had been to Armenia before. Then the Armenia first timers walked out and through their emotions I remembered my first time there. Slowly I became excited for them. I was no longer rushing to get out of there; I just sat to myself for a while and remembered all the memories I had throughout the years. Finally we all boarded the van and took off to my favorite place in Armenia.
So I’m going to pause here and say a short story about our van. The GAZELLE became a mascot to our trip. With its signature scorpion stickers and Russian writing that looked like what we assumed said gazelle, it was easy to get attached. Every so often, actually at every incline, the car would overheat, we would collect our bottles of water that the driver would pour onto the steaming radiator. Every so many kilometers we would have to all get out of the van and refill our natural gas. This van was a disaster! Luggage + fifteen adults + our mountainous country = There was no chance Gazelle would make it to Shushi. Okay let’s get back to my favorite place in Armenia: Noravank.
Noravank is significant to me for a few reasons: first off the church and its surroundings are of the most beautiful in all of Armenia; secondly, a few years back my mom and stepfather married there; and lastly I know once you reach Noravank you are very close to the river I am named after. As soon as the Gazelle stopped I ran to the back church to light a candle, and right after went to my spot and chilled. As we took the cliché picture on the steps of the first church, I remembered being a little girl in a flower girl dress climbing as everyone was looking at me like I’m crazy… Once everyone was through taking pictures, we reentered the van and took off. It took us 25 minutes to exit the parking lot because “This Is Armenia” and everyone had their own mission. We had one more spot, Datev Vank and then finally we would arrive in Shushi. Unfortunately, the aerial trail tram, the longest in the world, which had opened recently was closed for the day. Bummed we got back on the Gazelle. But we’ll be back to Datev soon enough.
The Artsakh border was so relieving.. Finally we made it. The drive from the border to our house was filled with songs and fun, and from the first glance our house looked awesome. We unloaded the van and claimed rooms. The house was great and the family was cool! Finally we were done with the Gazelle. 16 hours had passed, our butts had flattened, and we were all relieved to finally say we’re HOME!
Երկու շաբաթ եղաւ որ մենք հոս ենք: Ամէն երկու օր անփոյթ բայց կատաղի յանդիմանութիւն կ’ստանանք մեր խմբի ղեկավար Վաչէէն որ «պլոկ» գրենք: Օրէ օր, խումբի անդամները կը նստին ու կը գրեն, եւ տակաւին ես գաղաբար չունէի գրած նիւթիս մասին: Միայն գիտէի որ կ’ուզէի Հայերէնով գրել որովհետեւ տասը տարիէ Հայկական դպրոց գացած էի, եւ նաեւ Ամերիկա մեկնելէս աոաջ, իբր հա մալսարանի դաս ալ արի: Անկէ զատ հոս ըլլալս երաւակայութիւնէս աւելի հայրենիքիս կապած է: Իմ աոաջին գալո ւս առթիւ ամէն ծանօթներս ինծի ըսին ուր երթամ եւ ինչ ընեմ եւ որքան գեղեցիկ է ամէն ինչ: Հիմա որ հոս եմ, գիտեմ ճիշդ ինչի մասին կը խօսէին որովհետեւ սպասումներս գերազանցած են: Ուր որ երթանք ամէն կողմ գեղեցկութիւն կայ եւ հրաշալի է գիտնալով որ դալար դաշտերը եւ լեոներով որ շրջապատուած ենք, ամբողջութեամբ մեր հայրենիքին բնական գեղեցկութիւնն է: Վեոադարնալով Ճաւախքէն, մեր խումբը պիտի վիճաբանի որովհետեւ աոաջին անգամ ըլլալով լոգանքի կարք չունինք, եւ ամէնքնիս պիտի նստինք Տիկին Լիլիկին տունը եւ վստահաբար նոյն գաղաբարը պիտի անցնի մեր մտքէն – Ինչպէս այսքան շուտ անցաւ աոաջին շաբաթը: Կարծես թէ դեո նոր Կիւմրի հասանք, բաժնուելով մեր միւս խումբէն որ արդէն մտերմացած էինք իրենց հետ, գալով օտար շրջանի, եւ հիմա արդէն եկրորդ շաբաթն է: Դժուար պիտի ըլլայ բաժանուիլ ամէն այս պզտիկներէ որ կ’ուզենք մեր հետը տուն բերել եւ մեկնիլ մեր տունէն: Սակայն, պիտի ձգենք գիտնալով որ ճիշդ բան մը ըրած ենք եւ այս պզտիկներուն առիթ տուած ենք որ ամառնին վայելէն: Շարունակել մեր յաջորդ քայլին, պիտի կրկնենք նոյն ծրագիրը գիտնալով որ այս նոր Շուշիի պզտիկները ինչպէս պիտի ըլլան, բայց գիտենք որ անմիջապէս պիտի սիրահարուինք ամէնուն հետ, եւ շատ հաւանաբար նոյն բանը պիտի պատահի Պրոշիանի մէջ ալ:
