In May 2014, I was traveling from Van to Kars with my wife and a group of close friends. Not long after passing the northeast-most corner of Lake Van, I was looking up at the countryside when a structure along the mountain ridge caught my eye, and I had our driver stop. There was no access for our vehicle, and the structure was too far in the distance to walk, but I grabbed my most powerful camera lens and took some photographs of what was obviously a church.

With a bit of research, I was able to determine that the church was known as Sourp Sdepanos, located in the region of Pergri or Berkri, which is now known as Muradiye. The church was dedicated to the son of the priest, Der Housgan. 

The Research on Armenian Architecture collection by Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute details an interesting legend surrounding the church. It is said that the wife of Der Housgan was kidnapped by Tatar soldiers and sold to a Christian woman in Tabriz. This woman agreed to release Der Housgan’s wife if a son was born to the couple and committed to the priesthood. “The son that was born, whom they named Sdepanos, did indeed display saintly ways and powers, and a great passion for helping the poor.” Der Sdepanos is considered to have died at the end of the 13th century, and the church was built in his honor.

It is believed that the original church was destroyed by the 17th century. The current church was built sometime during the same century through the efforts of Pilibos I, Catholicos of Aghtamar. 

Various Turkish media outlets recently reported on a new road being constructed by the Muradiye municipality to improve access to the Sourp Sdepanos church. The primary objective is to encourage tourism. It is claimed that the Museum in Van has initiated research on the church and that Mehmet Top, a faculty member at Van Yüzüncü Yıl Üniversitesi, has been investigating the church over a number of years. While acknowledging the role “man” has played in the destruction of the church, equal attribution is given to natural conditions. 

Anyone who has traveled over a period of time in the region of Van, and elsewhere in Turkey, can well imagine the role looters and treasure seekers have played in the years since the Genocide, prior to which the Armenians constituted at least two-thirds of the population in the region of Pergri. 

Just as significant are the ruins of an even older Armenian monastery of Arkelan on the cliffs above Sourp Sdepanos. The monastic complex included the church of Sourp Asdvadzadzin and dates to a much earlier period, most probably prior to the 11th century. The monastery was famous as a scriptorium, producing important manuscripts into the 17th century. We can see that the monastery is largely in ruins from satellite imagery, yet there still are remnants. J. M. Thierry, in his volume on the Armenian monuments of Vasbouragan, details the Armenian inscriptions at both sites and includes numerous photographs.

It remains to be seen if the increased accessibility to the church ruins will decrease or increase the likelihood of further vandalism. As we see even today, the security of both Armenians and our cultural heritage cannot be taken for granted.

Author information

George Aghjayan

George Aghjayan is the Director of the Armenian Historical Archives and the chair of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) Central Committee of the Eastern United States. Aghjayan graduated with honors from Worcester Polytechnic Institute in 1988 with a Bachelor of Science degree in Actuarial Mathematics. He achieved Fellowship in the Society of Actuaries in 1996. After a career in both insurance and structured finance, Aghjayan retired in 2014 to concentrate on Armenian related research and projects. His primary area of focus is the demographics and geography of western Armenia as well as a keen interest in the hidden Armenians living there today. Other topics he has written and lectured on include Armenian genealogy and genocide denial. He is a board member of the National Association of Armenian Studies and Research (NAASR), a frequent contributor to the Armenian Weekly and Houshamadyan.org, and the creator and curator westernarmenia.weebly.com, a website dedicated to the preservation of Armenian culture in Western Armenia.

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Armenian Women Artists (AWA) is an educational and historically oriented Instagram page that aims to bring awareness and recognition to Armenian women artists, both in Armenia and the diaspora. I created the account in 2018, prompted by an academic interest of mine in Armenian art history and a personal desire to learn more about the artistic and social contributions of Armenian women. 

Formally trained as an archivist and researcher, I am both personally and professionally dedicated to the preservation and accessibility of cultural heritage, and Instagram has served as an appropriate platform to present these often-underrepresented figures from our collective history. What began as a modest attempt to brush up on my own lack of knowledge and awareness of Armenian women artists has transformed into a shared space for recollection, remembrance and a sense of belonging where others can connect with mutual narratives.  

The catalyst for the project was the great Soviet artist Mariam Aslamazyan (1907-2006). Inspired by both her paintings and the international respect and acknowledgment she received from her work as a cultural diplomat, I soon discovered a whole world of Armenian women who made a significant impact not just in Armenian society, but in the broader culture society that they were a part of, be it Russian, Ottoman, Persian, Soviet or American. 

Unsurprisingly, given the geographical range of the Armenian diaspora, both leading up to and following the Armenian Genocide, the women that I feature come from all over the world, often the first among their peers to pave the way for a variety of creative pursuits and social developments. From Iraq’s first concert pianist and first female composer Beatrice Ohanessian (1927-2008), to Iran’s first woman to perform on stage and direct a play Varto Terian (1896-1974), to France’s first French female oceanographer Anita Conti (1899-1997), Armenian women were perceived as intellectual and moral leaders among Armenian and non-Armenian audiences alike.

In addition to geographical range, it’s important for me to show a range of socio-economic and cultural backgrounds, individuals who were able to overcome struggles and challenges in life, be it economic, political or social. I also wanted to push back against certain strands of contemporary feminism, which, from my perspective, can tend to oversimplify the role of gender in society. I strive to share stories where we find women taking responsibility for their lives and, most importantly, where men and women support one another in an egalitarian way towards the betterment of society and culture. 

For example, Syrian-born painter, Armine Galentz (1920-2007), who was the only woman artist in Aleppo during her time, always had the support of her husband Haroutiun Galentz (1910-1967) both in Beirut where they met and in Yerevan, where they repatriated in 1946. Despite initially facing harsh criticism from the Artists’ Union of Armenia and after years of financial hardship, they were eventually embraced by the Union. Galentz was featured in several shows, including the first exhibition of works by Armenian repatriates, where she was the only female participant. She held her first solo exhibition in Yerevan in 1962.

Although at times controversial, I also try to showcase so-called “hidden” Armenian artists from Turkey, who kept their Armenian identity hidden to survive and thrive in Turkish culture and society. Renowned Turkish folk singer Zehra Bilir (1913-2007) was born Eliza Ölçüyan but lived her life as a Turk, choosing not to publicly embrace her Armenian roots. By collecting and sharing these stories, my aim is to challenge our understanding of the parameters of Armenian identity by showcasing a diverse array of Armenian women, artistic practices and their experiences. 

To this end, there is a quote I like very much by one of my favorite minority French-Canadian women writers, Gabrielle Roy: “Could we ever know each other in the slightest without the arts?” This sums up so succinctly what I believe is both the progressive and critical function of the arts; at the highest level, art is not just a kind of individual expression, but also a kind of intellectual diplomacy. I don’t mean we always have to agree, but we should at least know how to engage with and understand each other. I think art is at its most successful, impressive and universal when its artistic ambitions are high, and its social pretensions modest, as outlined by Roy. Cultural and intellectual exchanges allow us to understand what makes each other distinct.

Moving forward, I’d like to continue to engage in this spirit and interact with artists and curators on a more intimate level. I’m open to publishing a book or organizing public exhibitions, workshops and lectures with an eye towards developing an online database where researchers, artists and educators can access this knowledge. Ideally, this engagement will help facilitate dialogues and interactions. 

Today, perhaps more than ever, Armenians all over the world are feeling a sense of cynicism and hopelessness when it comes to the preservation of our cultural identities. However, despite the constant tragedies and threats we face, we sometimes need reminders of how far we’ve come and the potential we have within ourselves to persevere and succeed, as our ancestors have done before us. The contributions made by Armenians, both men and women, are endless, and I feel proud to be part of a community where the role of art and cultural heritage is seen as essential in shaping our society. I couldn’t be more grateful for the support and positive feedback I’ve received, and I’ve been lucky to encounter many thoughtful, creative and engaged individuals through the account.

Painter Vava Khatchadourian was born on February 12, 1895, in Trebizond, Ottoman Empire (present-day Trabzon, Turkey) and spent most of her childhood in Batumi. Prior to pursuing an artistic career, Khatchadourian lived in Vienna and Paris, where she modeled for the famous French painter Henri Matisse and others. 

In 1920, she married famed painter and muralist Sarkis Khatchadourian in Tiflis. After extensive travels around the world, including several years living in India and Iran, Vava and Sarkis settled in New York to begin a new life in 1941. She started painting in 1945. Her works can be found at the National Gallery of Armenia and private collections. She died of cancer in 1984 in Manhattan, New York. 

Elbis Ferahian was born in 1907 into a cultural family in Tehran, Iran. After completing her primary education in Iran, she moved to Vienna with her family. Due to the outbreak of World War I, the Ferahian family settled in Tbilisi, where Ferahian completed her secondary education. She later settled in Soviet Armenia where she worked at a kindergarten. 

After years of teaching in Yerevan and Tbilisi, Ferahian returned to Iran in the early 1930s. She taught at the Iran Bethel School for Girls and shortly after established her own kindergarten. In 1936, Reza Shah Pahlavi, then Prime Minister of Iran, ordered the closure of Armenian schools in Iran, at the request of Turkish president Kemal Atatürk. Ferahian’s kindergarten was thus subject to the decree. 

In 1941, Armenian schools were allowed to reopen after the overthrow of Reza Shah, and Ferahian was invited to establish an independent Armenian kindergarten by the board of trustees of the Davidian School, which opened in 1942. The kindergarten, called “Koushesh” (Armenian for kindergarten) operated under her direct supervision for 35 years. It continues to be one of the most important educational centers for Armenians in Iran. 

In addition to her educational activities, Ferahian also composed children’s songs and hymns, which are still performed by and taught to children today. Ferahian died in 1994 in Tehran and was laid to rest at the Nor Burastan Cemetery, the Armenian cemetery.

Salma Kouyoumjian was born on December 26, 1907 in Ruse, Bulgaria. Her family originated from Western Armenia and was forced to flee the Ottoman Empire in 1907 as the policies of Abdul Hamid II’s government against the Armenians intensified. She earned a bachelor’s degree in archaeology at the École du Louvre in Paris.

Following her studies, Kouyoumjian served as one of the three secretaries of the Société des Études Iraniennes et de l’Art Persan for four years. During this time, she met and married Mohsen Moghadam, an Iranian painter and archaeologist and one of the founders of the Faculty of Fine Arts of the University of Tehran. 

Kouyoumjian studied Iranian archaeology of the Sassanid period and archaeology of India and China. She and her husband were both hired by the Iranian Ministry of Culture and served as technical inspectors of the Antiquities Authority during the French excavations in Susa, Khuzestan Province, Iran. 

Following her retirement from the Ministry of Culture on June 20, 1964, Kouyoumjian worked in The Parliamentary Library of Iran. She passed away in 1990, four years after her husband. She is buried in the Armenian cemetery in Tehran. Their home in Tehran was transformed into the Moghadam Museum and was bequeathed to the University of Tehran in their memory. 

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The late French actress, writer and photographer Hermine Karagheuz was born on December 2, 1938 in the southwestern suburb of Issy-les-Moulineaux, Paris, France, into a family of exiled Armenian orphans with little means. 

She made her theatrical debut in Liliane Atlan’s adaptation of “Monsieur Fugue” by Roland Monod in 1967. Through a series of encounters and small roles on stage, she met the notable French actor and director Roger Blin (with whom she later shared her life) and performed in several of his creations. Critics noticed Karagheuz in 1973 after she appeared on stage in Patrice Chéreau’s mythical play adapted from Pierre de Marivaux’s now legendary “La Dispute” at the Gaîté Lyrique in Paris. She would go on to perform in some 30 productions from the mid-1970s to the early 2000s. 

In addition to theatre, she also made a few furtive film appearances, first in Francois Billetdoux’s “The Wednesday Play: Pitchi Poi” in 1967, and later in smaller roles for Jacques Baratier, Joseph Losey and Jeanne Moreau. But it was in front of Jacques Rivette’s camera that the actress truly revealed herself, embracing the surrealist roles of the French New Wave director. 

A multifaceted and multi-talented artist with an unforgettable screen presence, Karagheuz reflected her vision of the world in her own creations. Sadly, she passed away this past April 30 in Paris at the age of 82.

Lucy Ashjian was born in 1907 in Indianapolis to Armenian refugees who had fled the Ottoman Empire. She grew up watching the rise of fascism throughout Europe and reading about the Armenian Genocide of 1915. 

After moving to New York City in the 1930s, Ashjian and her husband, journalist Charles Preston, joined the Communist Party, a common affiliation of intellectuals and progressives in that period. In 1937, Ashjian, who developed a serious interest in photography, graduated from the Clarence White’s School of Photography. 

That same year Ashjian joined the legendary New York Photo League, a progressive collective of amateur and professional photographers who saw documentary photography as a vital element of the movement for radical social change. The League, which included greats such as Lewis Hine, Paul Strand and Berenice Abbott, had its origins in the Workers International Relief, a communist organization based in Berlin which formed in 1921. 

Ashjian was an active and respected member of the League, serving two terms as vice president and participating in several of the League’s best-known projects, including “Harlem Document,” which documented the historical African-American neighborhood of Harlem. However, despite having played a prominent role in the world of New York photography, Ashjian is yet to fully be recognized for her talent and remains a relatively unknown figure. 

Sadly, her promising career was cut short after moving back to Indianapolis in 1943 after her husband abandoned her and their young child. After her passing in 1993, only 150 prints and a box of negatives were left as evidence of her contribution to the history of photography. Her works are held in the permanent collections of the Met Museum, the Center for Creative Photography and the Museum of the City of New York.

Anna Davidovna Abamelik-Lazareva (Lazarian) was a Russian-Armenian translator, lady-in-waiting, socialite and public figure. She was born on April 15, 1814 in St. Petersburg, Russian Empire into the Abamelik family, a noble family of Armenian origin in the Kingdom of Georgia, and then in the Russian Empire.

From an early age, Abamelik-Lazareva was passionate about literature and the study of foreign languages. She received an excellent education and was fluent in English, French, Armenian, Georgian, German and Greek. She devoted her life to literary translations and translated poems by Alexander Pushkin and Mikhail Lermontov, amongst others, from Russian into English and French. She also translated works by prominent European poets, such as Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Lord Byron, into Russian. In addition to her translation work, she was also in charge of several educational and musical institutions in St. Petersburg. 

She was married to the governor of Kazan, Irakli Baratinsky, the brother of Russian poet Yevgeny Baratinsky. Having had no children, Abamelik-Lazareva dedicated the last few years of life to charity, collecting donations during the Crimean War to help support wounded soldiers. She died in St. Petersburg on November 25, 1889.

Born in 1926 into an established Armenian family, Madam Anahit spent most of her life in and around the district of Beyoğlu, once the lively cosmopolitan center of the old city. At the age of 16, while attending the Esayan Armenian School, she joined the school choir where her passion for music developed. She was first introduced to the accordion on Heybeliada, one of the Princes Islands near Istanbul, where she spent her summers as a young girl. Shortly after, she started taking lessons and continued to play until the end of her life. A staple of Çiçek Pasajı, Madam Anahit would play for guests dining at the various historic cafes, tavernas and restaurants. 

