InternationalArminé of Artsakh and the spirit of the season
Published: Friday December 18, 2009 in Living in Armenia
Every morning when Arminé woke up, there would be a question on her mind: would the war end today so that she could finally ride her orange tricycle?.
Yerevan - She has large, dark eyes that take up half her face, an infectious smile that rarely fades, and an inexplicable charisma that draws people to her. Her name is Arminé and her provenance is Artsakh.
This bright young woman from a country whose destiny is yet to be determined could very well be the symbol of the optimism and hope that some of us seem to have lost somewhere along the way.
The Karabakh Movement was the precursor for the monumental changes that the Armenian nation would experience. These changes would mark a shift in the traditional paradigm of what it meant to be Armenian in the world. It meant victory on the battlefront, it meant independence, it meant nation-building. Victory, independence, and nation-building were concepts that we privately believed no longer applied to us. After all, victory and Armenia hadn't been synonymous for quite some time.
Today, more than 20 years after the Karabakh Movement, the Armenian nation, although victorious, is still nursing the wounds of the past and the not-so-distant past. For some reason we had and continue to have difficulty comprehending victory, and the dream of independence was forever tarnished for those who had to endure so much turbulence and upheaval in the early years. They still leave. The concept of nation-building has been distorted as well.
Just when your hope for the future of this country is beginning to wane, you encounter someone like Arminé. Born just a few years before the Karabakh Movement began, in the city of Martuni in Artsakh, she has seen enough heartache and pain to last her several lifetimes. But you wouldn't know of her heartache and pain because of that persistent smile of hers.
As the holiday season is upon us, take a moment to reflect and remember what has come to pass. 2010 will mark the 95th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide. So many perished and so much land lost. In the meantime, the babies and children of the Karabakh War who stayed on their ancestral lands are now young adults, studying, working, and serving their country.
Remember the victory in Artsakh; the liberated lands and living witnesses to that amazing time in our people's history. Remember the heroes who fought in the trenches, the mothers who lost sons, the wives who became widows, and an entire generation of children who became orphaned. They are alive and they are the living testimony of our victory.
Remember the story of Arminé.
When Azerbaijani military aggression turned into full-blown war, Arminé and her family and thousands like them found themselves in the eye of the storm. Imagine being a five year old and having to understand what war is, what kind of danger it entails, and why it happens. Sadly, the children of Karabakh quickly had to learn and understand the meaning of war. Instead of playing, as children ought to do, they were forced to run and hide in bomb shelters.
The orange tricycle
Arminé remembers the orange tricycle her father had given to her as a birthday present. "I never even got a chance to ride that tricycle," she recalls sadly. "My father hid it in the attic and told me that the war would soon be over and I would be able to ride it." Every morning when Arminé woke up, there would be a question on her mind: would the war end today so that she could finally ride her bike? After a while, she doesn't remember when, the tricycle mysteriously disappeared. Arminé suspects her grandfather got rid of it.
Her toys suffered the same fate. Arminé's mother hid all her toys in the cellar, in a wooden chest, and locked it with a heavy metal lock. A child engrossed in her toys might not be alert enough to react quickly in a sudden enemy attack, they reasoned. "Even today, I have a weakness for toys because as I child I never got a chance to play with them," Arminé says.
Today when she hears the word "war," she remembers the fear in her mother's eyes every time the bombing would start. "That forces you to grow up quickly," Arminé says. "I remember how in a few days time my mother's hair turned white."
During the years of the war, they would have electricity for one to two hours daily. Whenever the lights would come on, her grandfather would run to the television to see if the Russian stations were reporting about the fact that they were in a blockade and that there was a war taking place. He would be disappointed every time and would say, "No matter. One day they will talk about us."
Arminé is fulfilling her grandfather's dream. She is currently studying journalism at the Caucasus Institute in Yerevan and she has no qualms about where she will end up. She knows that she will always stay in Armenia and Artsakh and work to help empower her nation. She knows she is on the path to realizing her grandfather's dream that she study and become a journalist so that one day she would write about what took place in Artsakh.
The day that changed everything
One day came the devastating news. "I always remember my mother's words the day when she told my brother and me, ‘You have to continue your father's work and you are obliged to tie yourself to this land,'" she recalls.
"Even though I was only five years old when my father died in the war, I remember him vividly,"Arminé tells me. Her father was the chief agronomist in the region of Martuni and when the fighting broke out, he was one of the first to volunteer with the other freedom fighters. He operated the tanks and every Saturday he would try to come back home to sit under the mulberry tree and watch his children.
Arminé's father was killed during the battle of Kyulablur. She has difficulty talking or writing about her memories of her father. Maybe one day....