Ուր որ երթանք կը կապուինք պզտիկներուն հետ, եւ որովհետեւ կ՝ընենք բոլորս մէկ միասին եւ մէկ նպատակով մեր գործը աւելի դիւրին կ՝ըլլայ: Պզտիկներուն ժպիտները տեսնելը եւ ամէն օր իրենց հրճուած ձեւով մեզ դիմաւորելը մեր բոլորին սիրտը կը հալեցնէ եւ կ’անդրադարձնէ օրէ օր որ ճիշդ որոշումը ընտրած եմ Youth Corps-ին մաս կազմելուն եւ ամառս Հայաստան անձնելը: Քանի մը շաբաթէն երբ մեկնինք ու երթանք մեր Ամերիկայի տուները 1Յ նոր ընտանիքը անդամներէս պիտի բաժնուիմ եւ նորէն կեանքս մինակս պիտի շարունակեմ ու մինակս որոշումներ առնեմ նորէն:
We have been here for about two weeks now. Every other day we get a nonchalant yet wrathful scolding from our group leader, Vache, to write a blog. Day by day, every one in my group has been sitting there writing their blogs, and yet, I had no idea what to write about. I just knew that I wanted to write in Armenian because aside from going to an Armenian school for ten years of my life and taking a college course Armenian class the semester before coming to Armenia, being here has linked me to my homeland more than I could have ever imagined. I kept getting told how beautiful everything was and where to go and what to do, it being my first time here. Now that I’m here, I know exactly what everyone was talking about because everything has exceeded my expectations. Everywhere we go, there is beautiful scenery all around- and its heartwarming knowing that the greenest fields and all around mountains are all a part of our country’s natural beauty. As we return from our wonderful weekend in Javakhk, we’re going to fight over our for-the-first-time-unscheduled shower list and sit down at Digin Liligs house and I promise you the same thought is going to go on in every one of our heads – how did the first week fly by so quickly ?? It feels like just yesterday that we arrived in Gyumri, splitting away from those we had gotten so close with in Yerevan, and coming to an unfamiliar city, and now it’s week two. We are going to have a hard time separating from all the kids we want to bring home with us and leaving what has become our home. However, we’re going to leave knowing that we have done something right and made a part of all these kids’ summer. As we move on to the next step of our program’s journey, we are going to repeat the cycle by being nervous about what these new kids in Shushi are going to be like, but know that we are instantly going to fall in love with every single one of them, and the same thing will probably happen in Broshyan too.
Everywhere we go we are getting attached, but it’s easy to move on to the next step because we do it as a whole group – we do it as a family. Seeing the kids smile and having them run up to you to give you the biggest hug just makes our hearts melt and makes me realize over and over every day that I made the right decision by wanting to be a part of Youth Corps and spending my summer in Armenia. Now once we leave Armenia and go our separate ways it’s going to feel weird knowing that each and every one of us now has to adjust to what comes next on our own.