Turkey run, Turkey hide

          April 24^th is a day of mourning, recognition, and demonstration for Armenians all around the world. April 24, 1915 was the day in history where the Ottoman government organized to gather all Armenian intellectuals and community leaders and subsequently execute them. Each year Armenians gather in their communities to mourn the loss of the 1.5 million victims and protest for rightful recognition from their government. Every year since I was 10, I can remember going to the demonstrations in Washington, D.C., where we would gather in front of the Turkish embassy, armed with megaphones and posters. Some of the slogans that I remember the most vividly are “Turkey run, Turkey hide, Turkey guilty of genocide” and “Eastern Turkey is Western Armenia”. I always understood the need for us to recognize the events of 1915 as genocide, but it wasn’t until coming to Armenia that I realized that April 24 is also about remembering the past and actively being a part of Armenia’s future – the Turks didn’t win!

Torch in hand

In Yerevan, the events started on April 23. The torch march is organized by the ARF, or Tashnagsutyun party (a party with which I find myself more and more aligned...). We gathered in front of the opera house in the evening, just as the sun was beginning to set. Among numerous ARF flags, there was a group of guys preparing a Turkish flag to set on fire. This event is heavily debated among Armenians; I feel like the concept is childish, but seeing the flag burning unleashed a lot of bottled up anger I have towards Turkey’s government and towards Islam. I understand that burning of a flag does no good when trying to move forward and realize Armenia’s potential as a country in the Caucasus Mountains. But I also understand that any trade agreements and peace offerings will forever be superficial until the Armenian genocide is recognized by Turkey. 

ARF and Armenian flags at Liberty Square

Torch wall led by AYF

With a torch in hand, we marched to Tsitsenakabert.  Unlike anything political, this movement was fully supported and protected by Armenia’s police force. Tens of thousands of people made the 5 kilometer walk to the memorial, led by the ARF party in Armenia. As the sun set, it became dark and one could see the march of torches all throughout the city. I was walking with my friend Tveen, a Canadian-Armenian who has been living in Hayastan since she was 12, and her cousin Varant, who was also experiencing his first April 24 in the motherland. Tveen knows the ins and outs of April 24, and was able to tell us all about the history of the event in Armenia. We could hear people chanting “Amman amman, Turkiye maman! Kani ankam? Hazar ankam!”, which translates to an aggressive call-response against Turks. Again, the messages are controversial. I could really feel the anger and resentment towards Turkey when I heard those words. I feel like as Armenians in the USA, we are really just focused on the United States' relations with Turkey and less on Armenia. These strong words are addressing the past and how our ancestors were systematically slaughtered, their perpetrators remaining unpunished and in denial. When Turkey comes around to recognize what it did and stop playing the blame game, I’ll warm up to the idea of forgiveness. Until then, I’ll stick to my accurate portrayal of Turks and Azeris as the ones who are dancing in DC, celebrating their crimes and wishing that they had ‘finished the job’ (quotes found on facebook)  

Turks responding to their crimes

With Tveen!

Lots o flowers

The darkness and anger that I was feeling was brought back to life by the thousands of people who came together to mourn, demonstrating that all Armenians, from all political parties, can mourn for our lost ones. Once we reached the top, Tveen and I parted ways for the night. Varant and I walked all the way back into the city center, both very tired and hungry!

April 24 was a bit different. Streets were empty. The city was quiet, each citizen paying his or her respects some time that day. I joined Raffi Hovannisian and his family on their walk again from Liberty Square to the Genocide Memorial. Once we reached the base of the memorial, our pace slowed to a crawl. The entire process seemed a bit too robotish, with police controlling the flow of people into the memorial itself. I was lucky enough to bump into Garin and Larisa, and we got a good view of what was going on. Unfortunately the guard manning the wall of flowers told me to “dzaghit tir yev sharunage” (put your flower down and move along), which sort of ruined the sentimental mood (which I rarely experience). I wanted to stick around and feel the emotion and atmosphere but I was put off by the crowds. Fortunately, I returned in the evening (3^rd time) with Tveen, her parents, Varant, and his mom.  It was quiet, dark, and chilly – but we were able to witness the 5 foot wall of flowers that surrounded the eternal flame. That five feet of sheer flower power embodied the resilience that Armenians have to recognize their losses and stay strong, even through grief. The Canadian-American-Armenian Diasporan group I was with that evening is living proof that the Turks did not win. We are not only alive, but in Armenia – in an effort to bring our dreams about Armenia to realization.