As the years passed, however, the demographics of Beyoğlu changed and Madam Anahit’s presence was no longer welcome. The respect and admiration that she had garnered from the locals had vanished. In addition, in the 1980s, the city of Istanbul seized and destroyed the apartment she had inherited, forcing her to live elsewhere. Despite these challenges, she remained determined to fight for her survival as a musician. 

An avid animal lover and rights advocate, she was also the vice-president of the Animal-Lovers Economic and Agricultural Party, which aims to stop the poisoning and shooting of dogs and cats both in Istanbul and other cities. She once stated, “People who can’t treat animals properly can’t treat people properly.” 

Although she did not receive the recognition she deserved, Madam Anahit is remembered as an indispensable part of Beyoğlu’s cultural heritage. She passed away in Istanbul on August 29, 2003 and was laid to rest in the Armenian cemetery in Şişli.

Zabelle Boyajian was born on March 27, 1873 in Diyarbakir, Ottoman Empire, the daughter of Baron Thomas Boyajian, British Vice-Consul in Diyarbakir and Harput, and Catherine Rogers, a descendant of the English poet Samuel Rogers. She received her education in Armenian and English, while also learning Turkish, French and Italian. 

In 1895, her father fell victim to the Hamidian massacres (1894-1896). Following this tragic life-changing event, Boyajian moved to London with her brother and mother. She enrolled at the Slade School of Fine Arts where she started writing and illustrating her own books. She held her first solo exhibition in 1910 in London and went on to publish and translate several books which highlighted the enduring spirit of Armenia and its cultural heritage. An active member of the Armenian community, Boyajian was a significant driving force behind cultural life and fundraising during WWI.

Boyajian is probably most remembered for the illustrated anthology “Armenian Legends and Poems.” Introduced by Viscount James Bryce, the anthology includes a collection of translations of Armenian literature from the Middle Ages interspersed with poetry from the 19th century. In addition to translating and publishing Armenian poems, Boyajian was also a Shakespeare enthusiast and participated in one of the many commemorative festivals that took place on the 300th anniversary of his death on April 23, 1916. She recited her personal ode to the Bard titled, “Armenia’s Love to Shakespeare” and wrote essays on Shakespeare as well as comparative works on English and Armenian literature. She died on January 26, 1957 in London, England.

Lilit Karapetyan was born on January 28, 1963, in Yerevan, Armenian SSR, into a family where music was highly valued. She studied at the Anton Chekhov School No. 55 in Yerevan, and at the same time, she graduated from the guitar class of Zhanna Sheldzhyan at the Tigran Chukhajian Music School. In 1980, she started studying the oud at the Komitas State Conservatory of Yerevan.

In 1981, while still a student, Karapetyan became one of the founding members of the Sharakan Ancient Music Ensemble (later named Tagharan Ancient Music Ensemble) where she played the oud, lute and guitar. She toured with the ensemble in concerts around Armenia and musical centers of the former Soviet Union, in addition to Uruguay, Brazil and Argentina. 

As a performer, she made many adaptations and transcriptions of medieval and modern Armenian and European composers for the oud and guitar. In 1986, she participated in the first international competition of folk instruments in Baku where she won second prize. 

Due to illness, Karapetyan gave up her performing activities in 2003 and dedicated her time to teaching the oud and classical guitar until the end of her short but fruitful life. She died on October 22, 2006 in Yerevan, Armenia at the age of 43.

Artist and ceramic painter Marie Balian was born on January 25, 1925, in Marseille, France. Her family hailed from the small town of Kütahya, Ottoman Empire (present-day Turkey), which is known for its historical Armenian ceramic industry. 

She lived in Lyon with her mother Manoushag and her sister Haigouhi. Demonstrating an early interest in fine art, Balian studied at the École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts where she received several first prizes. However, due to financial difficulties, she was unable to finish her degree. 

In 1954, she met and fell in love with Setrag Balian, whom she married a year later in Bethlehem, Palestine. In 1955, the Balians moved to Amman, Jordan where they had three children: Sylva, Neshan and Ohan. From 1964 until 2015, Balian was an indispensable part of her family’s ceramic studio in East Jerusalem, where she served as the master painter. In 2017, after two years of deteriorating health, she quietly passed away in the same studio where she worked for the past 50 years. 

Today, the Balian family business is managed by Neshan Balian Jr., the son of Marie and Setrag Balian, and his three children, Kegham, Nanor and Setrag. The famous studio continues to produce unique hand-painted and custom ceramic tiles and pottery items. It remains one of the oldest businesses in existence in Jerusalem.

Author information

Cassandra Tavukciyan

Cassandra Tavukciyan is an archivist and researcher. She holds a Master of Arts in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University and a Bachelor of Fine Arts from Emily Carr University of Art and Design. She has held positions at the Multicultural History Society of Ontario, the New York Public Library, the Ryerson Image Centre and the Sara Corning Centre for Genocide Studies and is currently serving as Specialist, Digital Collections Management at the Canadian Museum of History. In her spare time, she manages an educational and historically oriented Instagram page (@armenian_women_artists), where she brings awareness and recognition to Armenian women artists, both in Armenia and in diaspora communities.

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In the spring of 1915, Nigoghos Mazadoorian and his father Garabed came across an early ripening mulberry tree while walking through their orchards in Ichmeh, a village in the Ottoman Armenian province Kharpert. As per the traditional way of collecting mulberries, Nigoghos climbed the tree and shook the branches, and the father and son gathered the fruit that fell to the ground.

“We have tasted the first mulberries of the season. We shall not die this year,” Garabed prophesied. 

This is one of many family stories Harry Mazadoorian has shared with the Armenian Memory Project. His grandfather Garabed was imprisoned that year in Soorp Nigoghos Church and later massacred. Mazadoorian’s parents, Nigoghos and Yegsa Aharonian, survived the Armenian Genocide and resettled in Connecticut. 

“My father remembers taking clean clothes to my grandfather while the men were imprisoned in the church,” Mazadoorian told the Weekly. “You can’t think of a crueler violation than to imprison the men in the church where they worshiped.” 

The Armenian Memory Project is a visual storytelling initiative at the University of Connecticut that documents the histories of descendants of the Armenian Genocide. The project brings students into dialogue with members of the Armenian community to preserve the memories of the crimes committed against their ancestors and narrate their personal histories of trauma and survival. 

Family historian Armen Marsoobian and filmmaker Catherine Masud launched the project in 2019. The project is part of the Norian Armenian Programs at the Office of Global Affairs at the University of Connecticut.

“Part of the mission of the Norian Armenian Programs is to educate the University of Connecticut community and broader community about Armenian history and culture and provide forums for Armenians and Armenian Americans to share knowledge and traditions,” said Zahra Ali, director of Global Partnerships and Outreach at the Office of Global Affairs. 

Under Masud’s guidance, students enrolled in the course in 2019 produced a documentary film using materials from the Dildilian family archive and an oral history interview with Marsoobian. The students created graphics, animations and sound treatment to narrate the history of the Dildilians and recreate the Armenian community they lost to the Genocide using photographs and documents. 

Marsoobian inherited his family’s vast collection of over 1,000 photographs and glass negatives, as well as official documents, letters, paintings and other artifacts. His family members worked as professional photographers in the Ottoman Empire, establishing a photography business in the Anatolian town of Sepastia. Their oeuvre crosses geographies and time spans, encompassing images of Ottoman Armenian life before the Genocide as well as images from their subsequent work in Greece and the United States. 

“Members of my family lived more than a lifetime of these kinds of world historical events. They did a lot themselves to preserve material. When they write about it, they’re trying to preserve the story for the future,” Marsoobian said.  

In the fall semester of 2021, the Armenian Memory Project entered its second iteration, in which students undertook the curation of a new archive of the history of the Armenian Genocide. During the course, students conducted and filmed oral history interviews with community members about their family stories. Community participants contributed family artifacts, such as photographs, government documents and personal belongings, which students digitized to create a collection of visual and audio testimonies. 

By engaging with community members, students in the course apprehended the history of the catastrophic event through individual stories of suffering and survival. None of the students who have participated in the Armenian Memory Project so far have been Armenian. While students spent the first part of the course studying academic scholarship on the Armenian Genocide, they forged personal connections with this horrific history through the formation of a community archive.

“Many times I was taken aback by details I was being told about atrocities community members’ families faced,” said Jarred Reid, one of the students from last semester’s class. “To hear: my grandmother died on a death march, my great-aunt was taken and forced into marriage; to hear them with the personal connection highlighted or made real what we were learning from the textbooks.” 

The oral histories and artifacts gathered by the students testify to the suppression of the history of the Armenian Genocide in official archives and expose the ongoing injustice of denial, according to Masud. Even when eyewitnesses to the event have passed away, the artifacts inherited by their descendants serve as evidence of their story. 

“These personal histories, accounts and testimonies are a countervailing force in that attempt to erase or destroy a community or a history of a people,” Masud said. 

Some of the community members participated in the Armenian Memory Project in order to preserve the memory of the Armenian Genocide. Mazadoorian said he feels an “obligation to those who endured the genocide, obligation to our current generation of Armenians and non-Armenians” and “obligation to future generations” to contribute his knowledge of his family history to Armenian Genocide scholarship.

“A genocide forgotten is a genocide continued. The last stage, the final and permanent stage of genocide, many people have said this, is when the genocide is forgotten. Then you might say the genocide is complete,” Mazadoorian said.  

Indeed, according to Marsoobian, the story of the Armenian Genocide has not concluded. He hopes that storytelling initiatives like the Armenian Memory Project contribute to combating injustices around the world, such as the current conflict in Artsakh between Armenia and Azerbaijan. 

“In Artsakh, they’re being portrayed as the aggressors, colonists and settlers. They’re not seen as the indigenous people of the region. Their culture is being destroyed. Their history is being rewritten. All of this is a continuation of the nationalist racist ideology that propelled the genocide in 1915, that continues to this day,” he said. 

The Armenian Memory Project also narrates the psychological impacts of the Armenian Genocide on the descendants of its survivors. During oral history interviews, students discovered that the memories of human rights abuses transmitted across generations inform the identities of Armenians today. 

“It’s almost as if it’s imprinted in your DNA. You may have lost some of the specifics. There may be a little embellishment that happens over time, but the essential memory remains in its impacts,” Masud said. “Silence is also evidence of witnessing, because the trauma may cause us to suppress that memory. We don’t want to talk about it, and yet it is felt by family members.” 

The indelible effects of history on present generations motivate initiatives like the Armenian Memory Project that study and document family stories, according to Marsooobian. He has dedicated himself to excavating and curating his family archive for this very reason, since, in his words, “We are, in many ways, our history.” 

“It’s reflective of a growing desire by people to understand their own identities, their own place in the world,” he said. “Who you are, where you came from, what your ancestors have gone through, all makes you a better person to be able to cope with the things that come up in your life.”

Students currently enrolled in the course are developing documentary films using the oral histories and artifacts collected in the fall semester as well as the Dildilian family archive. The films they produce will contribute to ongoing scholarship on the Armenian Genocide through a unique combination of digital technology, video testimony and family artifacts.

“There’s been an avalanche of materials produced about the genocide. You put that together with your family stories. There is a haunting story that emerges from it,” said Mazadoorian. 

Author information

Lillian Avedian

Lillian Avedian is a staff writer for the Armenian Weekly. Her writing has also been published in the Los Angeles Review of Books, Hetq and the Daily Californian. She is pursuing master’s degrees in Journalism and Near Eastern Studies at New York University. A human rights journalist and feminist poet, Lillian's first poetry collection Journey to Tatev was released with Girls on Key Press in spring of 2021.

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Wars end, but they always have a habit of returning. The people of Artsakh seem to be moving on with their lives with the expectation that whatever they rebuild can be destroyed again. While the impact of war is detrimental for all survivors, the tragedy takes a unique toll on the smallest, most vulnerable and purest members of society.

Children perceive the war and the new reality that emerged after the war in a different way. What does war have to do with children? How does it impact their maturity and their consciousness?

Basements

Children wake up in the morning in a warm bed and immediately race out to a cold and dark basement. This is their first encounter with the war. At first, it was a joy not to go to school the next day, but then there grew a longing for the same school, the same demanding teacher and a friend sitting on the bench.

At a young age, you hear the sounds of explosions, which initially resemble fireworks, but you feel that the reaction of adults is very different from the reaction of fireworks dedicated to New Year’s Eve or Independence Day. Everyone says it is a war, but what do you know about the war?

Marat said that war is the protection of the home. For him, the phrase “attack” did not exist, only defense. He said that he was going to grow up soon so that he could join the group of defenders. When asked why he does not want to choose another profession (doctor, policeman, musician, etc.), he said, “But what are the other professions needed for if the war comes again and everyone dies? First of all, the home must be protected so that people with other professions can live there.”

Mary’s dream was to see an end to the war so she could see her father again.  Some of the other children in the basements next to Mary had already lost their fathers. She said that the war would end for her when her father returned to hug her.

Loss of Home

When little Aram left his home in Shushi, he never imagined that would be the last time. His mother told him that they would be leaving for a short time and that they would soon return and live in Shushi again as they used to do before these explosions. “I miss our house very much…my clothes, our clothes… I miss our bicycle, and… Again I miss our clothes – our pants, blouses, we wore ours then…”

Aram’s sister Nora confesses that she cannot adapt to the new house and new conditions. “We do not have our home. I understand people have lost much more than this, but our house was so dear. I love Stepanakert, but Shushi will always be a dream for me. I am so connected with Shushi that it seems that my [body] part has been torn off and given to someone else. I promise that if one day Shushi is returned to us, I will walk from Stepanakert to Shushi, kissing every millimeter,” says Nora.

Because of the war, some displaced residents from the occupied territories of Azerbaijan remained in Armenia. Some moved to Russia, but most continue to live in Artsakh. The majority want to live in Stepanakert, but there are almost no vacant houses left in the capital today. Hotels, rental homes and even residences for the elderly are all occupied. It’s not uncommon to see entire families living in one room.

Life in the Border Villages

Many children today live in border villages that used to be the center of Artsakh. For example, the village of Mkhitarashen has always been a favorite place for tourists, because it was through that village that they reached one of the most beautiful sites in Artsakh—the Umbrella Waterfall. During the summer season, children sold dried fruits, doshab and jams made by mothers and grandmothers to tourists. In this way, they helped members of the household earn money.

There is no school in Mkhitarashen, but the Artsakh government has provided a car for children in the village so they can attend school in the neighboring village of Shosh. Hayk says that the cars of Azerbaijanis were passing by their school. At first they were very scared, but now they seem to be adjusting. “Frankly, they were pointing bad things at us and using foul language, but we tried not to play in that area. Yes, now their snipers see us. We hear gunshots at night, but we try to calm our mothers down, because they are very worried about us. What can we do? This is our reality now. We cannot leave our village.”

