Genocide survivors defy age and torment

by Tom Vartabedian

Published: Monday April 19, 2010

The author's mother Jennie Vartabedian is pictured on right. Courtesy photo.

Haverhill, Mass. - My mother represents a model of inspiration. So do 6 other survivors of the Armenian Genocide currently in my small community of Merrimack Valley.

They all mean a lot to me because they represent the last visages of torment and suffering which befell our nation back 95 years ago.

To us, that represents an eternity. To them - the elite class - it's like history being relived day after day. Such memories are never outdated, much less the hurt. Their strength has become our fortress in a world marked by denial and continued abuse.

My mother fell inside a nursing home and suffered a badly bruised face. Just prior to that, she overcame a bout of pneumonia and another fall which fractured her hip.

One nurse called her "the bionic woman." Another wanted to know if she had some secret charm that led to repeated recovery.

"I survived a genocide," she told inquisitors. "If you can survive a genocide, you can survive most anything."

And with that, she let out a wry smile.

I would imagine that each of the other five survivors have their stories. And all of them are tragic, whether it was the loss of a spouse, child or another loved one.

But not the loss of dignity. Each of them, regardless of circumstance, can boast of endurance and, above all, a venerable spirit. The ruins of Moush and Kharpet look down upon them with grit. The genius of Mesrop has been their lighthouse in a sea of darkness.

Generations have come and gone as the language and history continue to remain the Mother Soul of our nation.

My mother and her sister were products of Diarbekir where life was anything but glamorous. Armenians throughout the country had become subjects of persecution and their family was no exception.

They were driven from their home, their father murdered and their mother forced to flee with two young daughters. Together, they made the harrowing trek across the arid desert.

Through some miraculous fate, they wound up in a deportation program in Syria and eventually immigrated to America where they married and raised families.

Both Jennie Vartabedian and her sister Virginia Fundeklian wound up three miles apart in Haverhill nursing homes after escaping the genocide, sharing a life together with their families in Greater Boston. They personified every aspect of culture and heritage.

They became people of character and distinction. Each year the list gets smaller - and smaller. One day the tribute will be reserved for centenarians only, as remarkable as that might appear.

The sister died, leaving my mother as the sole genocide survivor in Haverhill.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring for any of our survivors, whether they are kin or not? May they continue to sustain us in a world often marked by bedlam and chaos.

As we gather for the 95th anniversary, let us recognize the 1.5 million martyrs but, at the same time, applaud those survivors who continue to give this observance added meaning.

They are the reason why we cultivate our own lives and attempt to keep our families Armenian in what we call a Diaspora.

As we in Merrimack Valley and Southern New Hampshire pay homage, so will others in New York City, Boston and elsewhere throughout the world.

It is a time for renewed strength ... a time to count our blessings and look to the future with faith and confidence.

The song of the plough will again be heard and the smoke will rise once more from our ancestral chimneys. The lakes of Van and Sevan continue to wake from their long decades of slumber.

If you are a survivor, I will tell you this. We must dream less and strive more. And be fearless of death, too.

And if death is the price it should be, let Armenia become all the richer for it.