With Varant - fellow first timer of April 24 in Armenia

Flower collection during the day...

Armenia’s idea of an Inauguration

Great way to sum up today...with Paul Vartan.

9 April 2013. The date of the Presidential inauguration of Armenia. Far from honorable or majestic, Mr. Serzh Sargsyan toasted to a continuation of his glorious 5 years as Armenia’s demon lord Voldemort. Not sure how many goons attended his façade, but the number couldn’t compare to the amount of people gathered at Liberty Square to inaugurate the President that they elected, Raffi Hovannisian. 

I’ll try to give a play by play, as I was present for a lot of the chaos that proceeded. At 11 am, the people gathered at Liberty Square to begin the celebration and welcoming of President Hovannisian. Hovannisian delivered a somewhat lengthy speech, accompanied by a ‘people’s oath’, where he was sworn in as the elected official. He announced at the end of his speech that he would continue the demonstration at 6pm, where the people would march to the presidential palace at Baghramyan 26 to confront the usurper demon lord. The energy level at the meeting was very high, and the people were disappointed that there wasn’t anything for them to do ‘hima’ (now). I stood there – confused and trying to figure out what was going on. Raffi told the people to go home, eat something, take care of their kids, and then return at 6pm. The decision to postpone the continuation until 6 pm was highly controversial, and in my opinion, not well planned. Somehow a march started, where Raffi led the troops all around the city. 

This city tour started at about 2 pm. We marched through Northern Avenue, down to the Republic Square and stopped at the Stepan Shahumian statue. I couldn’t get a handle on how many people joined the march, but the crowd increased as we walked up Mashdots at around 2:30. The road was closed off, presumably for Serzh and his army (actually Armenia’s army). The tourist police held their line to prohibit citizens from walking on the street. Team Raffi was encouraging onlookers to join the march, to end their self driven despair. I think sometimes being young and a woman can be just the right combination to get people moving. Yelling ‘yegek, miatsek!’ (come together) while making eye contact with a person really puts the pressure on them to make the next move. They’ll either close the door to their apartment, or nod their head and come down and join the movement. Getting people to take matters into their own hands is a new concept in Armenia so progress is slow.

The walk continued to Proshyan street, where the crowd got rained on. We were stopped at the Demirchyan/Proshyan intersection by police and special forces, prohibiting Raffi from continuing up to Baghramyan. One of the most memorable quotes from this spot is "We are the Armenians and they [police] are the Turks!"

The rent-a-cops encroached on Raffi and the people as I made obnoxious comments to police officers. The rain, thunder, and lightning only added suspense to this bleak outlook. I stood with a friend, Vartan, determined to see this thing through. Eventually we continued down Demirchyan, another street that leads to Baghramyan. I thought to myself, ‘great, I can run upstairs and get some water and a sweatshirt’. Coming around the curve, we found ourselves once again blocked off by police – this time with metal riot shields. I don’t know if anyone found them intimidating, but I couldn’t control the troll in me and took a picture in front of them. So far the march was peaceful – the police didn’t do much except watch and tell people to follow arbitrary rules that probably don’t exist. 

Round one - the star locates where we were blockaded by police.

We made it back to Liberty Square, where I split off with some of Raffi’s family and friends to grab a bite to eat. Amongst such kind and loving people, I allowed myself to inhale a gyro. It’s incredible that we even made it to 4 pm without food or water. At least for me…I tend to get grumpy when I’m hungry. At around 5:30, we reconnected with Raffi and some of his friends who happen to be my mutual friends of my dad from like 30 years ago (Hi Raffi Sarafian!). We walked together, arm in arm, to Liberty Square, where Raffi would address the people again as planned. 