Injury

But children grow up one way or another. Life goes on, but how does the war affect them? This situation was a little different during the first Artsakh War. The Azeris were constantly bombing Stepanakert from Shushi. Forty bombs came out of the weapon called GRAD. The residents already knew that when the forties were over, they would have half an hour of free time, as the weapons needed to be recharged. The children would use this time to go down to the yard and play with friends. 

One day, Arman did the same. Someone new had come to their yard, a refugee from Baku. Arman and his two friends started fighting with the newcomer; one of them bit him. When he got up, he ran home, calling his father so that he could come and take revenge on the children in this yard. Arman’s two friends decided to run away in fear, but Arman stayed to take responsibility for his actions. At that moment, an explosion was heard again, but it exploded where the two children had fled. Arman, who was left to answer for what he had done, survived, but was hurt. His memory is vague, but he does recall how his grandparents carried him and ran to the hospital. He remembers how he set foot in the hospital, the ground of which was completely covered with blood, and how he felt that blood and its smell. He lost a part of his lungs. A few days later, the young Baku refugee and his father came to see Arman; the father thanked Arman for sending his child home.

Today Arman is 37 years old, and it has become a life lesson for him that we should always be responsible for what we do.

A Lost Childhood

Regardless of their will, children are always affected by war. Children are usually deprived of the empathy, care and undivided attention of adults who love them. In times of war, the separation from parents or their loss, unavailability and depression, lead to significant and frequent disruption in their attachments.

Children are also deprived of education. This is one of the most damaging effects of war. In 2020 after a long break caused by COVID-19, children finally started attending school again in the middle of September; two weeks later, the war broke out.

Ultimately, the war destroyed the local economy, industries, jobs and infrastructure, which caused financial problems in families. Children were left to find work or look after their siblings, instead of studying and focusing on their schoolwork. 

As displaced persons, children, who are the most vulnerable to post-traumatic stress disorder, wait for years to return to normalcy while living in extremely difficult circumstances.

They worry about food and clothes. They hear parents talking about lack of money and teach themselves to get used to that kind of life, not to want more and not to get disappointed. They learn the words “disappointment” and “pain” very early.

These children of Artsakh have gone their own way. They have grown up too soon and seen too much. Many of them dream of becoming soldiers to defend their country, while others dream of becoming doctors to heal the pains of war.

Author information

Lika Zakaryan

Lika (Anzhelika) Zakaryan is a freelance journalist from Stepanakert. She studied political science at Artsakh State University and holds a master's degree. She then graduated from the Peace Work Institute organized by YMCA Europe with a non-formal education degree in two years, where she studied in-depth conflict management and peacebuilding methods. Lika worked in a rehabilitation center as a social worker, as well as in the Artsakh Ministry of Culture, Youth and Tourism as a project manager and social media manager. She's also worked at a Montessori school in Würzburg, Germany, as a coach on conflicts and peacebuilding. At the same time, she received a year of training at the local Jubi Grenzenlos organization on conflicts and peacebuilding. She returned to Artsakh and took civic journalism courses for 10 months, during which time she started working for CivilNet. Lika is the author of the book 44 Days: Diary From An Invisible War.

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In archives found around Lebanon, Syria, Armenia, Denmark and Switzerland, observers can find photographs depicting the Armenian way of life in Syria between the 1920s and 1940s following the genocide. However, very few people know that one of the authors of these pictures is Leopold Gaszczyk—a Pole who devoted his life and work to help the Armenian cause and communities in the homeland and diaspora. 

Early Years

Leopold Józef Gaszczyk was born in 1896 in a small town called Bielsk (Bielsko-Biała, Poland). Bielsk is located in the historic region of southeast Silesia, which was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the 19th century. Indeed, Bielsk was a charming city, known as “Little Vienna” due to the widespread and beautiful 19th century architecture themes. As a typical city of Silesia, it was a multicultural and multi-ethnic town, home to nationals of different European nations: Germans, Poles, Czechs and Jews. Although Gaszczyk grew up in such a multicultural society, the years of his youth covered a period of rough times for the Polish raison d’être. Indeed, Poland at that time had not existed on the European political map yet, and its territories were part of the surrounding countries (i.e. the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Russian Empire and the German Empire). 

After the outbreak of World War I, Gaszczyk, a national of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and a subject to Kaiser Franz Josef II, was conscripted to military service in the Austro-Hungarian army. In the army, he was trained as a medic, but he also fought on the Eastern Front and in Italy. At the end of the war, he was sent to the Ottoman Empire and served as an “offizier-aspirant” in the Austrian Orient Corps. 

In 1918, he received an order to stay at the outpost of Aleppo-Damascus, where he worked as a translator. During his service there, for the first time in his life, Gaszczyk experienced first-hand the Ottoman extermination policy toward the Armenians, which was established since the outbreak of the war. Along the Berlin Baghdad railway line and between the Der Zor desert and Euphrates River, the Ottomans built a network of concentration camps for Armenians who survived the death marches.  

After the end of the war, Gaszczyk did not go back to Bielsk, but instead, being a citizen of the reborn Poland, he decided to stay in the Ottoman Empire and work for the Near East Relief—an organization that helped Greek, Assyrian and Armenian refugees. Thanks to his driving skills, Gaszczyk assisted with the evacuation of Greeks and Armenians from towns like Sivas, Sasun, Harput and Kayseri. At that time, he worked with Professor Johannes Lepsius and collected and established evidence of crimes committed against Armenians at the time of the war by the Ottoman Empire. 

Aleppo and Karen Jeppe

In 1923, Gaszczyk arrived in Aleppo, where he was employed by the mission initiated by the Danish missionary Karen Jeppe. Jeppe worked for the secular organization “Danish Friends of Armenians.” Between 1903 and 1918, she participated in missionary work within the territories of the Ottoman Empire. During the Great War, Jeppe experienced the horrors of the Armenian Genocide which were initiated in Urfa. In 1921, she was appointed as a secretary of the Commission for the Protection of Women and Children in the Near East under the auspices of the League of Nations. In the same year, Jeppe established a humanitarian mission in Aleppo in collaboration with “Danish Friends of Armenians.” Indeed, the selection of the city was not accidental. In fact, Aleppo was considered one of the biggest Armenian refugee camps in the Syrian territory. It is said that the city and its surrounding regions hosted around 100,000 Armenian survivors of concentration camps. The number of Armenian refugees in the city continued to grow because of the anti-Armenian policies of the Ottoman Empire and later in the Republic of Turkey.

Jeppe’s mission concentrated on providing aid to women and children who were enslaved in Arab, Turkish and Kurdish households. It is believed that approximately 20 to 30 thousand Armenian women and children were victims of kidnapping and human trafficking and were kept in Muslim households. Those people were often sexually abused, forcibly converted and outright deprived of their national identity. Jeppe believed the mission work should be focused on bringing those people back to Armenian society. But this complex and challenging task could be realized not only by helping them escape their oppressors, but through physical and mental healthcare, as well as supporting their social and economic needs. The head office of the mission was established in Aleppo, and the complex of the building consisted of a reception house (where every newly-arrived Armenian was registered), a school, church, hospital, kitchen, a bathing area and several workshops and living areas. Due to the support of a local Bedouin for Jeppe’s work, several Armenian villages were built in and around the city, which later became Armenian colonies.

Work in Mission

On April 21, 1923, Jeppe wrote in her diary: “[…] language skills and capitulation play a big role here, so I find it necessary to have a European here during the time I am away. I have also found one such, Pole – Leopold Gaszczyk [around] 27-30 years old, well versed in the Orient, fluent in language, highly mannered and of solid character.” Indeed, Gaszczyk worked in the mission as a secretary, or as Jeppe enjoyed calling him, “a diplomatic attaché.” He was responsible for leading the office, conducting correspondence, establishing relations with local authorities and representatives of western countries, as well as supervising workshops. Due to his driving skills, he was called “the special driver of Karen Jeppe.” He was also engaged in preparing the Aleppo Protocols—a collection of written testimonies with the portrait photography of survivors who arrived at the mission. Nowadays, the Aleppo Protocols are an established evidence of the genocidal nature of the crimes committed by the Ottomans against the Armenians at the time of World War I. In the following years, he established records of the Sahakian School children. These records consisted of pictures of children, their short biographies and correspondence with donors who provided them with financial support and assistance. In these records, we infer that Gaszczyk was personally involved in securing funds to help the poorest of Armenian children and their families.  

Photography

Besides the portrait photography taken for the Aleppo Protocols and records of the Sahakian school, Gaszczyk was assigned the responsibility of visually documenting the mission’s work in and around the city of Aleppo. Indeed, among these photographs, we find evidence of the Armenian Genocide: girls with tattoos and scarfs after being tortured, as well as women and children who escaped from enslavement in Muslim households. Gaszczyk also depicted mission work: running a hospital, children at school, serving meals and embroidery workshops. Moreover, he photographed daily life in the camp in Aleppo: camp buildings, interior of shanty houses, everyday activities of women and childcare, preparing meals, doing laundry, mending clothing, spinning, as well as the activities of local craftsmen and sellers. Gaszczyk also captured the Armenian way of life in colonies: building new settlements, cooperating with local Arabs, cultivating the soil, raising livestock, farming and educating children. In his free time, Gaszczyk photographed Syrian scenery: landscapes, historical monuments and panoramas of Aleppo. He developed photographs in his office at the mission. Very often, Gaszczyk signed his photographs on the back as “Photo Leopold/Alep (Syrie)”. 

Gaszczyk’s photographs were presented in special albums for the purpose of collecting funds and donations for the mission’s various activities. Many of his photographs were also published in magazines as illustrations to articles concerning the mission’s wide variety of work. 

Family

In her memories, Jeppe wrote about Gaszczyk “[…] he is an excellent help to me, I have no idea what I would have done without him.” Jeppe considered Gaszczyk a family member, the label she used to call all associates who worked in her mission. Gaszczyk’s wife Horome (Hermineh Attarian Gaszczyk) was also part of the staff. Horome was an Armenian widow from Urfa; she lost her husband at the time of the Genocide. Horome, together with Gaszczyk’s sister Johanna Paritsi, led an embroidery workshop at “Hayots Hogdoun” on Tilal Street in Aleppo. Gaszczyk was famous for being manually skilled; he drew patterns on a textile material which he photographed next to handmade embroidery items and oversaw their sale abroad.

Thanks to his wife, Gaszczyk spoke the Armenian language with an Urfa accent. He immersed himself in Armenian culture and celebrated Armenian traditions and feasts. They had one daughter named Hani; she became a French and English teacher at the Karen Jeppe School / Karen Jeppe Djemaran.

Later Years

Gaszczyk became director of the mission after Jeppe’s death in 1935. His new duties included securing funding for the mission’s different activities. He also wrote articles for “Armeniervennen” journal, in which his pictures were published. In 1947, Gaszczyk supervised the transition in possession of the mission’s Aleppo compound to the Armenian Apostolic Church. Meanwhile, he classified the mission’s archives and sent them to Denmark. After that, he worked as an English teacher in the Karen Jeppe School—the same school he helped establish. Unfortunately, the date of Gaszczyk’s death still remains unspecified. 

Photography Today

What distinguishes Gaszczyk’s photographs is how his attitude affected the portraited person. His portraits presented their subjects with respect and dignity. The photographer did not try to shock the viewers by depicting human misery and tragedy, but rather tried to depict the tough condition without downgrading the human worth. It is a unique approach among foreign photographers. Moreover, the method of light projection and the framing of composition by the photographer indicate the artistic value of Gaszczyk’s photography. It’s quite possible that Gaszczyk’s method of photography was influenced by the famous photographer Vartan Derounian who also worked with Jeppe.

Nowadays, it is difficult to clearly indicate which type of photography belongs to Gaszczyk’s collection. On one hand, this collection can be classified as “humanitarian photography,” because it presents the mission’s activities, daily work, necessities, as well as appeals to collect funds. On the other, it can be conceived as “journalistic photography,” since the collection is published in newspapers to illustrate articles. Additionally, Gaszczyk’s photographs can also be considered as “social photography,” since the pictures document the social transformation of Armenian society as well the establishment of the Armenian Diaspora among the refugees in Syria. Finally, some classify the collection as a “documenting photography” as the pictures document the Ottoman extermination policy towards Armenians. 

In the end, Gaszczyk’s work and photography are an essential part of Armenian history, as well as the history of Poles in Syria. His devotion to the issue of integrating the Armenian populations back to society is admirable and deserves to be remembered and spoken about. 

We would like to kindly request from readers, if anyone is in possession of further information concerning Gaszczyk’s history, photography and family, please contact the author of this article.

Author information

Dr. Dominika Maria Macios

Dominika Maria Macios received her PhD in history in 2017 from Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński University in Warsaw. Her dissertation was titled “The Armenian Genocide in the Light of Polish Historical and Iconography Sources, 1895-1939." She holds a master's degree in art history (2010) from Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński University in Warsaw. She studied Armenian Studies at Pázmány Péter Catholic University in Budapest (2018/2019). Her professional interests include the iconography of genocide in art, the art of Armenian Diaspora in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and the Polish-Armenian relationship in XIX-XX centuries. Her current project includes Polish photography in Syria. Her honors include The Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation and the Lanckoroński Foundation fellowships. She is affiliated with the Polish Institute of World Art Studies.

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Once again, links with our ancestors are being broken on land that has always been ours—Artsakh (Nagorno Karabakh). Whether the links can be repaired depends mostly on us, and to a degree upon how the world turns. 

Armenia is one of the world’s oldest civilizations with a “recorded history of more than 3,500 years,” and its people are the aboriginal inhabitants of the Armenian Highlands, located between Anatolia, Persia, and south of the Caucasus…” It is one of six countries on the sixth century Babylonian Clay Tablet, “the oldest world map known to us.” Based on a great many archaeological findings, ancient manuscripts and scientific research, “The Armenian Highlands are the very Cradle of Civilization.” Some of the world’s oldest things have been found in Armenia. Examples, in alphabetical order, are as follows:

1. Agriculture – 7,500 years old: Depictions of ancient petroglyphs.
2. Human Brain – 6,000 years old: “…Oldest of the human brains so far discovered in the world.”
3. Metal Smelting Foundry – 6,000 years old: “The first iron in the ancient world was probably forged here.” It was discovered in Central Armenia near Metsamor.
4. Shoe – 5,500 year old leather shoe: (“1,000 years older than the Great Pyramid of Giza and 400 years older than Stonehenge.”) The shoe, known as Areni-1 shoe, was found in a cave in Vayots Dzor and looks like the traditional Armenian shoe called “charokh,” a type of traditional Armenian moccasin still popular in Armenia.
5. Shirt – 5,900 years old: Made of reed, the clothing item was found in Southern Armenia in the Areni-1 cave.  
6. Sky Observatory – 7,500 years old: Known as “Carahunge” or “Zorats Karer,” it is a “Megalithic stone circle” located near the town of Sisian in the Syunik Province of Southern Armenia. The holes in the structure point at the sun, the moon, the stars, etc.
7. Stone Age Tools – 325,000 years old: Discovered at the archaeological site in Nor Geghi, Armenia, a village in the country’s Kotayk Province, nearly 14 miles north of Yerevan.
8. Wagons – 4,000 years old: four-wheeled and two-wheeled, as well as two-wheeled chariots.  
9. War Horses – 4,500 years old: “…Oldest burial place of a horse… (‘domesticated horse used for military purposes’)” located at Nerkin Naver (meaning Lower Grave in Armenian), nearly 19 miles west of Yerevan, close to Ashtarak.
10. Winery – 6,100 years old: The Areni-1 winery in a cave complex in the province of Vayots Dzor is “important and unique because it indicates large-scale wine production, which would imply that the grape had already been domesticated.”  

