The Hovsepyans are a testament to the strength of a mother's love

by Nyree Abrahamian

Published: Thursday March 26, 2009

1. The Hovsepyan family: Back: Hayrapet (26), Hrant (21), Hayk (16), Hakob (19), Anahit (28), Murad (21), Gayane (21) Front: Susan (19), Serob (11), Gurgen (11), Larissa, Linda (10), Ashot (10) Absent: Ruzan (38), Andranik (26).

Yerevan - In Yerevan, if you're looking for anyone under the age of 15 after school hours, chances are, you'll find them in a bak. A bak is a courtyard/parking lot area usually shared by several apartment buildings. Walk through any bak and you're sure to encounter children of all ages who live in the surrounding buildings playing tag, playing soccer, or up to some kind of mischief. The bak by St. Zoravar Church in central Yerevan is no different, except for one thing: most of the kids come from the same family.

Meet the Hovespyan family. Mother, 67-year-old Larissa, 15 adopted children from all over the world, and six grandchildren. The Hovespyans' notoriety extends well beyond their bak. Often featured in the media, Larissa and her multiethnic family have become something of a household name in Armenia.

It all started in 1982. After having raised the child of a relative for several years, Larissa, who was widowed, decided to adopt a child. At the time, she explains, she was a filmmaker, and would often travel to different parts of the Soviet Union to make films. From Lithuania, she adopted her first child, whom she named Hayrapet, after her father. "At the time, there were very few orphanages in Armenia, because there were very few orphans," she explains. "There wouldn't be more than 10-20 abandoned children per year. Lithuania, which was also a small country with a population of only 3 million, had 22 orphanages." Hayrapet, who is of Russian origin, will be 27 in May. He is now married and has a family of his own.

In 1984, she would adopt two more children from Lithuania: Andranik (26) and Anahit (28). Andranik is of Lithuanian origin and Anahit is believed to be of Karaim origin, although it is not know for certain. She was abandoned at Vilnius airport. Then came Ruzan (38), an Azerbaijani girl born in one of the Armenian villages that was densely populated with Azerbaijanis before the war broke out and the population exchange happened.

By this time, the media was starting to take notice of Larissa and her ever-growing family. There were several articles written about her, and even a film commissioned by the central Soviet film bureau in 1988, and as a result, she became known throughout Yerevan. She became the unofficial mother to the troubled youth of the city. Many kids would come and stay with her for short periods of time.

Soon after, Larissa tried to return to Lithuania to adopt the siblings of one of her adopted children, but by this time, Lithuania had already broken with the Soviet Union, and she was denied entry. Instead, she went to Minsk, the capital of Belarus, where she tried to adopt six children, but was only successful with three: Murad (Ukrainian), Hrant (Angolan), and Gayane (Ethiopian-Russian). All three are now 21 years old.

Things were going well for the Hovsepyan family until the early years of Armenian independence. Of course, Larissa had her hands full with laundry, cooking, homework, and everything in between, but she liked it that way.

"Under the Soviet Union, my family was considered a ‘family-orphanage,'" says the mother of 15. That meant that the state allotted them suitable housing, a minibus, furniture, and all the necessities. Plus, they had a teacher, a doctor, a driver, and a cook. In the early 1990s, almost immediately after independence, the two properties that the government had provided for them became the property of city hall and were subsequently sold, leaving the Hovsepyan family homeless. "In those early years, when there was no electricity, we had moved temporarily to our driver's house in the village," says Larissa, "We came back to see that our home was sold off. We were put out on the street. Just like that."

While the family stayed with different friends, Larissa was on the lookout for a new home. In 1997, she found their current ground-floor apartment and realized that it was abandoned. So she moved her family in. Since it is legally state property, they were evicted on a few occasions, only to move back in as soon as they found an opportune chance. Since 1997, Larissa has been fighting the government and knocking on every door to obtain ownership of the property. "My father is from Mush and my mother is from Rostov," she says with pride, "Both Mushetsis and Rostov Armenians are known for their strength. So you can say I have a strong base." Finally, this March, after a 12-year struggle, she got the title deed.

Over the years, Larissa would continue to adopt children and provide temporary care for anyone who needed it. Today though some of the older children have moved out and formed families of their own, the bak, kitchen, living room, and every nook and cranny of the Hovsepyan household are always filled with the lively voices of children. Three of her grandchildren now live with her as well.

Of course, like any family, there are fights. "People expect my kids to be perfect, but we're a family, aren't we? Of course there are fights," says Larissa. "The older ones pick on the younger ones, the younger ones try to get the older ones in trouble." Hrant, who is playing video games in the corner, shakes his head and laughs.

At 21, he has become a well-loved figure not only in his neighborhood, but all over the country. Hrant is a singer. Since he was a child, he has been bringing crowds to their feet with his renditions of Armenian folk songs, revolutionary songs, and the kind of music that gets people dancing. He is also part of an Armenian hip hop group called H.A.Y.Q., whose hit single, "Kami Pchi" was one of the biggest songs of summer 2007 in Armenia. He and sister Gayane, who also loves to sing but has other career ambitions, have even wowed audiences in Los Angeles.