I had the pleasure of being somewhat of a security force around the podium and stage area where Raffi speaks. It is incredible how many people don’t respect boundaries. Old ladies and drunk guys were constantly encroaching on our border, each one thinking they have some sort of right to stand wherever the heck they want. There was one old guy in particular – he was not listening to our demands for him to step back and shut up. I could feel my arms tightening up in anger. I looked at him with my infamous death glare and told him to walk back. With Raffi S. and Larisa, friends of the family, we held our ground. While the crowd seemed somewhat weaker than before, Raffi announced something about continuing our demands on Friday, when the crowd booed demanding that something be done now. He then announced that we would be walking to the palace then and now.

The mass was just as crazy as you would picture at a music festival. We originally wanted to stay close to Raffi and Armenouhi but couldn’t get through because of the uncontrollable crowd. Larisa and I grabbed arms and tried not to get trampled. We ran past the cars on Sayat Nova to get in front of the crowd. Upon doing so, we got closer and closer to Baghramyan 26, where a riot shield force 4 layers deep was waiting for us. Since I am a Call of Duty aficionado, I know just what to do – a sticky grenade and claymore should do the trick! (Just kidding of course…but really)

We were on the left side of the mass, while Raffi, Garin, Alec, and Armenouhi were in the middle. Some people began throwing rocks and things at the riot squad to provoke them. The mob pushed their way into the squad, trying to breach. We got shoved around and decided to not get trampled just yet. The riot squad warned us and told us to move back. I was astonished frankly, that they would threaten two women who weren’t doing anything. Someone even asked the guards – “Would you hit this old man? Would you hit these women?” Without hesitation, they answered ‘yes’. The shields slammed into our bodies. Larisa and I held our ground and used our weight and muscle as leverage to push back and not fall. I bet those guards were surprised – and hopefully afraid – of two skinny women!

 

Riot Shield squad vs. CITIZENS

Thankfully we didn’t get hurt. At this point, we hadn’t seen or heard from Garin or Alec in a while. Larisa’s phone battery died, so we used my phone to best keep in touch with what was going on. Somehow in all the chaos, Alec got arrested, one of the opposition’s highest leaders had his nose broken, and several others were injured. Raffi and several others were led back down towards Opera, when we later found out that they had walked to the Genocide Memorial, some 4 miles away. Half of the crowd joined them, while a couple thousand stayed with the riot wall, attempting a sit in. Several hours pass. At 10pm, we were rejoined by Raffi and Garin – even though we were told only 5 minutes previously to go back to Opera, where they would be. Dodging massive cameras and media clowns, we got close enough to show that we are okay and ready for more!

Eventually the guards ‘let’ us walk up Baghramyan – although not on the side of the palace, and we were supposed to stay on the sidewalk for ‘our own safety’. I presume safety doesn’t apply to riot shields. See, I always liked using the riot shield on Call of Duty because it annoyed people. I guess I kinda know what it is like now. +100…wait for it…fucking riot shielder!

The walk proceeded again past my house, which was so tempting, but alas I continued with team Raffi down to the square. Armenouhi embraced me and gave me a very thankful hug. The team exchanged hugs and goodnights and we parted ways, waiting what the next days would bring.

Star is where the 4 layer riot shields were. We doubled back down past the palace on the way back.

The day’s decisions are up for debate and complains, but that’s none of my business. Questions from today:

Where did these police come from? I’ve never seen this many in Yerevan before.

Why did they prohibit us from walking by the Presidential Palace? It’s not like we’d be able to hop the fence or anything. Unless we’re playing Plants vs. Zombies…

What does banging on a riot shield mean? We aren’t dogs. I don’t respond to noise.

Where is your honor, Armenia? Do you think hurting civilians is the way to make reparations with the people you lied to?

Serzh – go jump off a bridge. Or get run over by a marshrutka. That’s not a question, it’s a demand. 