In his book The Armenians, John M. Douglas writes of the numerous invasions of Armenia: “The Seljuk Turks were warlike and predatory with no knowledge of farming and agriculture, and no appreciation of statecraft… They appeared around the 10th century… The fields of Armenia became a magnet of the Seljuk nomads…raiding towns and villages and killing thousands of Armenians…” The Kurds joined in the atrocities when the Seljuks invaded Ani, the capital city, in 1021.

“For 1,500 years Armenia was conquered by the Achaemenid Persians, Alexander the Great, the Byzantine Greeks, the Arabs, and then the Turks.” Eventually, the various conquerors left, but when the last of them—the Turks—came, they remained, causing, until today, the greatest harm of all to Armenia and her ancient civilization. 

“The Turk has trodden this land; all is in ruins.”  —Victor Hugo

The region of Artsakh has been a part of historic Armenia, as was Nakhichevan. The Armenian name Artsakh was derived, some sources state, from the word “Tsakh,” which in old Armenian means “woods,” for in Artsakh there are many thick forests. The Armenian word Nakhichevan means “the place of descent, in reference to the descent of Noah’s Ark on the adjacent Mount Ararat.” 

At the beginning of the fifth century after the creation of the Armenian alphabet by St. Mesrob Mashtots, an extraordinary period of cultural development began in Artsakh. The people built “churches, trading centers, cultural institutions, and a capital at Shushi, with clusters of villages scattered all around the valleys.” The first Armenian school was founded by Mesrob Mashtots at the Amaras Monastery, (established in the fourth century by St. Gregory the Illuminator, who converted Armenia to Christianity in 301 AD), in the south of Artsakh. “Artsakh’s architectural treasures as Hovhannes Mkrtich Church and Narthex at Gandzasar (1216-1260), Dadivank’s Cathedral Church (1214), and Gtchavank Monastery (1241-1248) were built in those days, and all of them are considered to be Armenian architectural masterpieces of the Middle Ages. By 1813, the Artsakh Diocese included 1,311 monuments and churches.”

Suffering domination and invasion after invasion, by the 15th century, Artsakh, under the yolk of nomadic tribes, numerous monuments and churches, built in previous centuries, were demolished. It was during this period that the name Nagorno Karabakh, from the Turkish word “black” and Persian word “garden,” began to be used by the invaders instead of the Armenian name Artsakh. In the 16th century, five Armenian Melikdoms (meaning principalities, while “melik designates an Armenian noble title in various Eastern Armenian lands…”) were formed: Dizak, Gulistan, Jraberd, Khachen, and Varanda in Artsakh and known as the “Khamsa Melikdoms.” These dynasties lasted until the 19th century and were able to mediate with aggressors. They also “posed an obstacle to the attempts of the Ottoman Empire to invade the region.” 

Culturally and linguistically, Artsakh is related to nearby Syunik, and in both areas the dialects spoken are the “earliest ever recorded dialects of Armenian.” In May of 1918, when the Armenian Republic was formed, Armenia’s policymakers worked to reunify Artsakh with Armenia. The Turks, however, vehemently stated that the region be surrendered to the Azeris, a Turkic people once known as Tatars. Earlier, in 1915, not long after the Genocide of the Armenian people by the Turkish government, the Azeris not only wanted Artsakh, but also Zangezur (Syunik). One of the meanings of the Armenian name Zangezur given by the locals is “ringing in vain,” after a story about a bell).  

Today, the killings of Armenians, the forceful takeover of their ancestral homeland both in Artsakh and Armenia’s Syunik region, and the malicious destruction and eradication of Armenian ancient cultural and heritage sites, including churches, as well as the confiscation of property and means of livelihood, continues. Artsakh’s population is 145,000; Armenia’s population is 2.9 million; and Azerbaijan’s population is 10 million, with a “GDP of $45 billion.” On August 16, 2021, Azerbaijan’s president Ilham Aliyev stated, “We are ready to teach them another lesson!” The statement was made during a television interview in which Aliyev was referring to the Azeri-initiated unprovoked attack on Artsakh, which began on September 21, 2020 and ended on November 10, 2020. Seventy percent of tiny Artsakh was taken over by the aggressors with the aim of confiscating the remainder of Artsakh and Armenia’s Syunik region, located in the southern part of the country. “Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev has repeatedly described Yerevan (the capital of Armenia) and other parts of Armenia as ‘historical Azerbaijani lands.’”

As the unprovoked attack continued by Azerbaijan with the support of Turkey, sophisticated drones, weapons and foreign mercenaries were used to kill Armenian men, women and children, as well as the destruction of their homes and various places, I was reminded of the book by William Watson titled The Purple East—a series of sonnets on England’s desertion of Armenia (1896, London). The first of the sonnets is titled “The Turk in Armenia.” The author writes: 

“…Thou canst hear the wail of women martyred by the turbaned crew
whose tenderest mercy was the sword that slew,
and lift no hand to wield the purging flail? …” 

And, in his sonnet, titled “The Plague of Apathy,” Watson writes: 

“…Indifference like a dewless night hath come…
The unconcerned, they flourish: loud are some,
And without shame.
The multitude stand dumb…”

In the online article by Hovsep Kanadyan titled “The Real Perpetrator of the 2020 Artsakh War,” dated October 9, 2020, he writes that President Emmanuel Macron of France stated that the “confrontation was launched by Azerbaijan and that the attack was not justified.” Francois Hollande, former president of France, stated: “This is a war initiated by Azerbaijan with Turkey’s support,” while Argentina’s foreign minister stated that “Armenia is not an aggressor.” Earlier, in July of 2020, the Azerbaijani authorities “threatened to strike Armenia’s Metsamor nuclear power plant.” Fortunately, they did not go through with the perilous threat. Artsakh, with its minuscule military budget, could not protect itself from Azerbaijan’s aggression, military tactics and mercenary reinforcements. As for Turkey, Kanadyan writes, “Turkey is interested in both Artsakh and Armenia for two broad reasons: Increasing its influence in the South Caucasus region and contributing to its Pan-Turkic agenda.”

Turning to the pages of history, on July 4, 1921, in Tbilisi, Georgia, “The Caucasian Bureau of the Russian Communist Party organized an executive meeting, during which the fact that Nagorno Karabakh constituted part of the Armenian SSR was confirmed.” Early the next morning, however, Moscow, “following Stalin’s personal intervention, a new decision was made, placing ‘Nagorno Karabakh within the jurisdiction of Azerbaijani SSR as an autonomous oblast.’” “A group of Bolsheviks, led by Stalin, decided to pass the territories of one state to another recently created state, which in 1918 had been named Azerbaijan.” Before the middle-of-the-night clandestine meeting led by Stalin, Nagorno Karabakh had “never been a part of independent Azerbaijan.” When the Armenians of Artsakh expressed their wish for independence, the Azeri government responded with harassment, denial of their rights and liberties, killings and destruction. Throughout Soviet rule, the Artsakh Armenians had “appealed to the USSR authorities to re-establish Nagorno Karabakh as part of the Armenian SSR,” with no results.

Under Azeri domination, the Armenian people endured and continue to endure oppression, “large-scale massacres and ethnic cleansing…”  As a result, in February of 1988, having reached the boiling point, the Armenians concluded that their only recourse against such extreme tyranny was to fight for freedom, and thus the First Nagorno Karabakh War, a territorial and ethnic struggle, commenced. A few years later, in December of 1991, when the Soviet Union “was dissolved, two independent and legally equal states were formed on the territory of the former Azerbaijani SSR—the Republic of Azerbaijan and the Republic of Nagorno Karabakh.” In a legitimate manner, no longer was Nagorno Karabakh under Azeri subordination with its deep-rooted animosity and religious enmity toward the minority Armenian population and their Christian religion. During the First Nagorno Karabakh War, the Azeri government had turned “its policy of ethnic cleansing into full-scale military aggression against the people employing among its regular armed forces, militia and gangs, also more than 2,000 mercenaries from international terrorist hubs…” Despite the odds, the Armenians were victorious in their struggle for self-determination and in May of 1994, a ceasefire agreement was signed. The Artsakh military was able to “reclaim most of the territory that had been taken by the Azerbaijani army…”  As the years passed, though always under constant threat, the people of the Republic of Artsakh, with the aid of Armenia and the Armenian Diaspora, began to rebuild what had been destroyed during the first Artsakh war. 

Then, on the morning of September 27, 2020, Azerbaijan, with the support of Turkey, launched an unprovoked attack on Artsakh. Many lives were lost, and 70 percent of Artsakh was taken.  But this was not the end or enough, the final phase of the attack on Artsakh by the Azerbaijan government was the destruction of anything Armenian—the seizure of their historic, ancient land, the obliteration of all Armenian cultural and heritage sites—the eradication of all forms of Armenian identity in the region. Monuments, archaeological sites, buildings, in particular Armenian churches and headstones called khachkars (cross stones) are taking place, as they have been for years, and the rewriting of history by eradicating the word Armenian and replacing it with “Caucasian Albanian,” who were a short-lived, “ancient kingdom composed of several tribes…” They eventually assimilated, and today the remnants of the assimilated tribes total “about 10,000 people” and are called Udi. The Caucasian Albanian theory, presented by Azerbaijani historians, “beginning in the 1950s and 1960s has framed Azerbaijani’s history as natives to the land, not as ‘invader’ as previous histories, centered around Azerbaijani’s origins as Turkic nomads, had explained it.” With the current on-going threatening situation in Artsakh following the last war, the Caucasian Albanian theory has gained momentum in Azerbaijan, with the culture minister stating, for example, that the ancient Armenian monastery, Dadivank (named after St. Dadi, and the Armenian word vank meaning monastery), was built by the Caucasian Albanians. Recently, Azerbaijan announced the creation of a new center for Caucasian Albanian studies.

Dadivank, completed in the 9th to 13th centuries, and also known as Khutavank (in Armenian meaning monastery on the hill) is “one of the main monastic complexes of Medieval Armenia.” The monastery was “a famous center of literary production during the Medieval Period.” “The British art historian Anthony Eastmond considers the construction of Dadivank to be an example of female church patronage in the Armenian world of the 13th century.” In 2001, the Muslim population in the region “ruined the monastery as much as it could.” For that reason, the abbot of Dadivank arranged to have the monastery’s relics, bells, crosses and khachkars transported to Armenia to prevent the religious objects from being destroyed by the Azeri government. And now, Armenia itself is being eyed by the Azeris, in particular Armenia’s Syunik region, claiming that it too, just as Nakhichevan, belongs to them. 

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” — Edmund Burke

The village of Shvanidzor is located in the southern part of Armenia in the Syunik region or Syunyats Ashkhar (ashkhar meaning world in Armenian), as it is also known. Syunik is the most mountainous terrain (Zangezur mountains) in Armenia and Transcaucasia. Because of the mountains, it was in this area and in Artsakh that small Armenian principalities were established to resist Turkish and Persian invaders and to defend their independence. Davit Bek, who was from the area, was “one of the most prominent military figures of the Armenian liberation movement of the 18th century.” It is also the home of Tatev Monastery and its fortifications, “a 9th century Armenian Apostolic monastery…” The complex “played a significant role in the history of the region as a center of economic, political, spiritual, and cultural activity.” In the “14th and 15th centuries, the monastery hosted one of the most important Armenian medieval universities, the University of Tatev, which contributed to the advancement of science, religion and philosophy, reproduction of books and development of miniature painting…”

One of the typical landscape features of the region are the “stone forests,” which were formed in rocks by the sun, wind and water, thus creating “fantastic sculptures in the rocks.” The “stone forests” once served as dwellings. During Armenia’s pagan times, plane trees that grew in the area surrounded the pagan temples. The temple priests used to “prophesy the future by the noise of their leaves.” There are a number of ancient and medieval monuments, along with fortresses, orchards, and vineyards in this rugged yet beautiful region of Armenia. A variety of fruit are grown, including red and yellow pomegranates. Cattle and sheep breeding are an important means of livelihood for the locals. 

Several years ago, when I was in Shvanidzor, the birthplace of my father, grandfather and forefathers, I asked some elderly people how long they had been living in the village. They replied, first pointing toward the cemetery in the distance, and then saying, “We and our ancestors before us, have always lived on this land. It is on this land where they are buried and where we will one day be buried. We will never abandon our ancestors and sacred soil!” Similar words were spoken by others, including children, in various parts of Armenia and Artsakh. In a video interview of an elderly Armenian man in Nakhichevan, he stated, “Though this land was ours before it was taken from our people, it is now unsafe for Armenians to live here. Despite the dangers, though, a handful of us remain to protect what is ours, what has always been ours!” 

In a small, mountainous region, not well known by the larger world and surrounded mostly by non-Christians, some of whom are extremely hostile and ruthless, Armenia and her people are a fitting example of the term “survival of the fittest.” They have endured countless trials and tribulations over the centuries, lost much again and again, yet they have held fast to their faith, culture, and love of homeland. They continue, as their forefathers before them, to be creators, innovators, builders and thinkers, even during their darkest periods in history. 

In the poem “A Song of Fatherland,” by Father Ghevont Alishan (1820-1901), member of the Mekhitarist Congregation, historian, poet and originator of the first modern Armenian flag in 1885, wrote:                             

“We are the sons of valiant men,
Armenians great and free;
Our grandsires were descended
From a hero ancestry…

…No nation can survive unless
It glows with patriot flame…
Armenia, sit no longer mute
And hidden in the shade…!”                    

SOURCES

Blackwell, Alice Stone. Armenian Poems, Atlantic Printing Co. Boston, MA. 1917.

Brief History of Artsakh (Nagorno Karabakh), MIA Publishers, Yerevan, Armenia, 2013. 

Douglas, John M. The Armenians, J.J. Winthrop Corp., NY, NY. 1992.

Khorenatsi, Moses. History of the Armenians, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA, 1978. 

Lang, David Marshall. Armenia—Cradle of Civilization, George Allen & Unwin LTD, London, 1970. 

Langer, William L. An Encyclopedia of World History, Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston, 1940.

Soviet Armenia, Progress Publishers, Moscow, 1971.

The Armenian People—From Ancient to Modern Times, (Edited by, Richard. G. Hovannisian), Volume 1 and 2, St. Martin’s Press, NY., 1997. 

Watson, William, The Purple East—a series of sonnets on England’s desertion of Armenia, London, 1896, Reprint from the collection of the University of California Libraries.

Author information

Knarik O. Meneshian

Knarik O. Meneshian was born in Austria. Her father was Armenian and her mother was Austrian. She received her degree in literature and secondary education in Chicago, Ill. In 1988, she served on the Selection Committee of the McDougal, Littell “Young Writers” Collection—Grades 1–8, an anthology of exemplary writing by students across the country.” In 1991, Knarik taught English in the earthquake devastated village of Jrashen (Spitak Region), Armenia. In 2002–2003, she and her late husband (Murad A. Meneshian), lived and worked as volunteers in Armenia for a year teaching English and computer courses in Gyumri and Tsaghgadzor.
Meneshian’s works have been published in "Teachers As Writers, American Poetry Anthology" and other American publications, as well as Armenian publications in the U.S. and Armenia. She has authored a book of poems titled Reflections, and translated from Armenian to English Reverend D. Antreassian’s book titled "The Banishment of Zeitoun" and "Suedia’s Revolt" She began writing at the age of twelve and has contributed pieces to The Armenian Weekly since her early teens.

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As Women’s History Month draws to a close, it’s an appropriate time to bring attention to a national campaign which intersects with that of pioneering Armenian-Americans, specifically the American Rosie Movement. For more than a decade, the American Rosie Movement has been shining a spotlight on the unsung heroes who helped win World War II, embodied by the figure of Rosie the Riveter. By 1943, much of the young American male population was away fighting in Europe and Asia, creating a major gap in the workforce. At this time, jobs were seen through a gendered lens; a woman’s place was in the home, not in factories working with heavy machinery. Since the United States produced two-thirds of the Allies’ military equipment, gender norms were temporarily suspended as hundreds of thousands of women were recruited across the country to take up vital jobs in defense plants and shipyards to produce munitions, planes and all manner of war-related material. It cannot be overstated how crucial their hard work was to winning the war, and it should be no surprise Armenian-American women were among them.

The American Rosie Movement has declared 2022 the Year of the Rosie and has been searching for stories of their profound impact on history during the war. This has been a challenge because, unlike enlisted men, there aren’t comprehensive records of women who worked during the war. In fact, at the end of the war with the men returning, most “Rosies” were simply laid off from their jobs. They resumed their lives, and the 1950s which followed have come to be widely remembered as an era of domesticity and “happy homemakers”—a far cry from the spirit of female independence which Rosie the Riveter invokes. While their vital service to the war was mostly overlooked for decades, the legacy of these women has influenced today’s society and inspired advocates for women’s rights. The J. Howard Miller poster hung in Westinghouse defense factories of “Rosie” flexing a muscle would become an iconic image in the decades to come and remains a famous symbol of female empowerment.

One of those Westinghouse “Rosies” was Rose Basmajian Shelengian of Philadelphia—a true “Rosie” in every sense. A recent high school graduate, Shelengian put her college dreams on hold to find a job in order to help her father, a veteran of General Antranig’s army, and support the family. In 1943, she discovered a job posting for Westinghouse’s turbine division at a defense plant in Essington. The treasurer of her local Armenian Youth Federation (AYF) chapter, she would soon find herself in a totally foreign environment, a factory full of heavy machinery staffed mostly by young women. Just like most of them, she had no prior experience, but she quickly learned on the job how to read blueprints and operate the technical tools. The factory was very loud, full of dust and lacking air conditioning; in the summer, they took salt pills to avoid heat stroke. Her biggest challenge came when she was asked to operate a metalworking lathe to see if women could do it, which despite its frightening size and sounds, she did for the next month. Shelengian had to wear slacks and flats in the factory—the first time in her life she ever wore pants. She rather liked them and would continue to wear them at times after the war, even though skirts were still de rigueur for decades to come.

But breaking barriers didn’t come easily. Shelengian admitted she would feel somewhat embarrassed about her job because it was not considered women’s work at a time when social norms held a strong sway over society. She was the daughter of Armenian immigrants in a community that imposed strict values. The general consensus was that it was inappropriate for a young woman to do rough and dirty kinds of jobs like that, so she kept it a secret from all but her immediate family, in line with the slogan of the time, “loose lips sink ships.” And since secrecy was paramount, Shelengian was not even aware of how the parts she was making were used in the war effort, which contributed to the obscurity into which their service passed.

This began to change for Shelengian when in 2017 the Philadelphia Inquirer published an article about the American Rosie Movement and its search for those who had served. That year, Shelegenian was honored by Philadelphia’s mayor at an event at the Liberty Bell. She continued to educate others about her story and appeared on a 2019 podcast episode by KYW Newsradio In Depth. Unfortunately, Shelengian passed away during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020—two days shy of her 96th birthday. While she was always humble about her role and said it was the least she could do with the boys fighting overseas (including her future husband and fellow Philadelphia Armenian Martin Shelengian), the Movement helped her gain a new appreciation about her important role in history. Through the efforts of Rosies like her, the nation has been coming around to discovering these inspiring stories and gaining a new appreciation for them. This was evidenced by a televised profile about Shelengian’s life, which aired on MSNBC’s Deadline: White House with Nicolle Wallace last year.

“Rose’s story is unique among the ones we have collected, as it is of a Rosie born to Armenian immigrant parents who escaped tyranny in their homeland to start a new life in America,” explained Anne Montague, founder of the American Rosie Movement. “It was here that Rose, like the children of thousands of survivors like her, would give back to their adopted nation by fighting tyranny during World War II. Rosies are important to America because they show us today how people can pull together to do the highest quality work for freedom.”

With the youngest surviving “Rosies” now in their mid-90s, there is great urgency to find those who remain and capture their stories. Between the secrecy of their job and their deference to the stories of combat veterans, Montague has found that “the Rosies themselves often don’t even know the importance of what they’ve done.” That’s why it’s so critical for Armenian-Americans to identify these women so their stories will not be forgotten. Even though most Rosies are no longer with us, it’s possible their relatives and the community’s collective memory can help identify them. Montague is also careful to point out that Rosies are not just limited to women who “riveted,” a term which refers to the joining together of metal plates done by Rosies to build planes, ships and tanks. “Rosies” have been expanded outside the confines of defense plants to include any woman who carried out vital work toward the war effort on the homefront, whether as clerks and secretaries within government bureaus or those who stepped up to run the family farm or business in order to maintain production at a time when the country was suffering from many shortages.

Women who were enlisted members of the military during the war are also deserving of more recognition. Though they were not yet permitted to assume positions on the battlefield, women took on critical military jobs and thus made room for more men to go fight. This was an initiative of the Women’s Army Corps (WAC) created in 1942. 

Elizabeth Mardigian Sadjian was another Philadelphia Armenian and AYF member who answered the call and rose to the rank of sergeant. After a month of basic training, Sadjian was assigned as a clerk typist (office manager) within the purchasing and contract office of the supply division at Fort Detrick, Maryland. While the army leadership, in line with public opinion, was initially opposed to women serving in uniform, the shortage of men forced their hand. “WACs” suffered a slander campaign, becoming the targets of false gossip and ugly rumors due to their pioneering roles by a public which was not ready for their arrival. However, they rose above the criticism to become, as General Douglas MacArthur called them, “my best soldiers.”

Another Armenian with ties to Philadelphia was Mary Magarian Attarian, who volunteered to join the WAVES, the US Naval Reserve equivalent to the WAC. She served at the headquarters of the Potomac Naval Command in Washington, DC as a Yeoman Third Class. Upon the death of President Franklin Roosevelt, she had the honor of marching in his funeral procession alongside other WAVES.

One of the most prominent examples of an Armenian-American woman in World War II is Sue Sarafian Jehl of Detroit. Also a proud AYF member, Sarafian Jehl enlisted in the WAC and was appointed a primary secretary of Supreme Allied Commander General Dwight D. Eisenhower. In honor of Veterans Day in 2020, the Armenian Weekly’s John Dekhane published “Paving the Way,” Sarafian Jehl’s story of overcoming the odds and helping prove to a hostile public that women were more than capable of carrying out military roles.

In honor of her birth anniversary, Dekhane also profiled Anna Der-Vartanian, also of Detroit, who felt it was her duty to join the war effort. Enlisting alongside her brother and sister, she started out with the WAC and later transferred to the WAVES. Like these other women who chose to serve, she faced mockery and insults but wasn’t deterred, not just during the war but for decades to come. During her career, she would be posted in California and New Jersey, at Pearl Harbor, and abroad in Paris. In 1959, she became the first woman ever promoted to Master Chief Petty Officer (E-9), the Navy’s highest enlisted rate. After retiring from the Navy, she joined the CIA where she became a counterintelligence specialist. She retired from that role in 1991, but remained as a contractor until 2007 when she was in her mid-80s. Der-Vartanian was also buried at Arlington National Cemetery with full military honors.

Fortunately, there are other stories of enlisted Armenian women in World War II, including in Richard N. Demirjian’s books The Faces of Courage and Triumph and Glory: Armenian World War II Heroes. They include servicewomen who survived the sinking of ships and kamikaze attacks and served in numerous ways as military nurses in remote parts of the world like Papua New Guinea and as cryptographers deciphering enemy codes. 

It cannot be overstated how these Armenian-American women, along with all the Rosies and enlisted women of World War II, have helped to shape the more equal (but still a work in progress) society we have today. Their accomplishments are a reminder of the adversities we have overcome as Armenian-Americans and what we are capable of. It also sends a message to the United States at large, which in various respects is still getting to know who Armenians are as a component of the “melting pot,” that we have been contributing to this country’s success for generations. We owe it to history to continue preserving the proud record of World War II Armenians, and that, like their parents’ stories of survival, it be another source of inspiration for our community and all Americans.

Author information

Paul Vartan Sookiasian

Paul Vartan Sookiasian is a writer and editor based in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He has worked in Armenia as the English language editor at CivilNet and as a project associate for USAID programs. More recently he served as one of the organizers of the World Congress on Information Technology 2019 Yerevan. He is also a historian who researches and brings to light the long and rich history of Philadelphia's Armenian community.

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The path to recreating the lost memories of our families and homeland is often winding and arduous. The many fragments rarely can be joined to form a coherent and comprehensive image of the lives once lived in a time and place long since destroyed. However, every so often, history comes forth in interesting and unexpected ways.

In 2019, Matthew Karanian wrote about the search for the ancestral home of Laura Gaboudian in the village of Havav in the region of Palu. I had a very small role in that search which made use of a sketch map of Havav drawn by Haroutiun Tsakhsourian and included in his published book Palahovit: History of the Valley of Palu from the Earliest Times until our Days (Beirut, 1974).

Recently, Karanian reposted the article on the Armenian Genealogy Facebook group and, based on a request made there, I transcribed the names on the map into English. The surnames appearing on the Havav map are all too familiar to me from having grown up in Rhode Island where many from Havav would come to live. As is often the case with me, after such an effort I cannot help but search for confirmation of those surnames. The first place I will typically begin is with the list of those coming from a particular place of origin as compiled in the Armenian Immigration Project by Mark Arslan. The list of those from Havav coming to the United States gathered from ship manifests, naturalizations, etc. conforms well with the households identified by Tsakhsourian.

The following Havav surnames can be found in the Armenian Immigration Project website and on the Tsakhsourian map – Ampagoumian, Aproian, Aramian, Arzoumanian, Avakian, Aylaian, Azarian, Bkhian, Boranian, Boyajian, Der Mkhsian, Desdegiulian, Dolbashian, Ellian, Gadarian, Garmrian, Isrigian, Kasbarian, Khalarjian, Khimatian, Leylegian, Mangigian, Manougian, Odian, Papazian, Pashalian, Peretsian, Tkhtkhian, Tsakhsourian, Vosganian and Yeghiazarian.

Delving further into the available records, I found a confirmation of the details on the map. As I have noted previously, Ottoman population registers exist for certain locations from the early 1800’s. I have two population registers for the Armenians of Havav. One is dated 1840 and the other 1847. The fascinating aspect that caught my attention was the first seven households listed in the 1840 register – six of them clearly were the same families listed in the same complex on the Tsakhsourian map!

In the upper left corner of the map, the first building complex contained the following families: Dolbashian, Hajian, Pashalian and Desdegiulian. It seems unlikely that the six households thus listed at the beginning of the register is mere coincidence. 

The Dolbashian household is the first listed in the 1840 register. At the time, 12 Armenian males were recorded in the household headed by Ohan Dolbashian, age 44. Ohan had five sons ranging in age from 1 to 14. Also in the household were Ohan’s brothers, Boghos and Arakel, and their sons as well. The 1847 register indicates Krikor was the father of the three brothers, Ohan, Boghos and Arakel.

The difficulty lies in bridging the gap between 1840/1847 and 1915 and later. In the 1980s, Peter Bedros Aproian recorded the memoirs of his father Ghazaros. Some of the information contained in the memoir can be verified with the population registers.

Peter’s father Ghazaros was named for an earlier ancestor. He indicated that the Turks called the Aproians by the name Chatalbash, and the population register confirms this. Here are the occupants of the 68th household recorded in the register:

Boghos Chatalbash, age 100
Apram, son of Boghos, age 32
Ghazar, son of Boghos, age 27
Manoug, son of Boghos, age 24
Hovhannes, son of Boghos, age 20
Sarkis, son of Apram, age 12
Asadour, son of Mardig, age 5
Movses, son of Ghazar, age 4
Hovhannes, son of Ghazar, age 1
Mardig, son of Hovhannes, age 3

Mardig was another son of Boghos who must have passed away prior to 1840. It is very likely that Boghos’ father was also named Apram and was the source of the surname Aproian. The memoir also confirms that Ghazar had a son named Movses. 

Another note of confirmation is found in the 2002 memoir Odyssey of a Survivor by Souren Papazian in which he included a detailed family tree. The population register was again used to confirm the names of those listed in the tree and that the Papazians were referred to at the time as top or tob keshish, which seems to indicate son of the head priest.  

Coming full circle, the Aproian memoir also discusses a Turk named Sherif Pasha who had terrorized the Armenians in Havav for a time before being expelled. The family living in Gaboudian’s ancestral home was named Sherifoghlou (of the family of Sherif). Had the Sherif fulfilled their threat to return to Havav? Also of note, Tsakhsourian discusses the expulsion of Armenians from Palu in the late 1920’s and who came to live in the Armenian houses of Havav. The Boranian household is stated to be occupied by Kurds from the nearby village of Kouroum.

One of the advantages of the map of Havav is that we have three reference points to line up with current satellite images of the village – the two fountains and the ruins of St. Gatoghige. The map comes to life as we walk the same pathways of our ancestors.