Yes family/friends who were checking up on me: I couldn’t control getting into the action, and no I’m not hurt. In other news BORUSSIA DORTMUND halbfinale in a stunning win over Malaga! 

What would you do?

Shame - Ամօթ

I was born and raised in a suburb of Washington DC, capital of the United States of America. Being surrounded consciously and subconsciously by the overflow of politics, I was aware of their importance in 5^th grade. When a teacher was berating me for being the only one in my class to be a ‘conservative’, I figured out that politics is comparable to a popularity contest (until being isolated became a ‘hipster’ thing.) Since then, my opinions haven’t changed all that much; rather they developed into mature amalgamations of my morals, family influences, and independent experiences. I’ve learned from these experiences that if you want something, you have to be responsible to obtain it. Nobody will do it for you, and it is not the government’s responsibility. Before I begin a rant, I should get to the point…

Fast forward to 2013, Yerevan, Armenia. The presidential elections have been stewing in all of our minds for the last few months. Normally I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about elections, especially in a country in which I am not a citizen. However this time personal connections compelled me to be active in supporting the most genuine, honest, and well-qualified man to run for president in tiny Armenia. Raffi Hovannisian, US-born lawyer and politician to genocide survivors, has been a family friend for years, and was the MC at my parents’ wedding. I quickly educated myself on his presidential platforms and professional experience in Armenia. Raffi is western-educated but has culturally adapted to understand the delicate mentality that exists in Armenia today. This mentality stems from the Soviet-era, where everyone was ‘taken care of’ and nobody had to make an effort to make ends meet. I cannot understand this mentality for a few reasons - including my age and lack of exposure to this kind of lifestyle. (It is also important to note that I am unsympathetic to almost everything…)

Raffi K. Hovannisian

Rewind – I got my first job at 14, where I was a soccer referee. I was even given a cell phone for Christmas, so I could be ferried around by my parents from game to game. I worked for three years as a lifeguard and pool manager, followed by more academic internships – like teaching and researching. I was taught that if I wanted to buy the next gameboy (gameboy SP, in pink!), I would have to earn the money myself. This motivation has to come from within, but I am thankful for my parents for raising me to think this way. Back to Armenia – Yes, it is a young country. Yes, there are many people without jobs. Yes, many of them aren’t used to having to work to get what they want. But NO, I don’t see that as an excuse for being lazy. Those who support the current president, Mr. Serzh Sargsyan, are either rich rabiz scum because of the oligarchs they are a part of, or are content living under the poverty level because they are afraid of change. There is a middle class that is starting to raise its voice.  

Serzh Sargsyan in his younger years.

My participation in the Heritage Party’s campaign has been the best part of my living in Armenia so far. I personally trailed Baron Hovannisian on the first day of the campaign in Yerevan, and accompanied him and volunteers four other times on trips to other regions in Armenia. Every time, I was able to gain a deeper understanding of Armenian politics through the eyes of the people. The old women making cheese in Bangladesh (district), the toothless men working at the butchers in Hrazdan, and the genuine families campaigning with Raffi together have shown me that there are people ready to move mountains. I have heard him speak, his baritone voice drawing crowds in wherever he is. I have seen him shake hands with hundreds of people per day, greeting each with the same smile and blessing as the last. I am confident that his leadership would be an amazing thing for a country that is suffering with emigration problems and lack of jobs. I don’t think anyone in the immediate campaign force ever sleeps, because they are constantly working around the clock to make our dreams for Armenia a reality.  

The campaigning days were chock full with countless violations, including bribery, intimidation and passport fraud. These don’t compare to the violations that took place on Election Day. The most notable violations include ballot stuffing, paying off polling proxies, and even physical harassment of election monitors. For a full list, please check out http://raffi4president.am/en/violations

 

The scariest thing is that the supposed observation committee didn’t recognize the election process as fraudulent or impeded. They said it was ‘lackluster’ and ‘without competition’. These claims are of course not true, as noted by the physical and numeric evidence. Raffi won Gyumri, Vanadzor, and most of Yerevan. The reported exit polls are the exact same as the ‘official results’, which is impossible.  I don’t want to get too much into the ridiculousness of the tallying and misrepresentation of numbers, but rather focus on the big picture.