Author information

George Aghjayan

George Aghjayan is the Director of the Armenian Historical Archives and the chair of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) Central Committee of the Eastern United States. Aghjayan graduated with honors from Worcester Polytechnic Institute in 1988 with a Bachelor of Science degree in Actuarial Mathematics. He achieved Fellowship in the Society of Actuaries in 1996. After a career in both insurance and structured finance, Aghjayan retired in 2014 to concentrate on Armenian related research and projects. His primary area of focus is the demographics and geography of western Armenia as well as a keen interest in the hidden Armenians living there today. Other topics he has written and lectured on include Armenian genealogy and genocide denial. He is a board member of the National Association of Armenian Studies and Research (NAASR), a frequent contributor to the Armenian Weekly and Houshamadyan.org, and the creator and curator westernarmenia.weebly.com, a website dedicated to the preservation of Armenian culture in Western Armenia.

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In 1982, a year after William Saroyan’s death on May 18, a Moscow airport was filled with solemn chaos as members of the Writers Union of Armenia prepared to receive the precious ashes of the great Armenian American writer.

Led by playwrights Aramashot Papayan and Perch Zeytuntsyan, a select group of writers made the journey from Armenia to Russia to receive the urn of Saroyan and bring it back to the city of Yerevan for its interment. A year before, the other half of Saroyan’s ashes had already been buried in Fresno, California. 

“I felt this was a really heavy responsibility, to take this man’s ashes to Armenia,” said the editor-in-chief of the Armenian Observer, Osheen Keshishian, during a 1991 interview for Armenian International Magazine. “We were worried that the urn was going to be lost or stolen. We stayed overnight in Moscow, and I slept with the urn under my bed.”

During the period of the Soviet Union, foreign visitors had to fly into Moscow, which was the capital of the Soviet government, to be searched and granted access, as free travel in and out of the USSR was banned without express permission. For this reason, bringing Saroyan’s urn to its final resting place in Armenia was a difficult journey.

Keshishian was one of three men assisting in transporting Saroyan’s ashes from California to Armenia. They traveled from the United States to Canada, making their way then to Moscow before finally landing with the sealed metal urn in Yerevan.

According to a report by Tony Halpin for the 1991 My Name is Bill issue of Armenian International Magazine, more than 10,000 people had gathered at the airport in Yerevan in anticipation of their arrival. Due to heavy rain and hail, their flight was delayed six hours, dwindling the crowd down to 2,000 people.

Upon his arrival in Yerevan, Keshishian presented the urn to Vardges Petrosyan, the Writers Union president. Writers began to gather around, paying their respects and momentarily holding the urn before passing it on to the next person.

“They just wanted to handle it for a second,” said Keshishian. “Some people started to cry. Some people were in shock. It was an unbelievable scene.”

The urn was then transported by motorcade to the Writer’s Union building as hundreds of people outside of the airport watched.

On May 29, 1982, the burial of Saroyan’s ashes was held at Komitas Pantheon, which is the burial site for Armenia’s greatest intellectuals and artists. Approximately 50,000 people were in attendance. Even the former Soviet Armenian president, Karen Demerdjian, had flown in from Moscow just for the funeral and flew back to Russia immediately after. 

Hundreds of Armenians laid flowers and wreaths at Saroyan’s gravesite, flooding a portion of the pantheon.

“They loved him because he was down-to-earth,” said Keshishian.

My great-grandfather Aramashot Papayan was deeply affected by the loss of Saroyan; he considered Saroyan a dear friend and his brother from Bitlis. It was a deep honor for him to be the leading writer, along with Perch Zeytuntsyan, who flew to Moscow to retrieve Saroyan’s ashes. But he never bragged about being part of the select few; it was a very personal and quiet experience for him.

“He [Papayan] was sad and talked about him a lot,” said my uncle Vahagn Papayan when I asked him about his grandfather’s reaction to Saroyan’s death. “I didn’t know about his flight to Moscow. I was less than 10. I think that was the first time I learned about Saroyan, and everyone was telling all these stories.”

Within several reports about Saroyan’s will, Saroyan had expressly stated that his heart should be buried in Armenia, while the rest of his ashes were to be buried in Fresno, California. He also had stated that if Bitlis was ever liberated from occupation, his ashes from Fresno should be transferred to his parents’ house, which according to stories passed down in my family, he had been able to locate due to the in-depth stories of Bitlis that Papayan’s mother Grap would share with him.

Forty-one years later, Armenians all over the world still mourn the loss of the great William Saroyan. He was an imaginative and larger-than-life novelist, playwright, short story writer and artist. 

He truly carried Armenia in his heart wherever he went, seeking to bring the motherland recognition and respect on the global platform. As recompense for faithfully keeping his homeland in his heart, Armenia now carries the ashes of his heart within her arms, because whether metaphorically, or quite literally, his heart was, and still is, truly in the highlands.

Author information

Jane Partizpanyan

Jane Partizpanyan is a journalism and public relations major at California State University, Northridge. She works as a contributing writer for the Daily Sundial. She's also a public relations coordinator at the Agency 398 PR firm and a published poet.

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“To the respectable Emma. With good memories. From Aram Khachaturian, with thankfulness towards her. June 12, 1956 Moscow.”

My eyes widened as my mother translated these words for me from the original loopy Russian handwriting penned by Aram Khachaturian. Captivated by the maestro’s note of gratitude to my tatik, I began researching their musical relationship.

My great-grandmother Emma Tsaturyan was a renowned Soviet-era conductor, musician, professor and artistic director. She was the co-founder and president of the Armenian Music Company, which currently bears her memorial plaque. She also was the artistic director of the Armenian Folk Song and Dance Ensemble of Tatul Altunyan and the Aram Ter-Hovhannisyan Choir, as well as the conductor of the State Choir of Armenia. In 1982, she was awarded the title of People’s Artist of the Armenian SSR, the highest national title of Soviet Armenia.

Tsaturyan’s contributions to Armenian society and folk music are plentiful, and because she was a Dilijan native, the town proudly named a street in her honor several years ago. Naturally, she worked closely with composers such as Arno Babajanyan, Alexander Dolukhanyan and Edgar Hovhannisyan. Her relationship with Khatchaturian was one of her many close ties.

“I was very very close with Aram Khachaturian,” said Tsaturyan during a television interview for After Hayk Nahapet.

Indeed, Khachaturian and Tsaturyan worked on several projects together throughout the course of their careers. In 1974, they both served as jury members of the Republic Choir Competition along with opera singer Tatevik Sazandaryan. 

In 1956, Tsaturyan assisted Khachaturian with adapting the words of poet Gegham Saryan to a musical composition for an upcoming concert he had organized. Because Khachaturian didn’t know Armenian well and Saryan was not a lyricist, Tsaturyan helped him cohesively combine the text and music. I discovered that this was the source of Khachaturian’s letter to my tatik.

Tsaturyan and Saryan worked for two days on the lyrics, and “Aram Khachaturian accepted the work with satisfaction,” as documented by Knarik Grigoryan in Tsaturyan’s 1987 biography. The concert turned out to be a great success.

“It was very moving,” said Tsaturyan while discussing the concert. “Aram Khachaturian was waiting outside to greet us, [as] we were exiting the concert. They were standing in front of the theater. He approached me with a signed photo. Through that [the signed photo], you will be able to conclude his attitude towards me.” Khachaturian penned the note of gratitude behind a photo.

Tsaturyan was always a mythical figure to me growing up. She was this famous, powerful woman of whose musical talent I only garnered a fraction. She was strict and stoic with the voice of an angel that would softly lull my mother to sleep when she was a child.

As for Khachaturian, he was a symbol of Armenian greatness and a man who left an indelible mark on the world of music. His influence even managed to weave its way into American pop culture with “Sabre Dance.” I feel grateful to have uncovered Khachaturian’s musical connection and friendship with my great-grandmother.

Today marks the 119th birth anniversary of Maestro Khachaturian.

Forty-nine years ago, in 1973, Tsaturyan honored her friend and conducted her choir during his 70th birthday celebration. Khachaturian would later send Tsaturyan another letter, one of his last before his death in 1978.

“Heartfelt and warm greetings to the Armenian Choir Company and the lovely Emma Tsaturyan for taking part in my organized concert and for the wonderful performance. Your choir is a talented group and is of high quality professionalism. I wish you new and greater successes. Your friend, Aram Khachaturian.”

For some, these written letters would be considered historical artifacts that were once authored by one of the greatest composers in Soviet history, but for Tsaturyan, they’re merely letters from Aram.

Editor’s Note, June 8, 2022: This article has been edited to amend the date on the photo of Tatevik Sazandaryan, Emma Tsaturyan and Aram Khachaturian. Upon the initial publication of this article on Khachaturian’s birth anniversary, the photographer of that photo—Vartik Baloyan—reached out to the Weekly and provided the historically accurate information.

Author information

Jane Partizpanyan

Jane Partizpanyan is a journalism and public relations major at California State University, Northridge. She works as a contributing writer for the Daily Sundial. She's also a public relations coordinator at the Agency 398 PR firm and a published poet.

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Earlier this year, I introduced you to five young and bright people from Artsakh. The positive feedback motivated me to continue highlighting the youth and share the stories of more inspiring young people from Artsakh. They are smart. They know what they want. They are hard workers, and they are making Artsakh better and brighter today. 

Here they are: Narek, a young photographer who knows how to make you smile and capture the best photos; Anush, a young lady planting microgreens and encouraging the people of Artsakh to eat healthy to feel better; Angelina, the sweetest student who has her own brand despite her young age; Christina, an optimistic and energetic young woman who will make your event unforgettable with her amazing balloons and party decorations; Diana, a talented dancer and owner of ‘’Nakshun’’ handmade bracelets; Grigori, a young and experienced hairstylist; Lusine, a certificated international etiquette consultant who will teach you how to eat and drink properly; and Inna and Narine, the young women who help Artsakh small businesses export their goods around the world. 

Narek Sargsyan – 22 years old, photographer and public relations manager from Stepanakert

“After the 2020 Artsakh War, I realized that there is nothing impossible in this life. You just need to work hard and achieve all your goals. If you have peace and your people around, everything is possible.

I started my career as a photographer three years ago. Ten months ago, I launched ‘Artsakh Promotion,’ which aims to document the people of Artsakh and promote their businesses. The name says it all. We do photo shoots, video and drone videography. We also create cartoons, animations, web pages, graphic designs and take on PR and marketing. 

The people I work with are the main motivation and inspiration of my job. I’m fortunate that I am able to stay in touch with clients even after the work is done. We are trying to support each other whenever it’s needed. This is so important and precious to me. 

I like catching the happiest moments on photoshoots. I like to follow people’s facial expressions and see what makes them happy. I think this helps me to know them well and widen my horizons. I also like working with bright and bold people. When my subjects can pose and do everything to get good photos, when they have no complex, I really enjoy working with them, as well as couples. I don’t look at the time, and I don’t count minutes. I truly enjoy the whole process and the love in the air. 

I don’t know whether I will do this for the rest of my life. Several years ago, if you told me that I would become a photographer, I would laugh at you. Everything changes too fast, and I should just live in the moment. 

This job has one more perk. I started discovering Artsakh and its hidden gems. There is never enough time. Twenty-four hours isn’t enough for me. 

I want to remember the funniest moments from my photo shoots and realize that they are plenty. I work with different people, and something awkward happens often. I was once taking photos of a couple at the Stepanakert cathedral, and there was a child praying and asking God for high grades on his exams.

One of the difficulties in my job is that most Artsakh people/couples are not used to showing their emotions, especially next to other people. When you ask them to show some emotions, they say that they never do that. The younger generation is more open-minded, and I never have such problems with them. I can say that there is a hope for a more open and more free society in the future. 

It may sound paradoxical, but there is no difficult job if you do it with love. At the same time, all jobs are difficult if you want to do them perfectly and always seek perfection in every detail. I do my job with love. I’m thankful to my team: Diana, our photographer; Karen, our IT specialist and director; Mark, our computer animation specialist; and Erna who is helping us create logos.     

I would suggest that young people not waste the time given to them today and use it with maximum profit to themselves and their homeland.”

Anush Yesayan – 24 years old, Greench Microgreens co-founder from Stepanakert

“After the war…I realized that there is no time to wait, and you just need to live right here, right now.

It’s been about five months since I started my small business Greench Microgreens in Artsakh. My friend Tigran Andryan and I came up with the idea together. The main goal was to be useful in everyday life. I like planting greens. Initial feedback from our customers was positive. Then, we started getting more and more orders which meant we were starting to get popular and that people liked our greens. I was inspired by the idea of having my own business and bringing something new to Artsakh life. While thinking of the name, we wanted to make it simple and memorable. That’s how we came up with Greench Microgreens. 

Our microgreens are healthy. Our customers say they saw improvements in their digestion, sleep and mood. They have so many vitamins that can compete with medicines. Moreover they are aesthetic and look great while decorating dishes. At this moment there are several restaurants who are taking orders from us, people who want to eat healthy and stay fit, also those who appreciate aesthetics even in food. 

We have many followers from Armenia as well who are waiting for us. Unfortunately, there are no delivery options at the moment from Artsakh to Armenia, and we can’t make it. But hopefully in the near future, we will solve this problem and will appear in the Armenian market as well. 

It’s interesting how the older generation views this. As you know Artsakh is the motherland of greens and seeing this ‘fancy’ green in their kitchen seems to be unacceptable, but no. There are those who understand the importance and use of our product, and they also started ordering it. 

I would say that it’s easy to start a new business in Artsakh. There are many fields which should be filled. The internet is full of new amazing ideas, and when you have funds to start the business, it will take just your time and efforts to succeed. 

We are planning to broaden our farm and in the future have our shop and our branches not only in Artsakh, but in Armenia and abroad. With God’s help, we will have not only microgreens, but other products to keep healthy and fit.”

Angelina Grigoryan – 15 years old, founder of Morpho from Stepanakert 

“After the war, I became more determined, and now I know that every day is a chance to become better and stronger. Life is a game, and the winner is the one who knows its weakness. You just need to know the rules of the game and enjoy it.

The idea of creating my own brand came during the war. I was working hard over a year to open my own brand which I named Morpho, a freedom-loving butterfly that flies on the highest peaks of the trees. Morpho produces tote bags and T-shirts mostly with Artsakh ornaments. While creating Morpho, I was inspired by the women who create their own businesses and never stop learning and being useful to the world.  

I like mixing Artsakh ornaments with modern details and getting something unique. 

In the beginning, I was getting orders mostly from Artsakh, but then when I became more experienced, I started delivering them abroad as well. Customers in Artsakh would buy Morpho and send them to their friends and relatives living abroad. 

My customers mostly order bags and tee-shirts with Artsakh themes. The most favorites are Tatik-Papik and Ghazanchechots Cathedral patterns or something written in Artsakh dialect. We also have our customized tee-shirt called ‘Hayuhi’ for our incredible and beautiful Armenian women. 

In the future, I plan to expand our geography and open a Morpho shop in Artsakh. For me, it’s easier to live and work in Artsakh as our soil gives me strength and motivation to create something beautiful. 

I like to use J.K. Rowling as an example, who received 14 rejections when she was trying to publish Harry Potter. I’m sure that with hard work and with the help of God everything is possible.”

Christina Verdyan – 26 years old, owner of Verdyan’s Art Shop, Stepanakert

“After the war, I started to love Artsakh even more. I was thinking about going abroad to start a new life, but now I can’t imagine even a day without Artsakh. Even when I’m in Yerevan, I’m counting the days to come back to Stepanakert. I’m much more needed here than in other places on earth.

Verdyan’s Art Shop specializes in balloons and other decorations for birthdays, weddings and other celebrations. I’ve been doing this job for five years. I previously worked at a café where parents always asked me to help them decorate birthday parties. This is how I discovered this talent and started my small business.

I feel confident and strong here in Artsakh, and I think that we have only a lack of strong leaders to overcome this shameful situation and live our decent lives. 

In the future, I plan to open my own bridal salon because I don’t like that our brides have to travel to Yerevan to get their wedding dresses. I want to make them beautiful and shine on their special day.  

I advise everyone, especially young people living in the Diaspora, to come to Artsakh at least once to get to know us, as reading news or posts on social media is totally different from our real life here in Artsakh. We are fighting for our life. We are struggling to have things which our peers get for free in other countries where they don’t even know the price of freedom and peace. Here you will understand that and will appreciate everything you have in your life.”

Diana Hambardzumyan – 27 years old, professional dancer and founder of Nakhshun Art, Stepanakert

“After the war, I became a more easygoing person. I just want to live and enjoy my life here in Artsakh.

I’ve been dancing for six years. I’ve been working at Artsakh State Dance Ensemble for over 10 years. When I was dancing ‘Nakhshun Baji,’ my colleagues started calling me Nakhshun. This is what inspired the name of the handmade bracelet brand ‘Nakhshun’ that launched one year ago. In the beginning, it was something like art therapy for me. Afterwards, my friends convinced me to create my own brand, and it became popular. I have always liked handmade jewelry; I appreciate everything handmade. Even in my childhood, I liked making bracelets from the beads. Macramé was also interesting to me. I mostly knit with schemes, but sometimes I want to make something crazy and just improvise.  

How do I combine dancing with knitting? The answer is simple. I knit after work. It’s healing and a way to relax. 

In general, you can do anything if you have a wish. You can achieve anything by hard work.”  

Grigori Danielyan – 18 years old, hair stylist, Stepanakert 

“After the war, I started to appreciate life even more. I want to enjoy each second given to me and make people around me happier.

I had other plans for my future, but after the war I decided to learn a new craft, and this was the first thing that came to my mind. I took classes with a well-known hair stylist and colorist in Armenia and Russia. Then one of my coaches invited me to Yerevan to work at his beauty salon. This is how everything started.

Of course, people are surprised when they see me for the first time, but as soon as my work is finished, we become good friends and they visit me again and again. There are stereotypes among our people that if you are young and you are male, you can’t be a good specialist. But I’m doing my best to break all those stereotypes, and the range of women coming to cut or color their hair proves that I’m doing everything right. 

There is also another problem when older generations or hair stylists with 15 to 20 years of experience look at me with doubt in their eyes; they seem like they don’t believe that someone young is capable of doing this work. But I strongly believe that it doesn’t matter how long you are occupying a particular job, if you don’t work on yourself daily you will not be able to become a good professional.

In the future, I plan to become famous not only in Artsakh and Armenia, but around the world. I’m planning to have my own studio and host masterclasses. 

One piece of advice which I will give to young people is to never give up and use every failure as a new chance for great achievements.”

Lusine Hambardzumyan – 26 years old, certificated international etiquette consultant, Stepanakert 

“After the war, my love toward Artsakh became even bigger. I’m proud of being from Artsakh, and I feel the commitment while walking on this sacred soil.

I always dreamed of doing work outside the public and private sectors. This is how I found myself studying etiquette. I studied French, Russian and British etiquette. I realized that I want to share all the knowledge gained during these years. So I created an Instagram account and decided to host etiquette classes. I just launched my dining etiquette classes. I teach the proper etiquette of eating and behavior at the table based on British and French etiquettes. The course will be online and will last two weeks. These are my first steps in this field, so I’m starting with only one course. But I’m planning to also have an offline (tête-à-tête) course where I will also teach business etiquette. 

I like observing people at restaurants. Unfortunately, most people are guilty of making common mistakes such as putting phones or purses on the table, applying make-up or discussing unacceptable issues (politics, religion, gossip). 

In Artsakh, it’s interesting to learn more about our manners. While there is no such thing as Artsakh etiquette, we do need to take into account our culture. For instance, while eating our famous Jingalov hats you should always remember that Artsakh people don’t eat it with knife and fork, so you just take it and eat it with your hands. This is the same as Georgian khinkali, which you can’t eat with a knife and fork. You should always follow the traditions of a particular country.

Living and working in Artsakh has both its advantages and disadvantages. There are many new business opportunities. Having zero competition is good, but at the same time, it can be less motivating to become better. There are many who live in uncertainty. This is very demotivating, and it’s painful to see my people in despair. On the other hand, the youth are motivated to learn something new. They bring everything into balance, and I’m happy seeing our young people creating all the time. 

It’s difficult to have long-term plans for the future in this disadvantageous political and geopolitical situation for Artsakh, but I’m sure my life’s work will be dedicated to Artsakh.

I will suggest to young people around the world to learn and fail, to fail until they will make it. Don’t pay attention to the marks which you get at the schools or universities. What’s most important is who you are inside and what you are doing to become better every day.”

Inna Baghiryan and Narine Hovhannisyan, founders of Buy4Artsakh and Verelk entrepreneurs. Baghiryan, 22 years old, is from Stepanakert. Hovhannisyan, 22 years old, is from Kolkhozashen village in Martuni region. 

“After the war, we both started to appreciate Artsakh even more and put all our efforts to make Artsakh loud and visible to the world. We are here; we want to live and create on our land.

It’s been four months since we started our microbusiness in Artsakh. The 2020 Artsakh War damaged our economy, so we decided to create a platform where small businesses will be able to realize their products out of Artsakh and Armenia. To make it easier and faster, we decided to put all those products in one box. We had been working on this idea for seven months. We have created special boxes which symbolize Artsakh. Then we started to promote our business through Facebook and Instagram pages. Buy4Artsakh was welcomed warmly by our Diaspora. We sent our boxes to five different countries only in the first month. Our customers can choose what they want to see in the box, but mostly they let us decide. We work with more than 17 local businesses in Artsakh and help them export their products abroad. Diasporan Armenians are discovering Artsakh through our boxes. Many of them even decided to come visit Artsakh after receiving their boxes. Everyone is welcome to buy our boxes and experience different offerings from Artsakh. The main target is the Diaspora, and we are doing our best to make them feel closer to Artsakh.

In the last four months, we shipped over 100 Buy4Artsakh boxes abroad. We select seasonal items, and we pay attention to those products which are well-packed as people living abroad are paying attention to the branding. 

We are planning to become an internationally recognized brand, and we wish to get orders not only from Armenians, but from foreigners as well. 

We advise young people to be free in their dreams, learn more, work hard and put all the efforts toward the recognition of Artsakh. The future is in our hands.”

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Irina Safaryan

Irina Safaryan is a political scientist, translator and freelance journalist based in Stepanakert. She earned her master's degree at Yerevan State University's Department of International Relations; she's also studied at the Diplomatic School of Armenia. She was an intern at the European Parliament and is well-informed on EU-Armenia relations. Irina is the co-founder of the first Wikipedia Club in Artsakh, an author of more than 100 articles in Armenian Wikipedia. Irina is interested in politics, education, new technologies and everything connected to peace and sustainable development of Artsakh.

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Nestled on the cliffside of Dzoragyugh, a former district of historical Yerevan, stands the Sergei Parajanov Museum, a former workshop of a carpenter. But how did this marvelous museum, in dedication to a worldwide film icon, come to be? Designer and chief architect of the museum, Arshak Ghazaryan, lifts the veil to reveal the difficult journey to immortalize Parajanov’s artwork. 

While initially striving to become a painter like his father, who instructed many of the great Armenian painters of the 20th century, Ghazaryan ended up falling in love with architecture and graduated from Yerevan State Polytechnic University in 1976 with a degree in the field. 

Ghazaryan worked on many projects during his career as an architect. He worked in the ARMSTATE Project Institute, which took on a multitude of projects. In 1983 he became the chief architect for the Dzoragyugh Ethnographic District Project, which operated under the Department of Preservation and Restoration of Historical Monuments, the first of its kind in the Soviet Union. In the future, the Sergei Parajanov Museum would become part of the Dzoragyugh Ethnographic District Project.

In 1988, photographer and director of the Folk Art Museum, Zaven Sargsyan, who later became the director of the Sergei Parajanov Museum, brought Parajanov’s collection of collages from Tbilisi, Georgia to Yerevan. These collages were created by Parajanov during his imprisonment and were said to have saved his life while in captivity. An exhibition was created, and many Armenians and foreign visitors came to view it, including Ghazaryan.

Ghazaryan and many other artists like Sargsyan and Grigor Khanjyan believed in the necessity of a house-museum for Parajanov. After witnessing the exhibition at the Folk Art Museum, Ghazaryan came up with the idea of a site in the Dzoragyugh Ethnographic District.  

Ghazaryan relayed this idea to Khanjyan, the informal advisor of fine art to Karen Demerdjian and the curator for the Dzoragyugh Ethnographic District Project. Khanjyan went to Demerdjian and requested that the cliffside building in Dzoragyugh, only half-built at the time, should be gifted to Parajanov as a house-museum. 

“Demerdjian agreed, and the decision was made,” said Ghazaryan in a recent interview with the Weekly. “After that, Parajanov’s other artwork was brought from Tbilisi [to Yerevan] overnight. It was a major project. We were rushing for that building to be given to him because Parajanov was already sick.”

Parajanov was seriously ill with diabetes at the time, and his health was failing, often struggling to walk. 

Ghazaryan met Parajanov for the first time outside the future house-museum. Even though this was their first meeting in person, Ghazaryan felt as if he had met Parajanov long ago when he first watched Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors on television.  

“My impression of him had already been formed 20 years ago when I was a teenager,” recalled Ghazaryan. “For me, he was a spring of pride, an Armenian and a great artist. The most important element was that even though he had done so much work and had so much knowledge, he had no arrogance whatsoever.”

Together, they toured the building as Ghazaryan explained the vision for the project: a space for an art studio, museum and living area.

“I was anxiously waiting to hear what he had to say. I asked, ‘What would you advise us to do better?’ He said, ‘Continue like this. Whatever you have done is good.’”

As construction got underway in 1988, the Karabakh movement had begun as well. After that, everything began to get complicated.

“But in every situation, Karen Demerdjian, Grigor Khanjyan and city hall were doing everything so that construction could continue. It was going very slowly. Then construction stopped, not because of the movement, but because there was a complaint written to Moscow by a nearby tenant.”

Complaints were issued that the building violated many codes and that it was disturbing those living nearby. This delayed construction until mid-1989, as Ghazaryan and his team worked to garner approval again and prove that they were, in fact, not in violation of any codes.

“We were rushing. We all understood that we had to be quick so that he could live there at least one day for it to become a house-museum.”

Everyone working on the project was in a hurry because in 1989, Parajanov had been diagnosed with lung cancer, and his health was rapidly declining. He underwent a pneumonectomy, a lung removal surgery, that same year in Moscow, but his condition unfortunately did not improve. Despite this, he was still active, even traveling to Germany in 1990 where he received an award and announced the creation of his house-museum and workshop. 

On July 17, 1990, he returned to Yerevan extremely ill and was taken to the hospital.

“The last time I saw him was in the hospital. In three days, he died…on July 20,” shared Ghazaryan. 

Parajanov was a beloved artist, filmmaker, director and a champion for artistic liberation. His artwork still continues to inspire the modern world and has even shaped pop culture in America. He never got to see the museum come into complete fruition and was never able to live in it. Thus, the museum is not considered a house-museum. The museum officially opened in the summer of 1991, a year after his death.

“Parajanov would go in and out of the museum during its construction,” said Ghazaryan. “His energy remained in the museum. That is why the museum lives on today.”

While talking about the final moments that he spent with Parajanov, Ghazaryan said, “We didn’t speak. We just looked at each other. Before he died, he kept saying over and over again ‘I will live in Dzoragyugh.’ I told him very quietly, ‘Dzoragyugh is waiting for you.’”

Author information

Jane Partizpanyan

Jane Partizpanyan is a journalism and public relations major at California State University, Northridge. She works as a contributing writer for the Daily Sundial. She's also a public relations coordinator at the Agency 398 PR firm and a published poet.

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On August 10, 1916, in Richmond, Virginia, birds were singing and the sun was shining when Ernest Herbert Dervishian took his first breath. His parents Hagop and Mary were Armenian refugees who were forced to leave their beloved land and started a new life in the United States. After surviving hell, this little angel was a true gift of God.

Dervishian was a cheerful boy who was always willing to help and eager to learn something new. After studying at Richmond College, he decided to become a doctor until an unforgettable tour of the Medical College of Virginia made him change his mind. He later recalled, “They showed us the most gruesome things to see if we could take it, and I just couldn’t. This included an entire bin of cadavers. I had never seen a dead man before”. After realizing that the medical field wasn’t for him, Dervishian went to law school and passed the bar in December 1937.

A son is never old enough or strong enough to lose his dad, and neither was Dervishian. He lost his father on February 21, 1940. The following year, Dervishian put his law career on hold to serve his country and fight for peace, democracy and freedom. He became a proud member of the 133rd Infantry Regiment, 34th Infantry Division and first saw combat in Tunisia. Like every soldier serving in the US Army, Dervishian received basic training, but nothing could prepare these young men for what they were about to endure.

Thousands of miles from home, Dervishian saw the indescribable horrors of war and knew that he could be captured, wounded or killed at any moment. The thought of dying and never seeing his loved ones again was terrifying. Dervishian later said, “Any man who tells you he’s not scared when fighting is either a fool or a liar.”

Author and educator John Baldoni once said, “Heroism is not blind courage: it is selfless action. It is knowing the odds are stacked against you, but feeling that you must do what you do for the good of others.” That is exactly what Dervishian did, day after day, battle after battle. 

T/Sgt Ernest H. Dervishian was among the infantrymen who confronted German forces in Italy. First near Salerno (September 1943), and then near Anzio (January 1944). The fighting was ferocious, and so many lives were taken by the cruelty of war.  