Crowd shot at press conference

I can’t say I’m surprised at how much of a circus these elections are, but it is quite synonymous with the way Armenian things have run in the past. For example, as a 14 year old, I wanted to be on AYF junior executive committee – the voting back then was full of fake ballots. The kids would rip their papers in half and submit two votes, and then vote for their friends who weren’t even there. The community couldn’t accept a generous donation to build a new church because they were too busy bickering on where it would be built. The Armenian Genocide Museum of America project has been scrapped because of arguing on what to call it. SO TRIVIAL. 

The big picture, from my honey colored Armenian-American eyes, is thus: Armenia is its own worst enemy. I’m not a peace-loving hippie monger but I see the same problem in Armenian politics (in Hayastan and the Diaspora) that has been handicapping our ability to get anything done. We fight with each other, and we can’t settle even this so we can take care of more important issues – like Genocide recognition, Artsakh, oligarchies, and foreign relations. If slimeball Serzh truly cares about the “future and security of Armenia”, he should hand it back to the people and let them choose who they want to lead them. 

Look for the only white coat...there's Ani!

Hajort Gayarane, WASHINGTON DC!

Privyet from Moscow - Whoa, time has flown. I’ve been here for 3.5 months, and it feels like I arrived 2 weeks ago – even though so much has happened. I’ve moved into an apartment [with Malte, volunteer from Bremen, Germany] very close to the city center, which has been a huge blessing (…Although the police have a pleasant habit of yelling into their megaphones at all hours of the day and night. What they yell is absolutely incomprehensible, although I’ve heard that they just yell to their other police car buddies. A great use of time and energy, I would say.)

Demirchyan poghots on a snowy morning.

I can’t believe I’m sitting in Moscow right now. It is damn expensive – I paid $14 for a fruit cup, a bottle of fizzy water, and a muffin. About a month ago, I was super excited to be going home. Nonetheless, I am still über excited; however, I know returning to Hayastan will be just as fun! My first impressions of the Armenian people weren’t exactly stellar, but things have really changed over the last few weeks. I’ve made friends with the nice lady in the bakery down the street, and I’ve exchanged glares with the security guards by the Greek consulate. Even some of the sellers at Venissage have taken me under their wing, welcoming my weekly visits and recalling some of the minutest details from our past conversations. I love being in Armenia – not only for Mount Ararat and the rest of my historical homeland, but also for the people in Birthright Armenia, local Yerevancis, and beloved marshrutka drivers.

Working with my B1 German students on their CVs

I was on Armenian TV a few days ago, where I was asked the question – “what is your general impression of Yerevan?” I responded quickly, telling the journalist that there was not one specific reason that I love Armenia, it is simply home. I was of course proud to flex my Western Armenian language skills, but more important, the message I communicated. Because the answer had been so spontaneous, I thought more about the conversation later, coming to the realization that I love my homeland and my inner nationalistic pride is starting to show itself ;-)

 Watch from minute 34 to witness some Depi Hayk glory!

My last few weeks have been spent wrapping up a German unit, decorating the Birthright Armenia Christmas tree, and working on BR’s eco-friendly recycled Christmas tree. Our recycled Christmas tree is made of cut up water bottles. It may sound simple, but it was quite the opposite. I spent 2 consecutive days cutting water bottles into spirals, which I would then weave into giant balls. My thumb is still sore 3 days later from the scissors, which have practically created a new knob in my thumb. Ach, übrigens – es gibt nen Weihnachtsmarkt in Eriwan! Er ist eigentlich der erste Weihnachtsmarkt Armeniens, aber ist ja schon cool. Nur 16 Buden, aber das Gefühl ist trotzdem nett. 

This picture doesn't capture how numb my thumb is.

I'll miss you all in Yerevan for the 2 weeks I'm gone. Hopefully I'll eat my body weight in Thai food, spend time with family and friends, and update my winter clothing collection. I miss real napkins, hot showers, my parrot, civilized behavior in supermarkets, and Asian food. Stay classy, EPEBAH!

Please & Շնորհակալություն

             Giving Thanks – After almost three months of living in Armenia, I have a lot to be thankful for. First, I want to thank my parents, Ara & Shoghig, for all the support they’ve provided me. Thank you Loreeg, for continuing to be the best sister ever – though I presume you should be thanking me for leaving clothes behind in my closet which I’m sure are now on your floor. And Aram, for sending me ridiculous memes (I hope we’ll end up at UVA next year!) Also, I miss my parrot more than anything in the world. 

                This year we celebrated Thanksgiving at one of our fellow volunteer’s apartments. She was generous enough to host a majority of the American-Armenian BR community and pretty much threw the best home-away-from-home Thanksgiving party. I brought my friend Simon (Syria) along to experience his first Thanksgiving. I enjoyed all the skeptical looks he gave to new and strange foods. 

Thanksgiving 2012

The last two weeks have been very challenging for me emotionally.  I knew it was coming, but I didn’t think it would be this hard. Seto, the closest friend I made through Birthright Armenia finished his service and flew back to Syria. We became friends on day one, when he walked into the office and said “parev, yes gamavor em” assuming I was a staff member of BR. To his surprise, I answered “yes al gamavor em”.  The first evening after the orientation, we took the bus back together, realizing that we live pretty close to each other. Just a 15 minute walk over the Kievyan Gamoo—Most. ..

Seto was my Armenian language teacher (Western) and fellow comedian. We wrote two songs together, including the infamous Marshrutka song and Yerevani Rabizneri. He skyped with my grandparents, discovered that my mother’s mother was indeed born in Kesab, Syria. We were pretty much inseparable for the two and a half months he was here. Five of us accompanied him to the airport, and I had been dreading the last goodbye (not forever, but for a while).  Seto, I don’t think anyone can forget all the craziness we experienced including – singing in the marshrutka, speaking hayastanci without laughing, singing the marshrutka song in Calumet, the trips to Artsakh and Gyumri, and of course the goodbye party. Simon is also leaving Armenia in less than a week; Yerevan won’t be the same without my Syrian buddies!

Damascus can't compare to this!

On a more positive note, I am moving into an apartment! Bye bye Halabyan, hello Demirchyan! I hear that most of the long term volunteers end up in an apartment at some point or another. It is located very close to Gentron, which will cut travel time in half. I will be sharing a flat with a volunteer from Germany. Malte looks like your typical German – blond with blue eyes.  I introduced him to his first lahmajoon at Mer Taghe. The waiter who was serving us was of course confused by the German spoken between us, and then the Armenian I spoke with him. He asked “Is he your brother? You look similar.” After I said no (obviously, I have dark hair and dark skin), he said “Oh, you’re married.” Again, no. Malte didn’t understand this short conversation and after I explained it we laughed for several minutes. The three languages I speak have been put into a blender that doesn’t stop…Today I woke up thinking in German, I greeted the lady at the supermarket in Armenian blended with English (it was 7:30 AM), and worked with the kiddies at school in soviet English. 

Of my three volunteer placements, I enjoy working with my German students the most. They are very bright and help me with Armenian, although I refuse to learn Eastern ;-). Our latest project was to create a menu for a restaurant, using their Partizip II skills to describe the different kinds of food they are advertising. 

I bought a furry Russian hat over the weekend. The lady selling it didn’t have many teeth but was really funny and gave me a Soviet era pin to put on the hat. I also visited the crazy shooga by the stadium. There was so much Engrish (foreigner English) to be found, but I got yelled at for taking a picture…again. 

Current/Future projects: children’s acrobatic show with Evelina, Komitas piano & voice duet with Julieta, decorating the new apartment, and more trolling around Yerevan.