On May 23, 1944, Dervishian and four members of his platoon were near the village of Cisterna, Italy. They were far ahead of their company and were advancing cautiously. As Dervishian approached a railroad embankment, he spotted many German soldiers hiding in dugouts. He then told his four comrades to cover him and launched a solo attack, which took the Germans by surprise. Dervishian and his men captured 25 German prisoners who were picked up by advancing units. Shortly after, Dervishian and his men spotted more German soldiers and launched another attack against them. Ignoring his own safety and the bullets flying above his head, Dervishian kept moving forward and managed to capture more German soldiers. The Americans kept attacking German positions, but suddenly, Dervishian and his men were pinned down by a heavy machine gun stationed 15 yards away. In order to make the Germans stop firing, Dervishian decided to play dead. He later recalled, “I laid still for about 10 minutes. I was shaking so hard I thought it would give me away. Bullets sprayed alongside my arm so close that they made my sleeve flutter.” When the firing stopped, the unthinkable happened. Dervishian stood up and attacked the machine gun nest with hand grenades and his carbine. He forced the four Germans inside the nest to surrender and used their machine gun to attack another German position. The entire engagement lasted about 25 minutes, and Dervishian ultimately captured 39 German soldiers.  

To honor his outstanding courage, on January 8, 1945, Dervishian was awarded the Medal of Honor, the highest award for military valor. When he returned to Richmond, the mayor declared February 1st as “Dervishian Day” with more than 30,000 people in attendance to acclaim this Armenian American hero.

Following the war, Dervishian remained active in the Army Reserve and retired as a colonel in 1968. He became the happiest man in the world on December 10, 1950, when he married the love of his life, Anne Garoogian. Together, they raised three lovely girls.

On May 20, 1984, in Richmond, Virginia, birds were singing and the sun was shining when a hero named Ernest Herbert Dervishian took his last breath. Three days later and exactly 40 years after that extraordinary day in Italy, a crowd gathered at Westhampton Memorial Park in Richmond, Virginia, to honor a remarkable man, a loving husband, a wonderful father and a true hero.

Like all the Armenian American heroes who gave everything they had to defeat the forces of tyranny, Dervishian didn’t consider himself a hero. “God’s hand was on my shoulder. I was lucky. Countless others performed acts equal to mine. They were not so lucky.” But Dervishian was a real hero—a relentless hero whose bravery was stronger than fear; a selfless hero who was willing to die for future generations to live in peace; an inspiring hero whose legacy will live on forever.

Author information

John Dekhane

John Dekhane grew up in Paris before moving to the South of France. He works for a sport organization in Monaco. Since he was a child, he has always been interested in World War II with particular emphasis on American soldiers. In order to honor them, over the past years, he has located and purchased WWII U.S. artifacts in Europe and donated these items to more than a hundred museums in the United States.

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August 31 marks the 114th birth anniversary of Armenian American writer William Saroyan—the son of Bitlis’ Armenak and Takoohi and a first-generation Fresno Saroyan. But the story of the Fresno Saroyans did not start or end with the most famous Saroyan family member. 

William’s mother Takoohi had a first cousin named Mampre Saroyan, a fellow Bitlisian, who in his private memoirs credited the Hairenik newspaper as the source for the improvement of his native Armenian tongue. Mampre and his family escaped the Armenian Genocide a few years after Takoohi and Armenak had already settled in America. But it took several decades for the separated Saroyan families to reunite in Fresno, California.

In a recent interview with the Weekly, Dr. Tony Mampre Saroyan, the great-grandson of Mampre Saroyan, a doctor of psychology and a mental health advocate, shared his great-grandfather’s story of survival and his thoughts about being related to one of the most famous Armenians who ever lived.

While William Saroyan was growing up as a little boy in America, the Armenians who remained in occupied Western Armenia were experiencing the apotheosis of the Armenian Genocide. 

“I was the shoemaker for the Kurdish mayor of Khnus,” recalled Mampre Saroyan of his escape in Dr. Richard Hovannisian’s essay “Shades of Altruism in the Armenian Genocide.” “I said, ‘Bey, all the shoemakers from here are being deported.’ He replied that if I would stay he would protect me and my family.”

The Kurdish mayor of Khnus allowed Mampre and his family to hide out from the Ottoman Turks until it was safe for him to escape. Then, they traveled to Istanbul where they were able to take a boat to America.

“They were eventually able to leave once they were told the coast was clear,” recounted Dr. Tony Saroyan. “It was pretty brutal when he had to escape. Hearing women and children crying, seeing dead bodies on the river.”

“There was no Armenian left in the city,” were Mampre’s chilling words in Dr. Hovannisian’s essay.

According to the Armenian Immigrant Project, Mampre’s cousin Aram, most notably known as “Uncle Aram” (the lovable uncle of William Saroyan), sponsored Mampre’s journey to Ellis Island.

But when Mampre and his family landed at Ellis Island in May of 1921, they were turned away for reasons still unclear. They decided to settle in La Merced, Mexico along with 200 other Armenians. 

That’s where Dr. Tony Saroyan’s grandfather Dr. Suren Saroyan grew up and adopted much of the culture. “Armenians had to assimilate to Mexican culture because there were no Armenian churches, no Armenian schools,” said Dr. Tony Saroyan.

After graduating from the National Autonomous University of Mexico, Dr. Suren Saroyan became the first in the family to move to Fresno, where he did his residency as an anesthesiologist at Fresno Community Hospital. A few years later, around 1952, he was enlisted into the US Navy and became a lieutenant and surgeon during the Korean War. During this time, Mampre and his wife Ardemis followed suit to Fresno, a long-awaited Saroyan family reunion.

Over the years, Dr. Suren Saroyan built a relationship with William Saroyan. When he was in Mexico, the acclaimed author even sent Dr. Suren Saroyan a copy of his book in Spanish.

“The stories [themselves] though,” said Dr. Tony Saroyan with a sigh, “I wish I had more of them.”

Dr. Suren Saroyan was a prominent Armenian in his own right, becoming a founding member of the Holy Martyrs Ferrahian Elementary and High School, the first Armenian day school in America. He was also awarded the Order of the Grand Cross of the Knights of Cilicia by His Holiness Khoren I, Catholicos of the Great House of Cilicia.

Dr. Suren Saroyan and William Saroyan died in the same year—William on May 18, 1981 and Suren on August 28, 1981.

Proof of their relationship is in a signed book gifted to Dr. Suren Saroyan in which William wrote, “All good wishes to the first Saroyan doctor, Suren. With sure faith that his work will be eminent and good.” 

It took Dr. Tony Saroyan some time until he realized the rich history that came along with his last name. “It wasn’t a big deal for me initially because I didn’t grow up around Armenians. Once I got a little older, I would read his books for middle school projects, and I felt a sense of connection to that,” he explained. “Having the last name puts positive pressure on me. I don’t want to be just a Saroyan.”

Author information

Jane Partizpanyan

Jane Partizpanyan is a journalism and public relations major at California State University, Northridge. She works as a contributing writer for the Daily Sundial. She's also a public relations coordinator at the Agency 398 PR firm and a published poet.

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WATERTOWN, Mass. — The Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) Archives constitute an invaluable repository of modern Armenian history from the late-19th century to our days. Thousands of reports, letters, telegrams, brochures, diaries, memoirs, photographs and artifacts make up the core of the collection, shedding light on the history of the ARF since its inception in 1890 and, more broadly, the history and culture of the Armenian people in its homeland and in communities around the globe.

After the opening of a reading room, the archives have hosted dozens of researchers in recent years. Here, the Armenian Weekly presents a collection of photographs from the archives to the subscribers of its print edition and its readers online.

The post A Photographic Journey into the ARF Archives appeared first on The Armenian Weekly.

Krikor (George) Nahabedian was born in the village of Parchanj (Kharpert region) around 1884. He married Khachkatoun Garabedian, and soon thereafter, a son Boghos was born. Krikor arrived in the US in 1912 on the SS Majestic, leaving behind his wife and son. It would be over 10 years before he would see them again. 

The book Village of Parchanj: General History by Manoog Dzeron includes family trees for around 100 families including the Nahabedians (Chaghchban Navo) and Garabedians (Kharachortsi Garabedenk). Khachkatoun’s family was said to have come to Parchanj from Aghmezre sometime prior to the Hamidian massacres, and I was able to confirm this through Ottoman population registers. From these records, we can trace Khachkatoun’s family back to Ohanes, son of Mateos, born around 1780. 

What is fascinating is that the archives of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) contain the passport application of Boghos Nahabedian. Boghos signed his passport application on July 31, 1923. Coincidentally, he would arrive in the US in 1925 on the very same SS Majestic as his father did more than a decade before. The family settled in the New England area, and their descendants remain part of the local Armenian community. 

Over the past year, significant progress has been made in digitizing portions of the ARF archives to make them better accessible to the public. In particular, thousands of photographs have been scanned and will gradually be made available through a revamped website. This collection ranges from photographs of early fedayees, portraits of leading individuals and ARF organizational bodies, as well as images with cultural, religious and ethnographic themes.

The photographs will be of interest to historians and the general Armenian public, particularly to many whose family members appear in them. 

But photographs are not the only items within the archives that will capture the interest of every Armenian.

In late summer, while unpacking each and every box in the archives—including some that had not been opened in more than 30 years—I came across the records of approximately 20,000 passport applications submitted to the government in exile of the Republic of Armenia after its fall in 1920. Included in the 20,000 was the application of Boghos Nahabedian. 

My excitement at finding such a significant treasure trove was heightened by the knowledge that my grandmother Margaret DerManouelian had carried one of these passports issued in the name of the Republic of Armenia and dated 1928 when she arrived in the United States.

Armenians had become a stateless people and could not travel internationally. Countries would not accept travelers who did not possess citizenship of another country, for they would be unable to deport them when necessary. After World War I, hundreds of thousands of refugees had been trapped, including most Armenians. These passports issued by the Armenian government in exile allowed for travel. It was not until 1924 that Armenians would be covered by the more well-known Nansen passports. 

Each application includes a photograph of the person, their birthplace and date of birth, the name of their father and maiden name of their mother. Also included is the location where the person was living at the time. It very well could be that these documents will constitute the only place to locate such information for thousands of Armenians.

When the passports were issued, they were ripped from a ledger along a perforation that left a stub receipt. This receipt also contained a photograph and the name of the person for whom the passport was being issued. The ARF archives also contains a number of these receipts.

One receipt in particular caught my eye. It was for someone born in Copenhagen around 1880. At first, I was amazed to think Armenians had been living in Copenhagen long enough to have children born there and to give them a Scandinavian first name of Inga. However, a bit of research showed that Inga Nalbandian was the married name for Inga Henriette Lucinde Collins. Inga had met and married Paul Mardiros Nalbandian in Switzerland before settling in Constantinople. After her husband’s death, she returned to Denmark and wrote three books with Armenian themes. The books have been translated into English and published together under the title Your Brother’s Blood Cries Out. It is fascinating to learn that on July 6, 1921 she received a passport from the Republic of Armenia!

The archives also contain some canceled and unused passports. But there are other treasures in the archives that will be of broad interest. For example, thus far there have never been any detailed records, census, sacraments or otherwise, that have ever come to light for the region of Moush. The Ottoman archives in Istanbul only contain summary registers for the Bitlis region. Similarly, Armenian church records are only available in summation. However, recently a census performed by the ARF in 1912 was found in the archives for 17 villages of the Moush plain. The names of 5,420 Armenian males in 1,662 households are given in these 17 villages. It seems clear that the register was originally much larger, but it is fortunate that even this much has remained. 

Since its founding in 1890, the ARF has both guided and reflected the aspirations of the Armenian people and the trauma they have experienced. Thus, a study of the history of the party is also a study of the Armenian nation over the past 130-plus years. You cannot understand one without the other.

Before the first decade of existence, the ARF understood the need to preserve a record of the work of the party and Rosdom (Stepan Zorian) is the person to thank for that. But it was in the 1930s and 1940s that the real work of organizing the archives of the ARF took place, and this important responsibility fell on the shoulders of Apraham Giulkhandanian.

While significant work has been accomplished thus far, there is much more yet to do. Those wishing to make a tax-deductible donation toward the work of digitizing the archives and making them available online can do so here. 

Author information

George Aghjayan

George Aghjayan is the Director of the Armenian Historical Archives and the chair of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) Central Committee of the Eastern United States. Aghjayan graduated with honors from Worcester Polytechnic Institute in 1988 with a Bachelor of Science degree in Actuarial Mathematics. He achieved Fellowship in the Society of Actuaries in 1996. After a career in both insurance and structured finance, Aghjayan retired in 2014 to concentrate on Armenian related research and projects. His primary area of focus is the demographics and geography of western Armenia as well as a keen interest in the hidden Armenians living there today. Other topics he has written and lectured on include Armenian genealogy and genocide denial. He is a frequent contributor to the Armenian Weekly and Houshamadyan.org, and the creator and curator westernarmenia.weebly.com, a website dedicated to the preservation of Armenian culture in Western Armenia.

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The fedayees of the Armenian revolutionary movement still loom large today, their heroism and bravery having made an indelible mark on the pages of our people’s history. Unfortunately, all too often, we focus only on the male fighters and revolutionaries of this period. From this reality, some may draw the conclusion that the militaristic aspect of the movement resulted in the exclusion of women from holding important positions during that time. However, the truth is quite the opposite: innumerable women were instrumental in the success of Armenian revolutionary organizations. In fact, the renunciation of revolutionary struggle and transition to peaceful Diasporan life were far more detrimental to women’s importance and standing within Armenian organizational life and society.

This two-part series will discuss the role of women as Armenian revolutionary leaders and organizers; examine their role in secret revolutionary activity; the factors which limited their participation; and the debilitating effects of the transition to Diasporan life on Armenian women.

There were many female leaders in the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF), especially in the first few decades of the party’s existence. One notable figure was Zarouhi Deroyan (Zhenia), who served on the Central Committee of Vasbouragan (Van). Following the great ideal of revolutionary leadership, she not only engaged in tasks related to organizing and planning, but she also was involved in arms transportation and intelligence gathering. In fact, she was so dangerous to the Ottomans that before beginning their attacks and massacres in Van, the first thing they did was arrest Deroyan. Rather than imprisoning her in Van where she could be broken out by her ARF comrades, they exiled her – first to Constantinople and then to Jerusalem, where they sent the most dangerous and influential revolutionaries (Catholicos Khrimian Hayrig, for instance). Both Catholicos Ormanian and the ARF were actively engaged in trying to free Deroyan from exile; she was finally able to return after the overthrow of the Sultan in 1908.

Unfortunately, during the Bolshevik invasion of Armenia, much of Armenia’s intellectual and military leadership was either decimated or forced into exile. This reign of terror was not curtailed by the boundaries of gender: female ARF members and leaders were imprisoned and martyred alongside their male counterparts, including Natalia Amirkhanian, a longtime ARF organizer and ideologue. Amirkhanian first entered the revolutionary fray when she joined the Russian socialist Narodnaya Volya (“People’s Will”) secret terror organization. In 1882, when Amirkhanian was only 19 years old, the organization began to fracture over ethnic divisions, so she joined Armenian “Narodnik” cells. Amirkhanian joined the ARF just after its founding in 1890 and remained a committed member until her death. She moved to Karakilise (modern-day Vanadzor) to bring the revolution to provincial Armenians. It’s where she was elected year after year to the ARF Committee (Gomideh) until the Bolshevik invasion of Armenia and fall of the Armenian Republic. 

The Bolshevik invaders arrested ARF members across the whole of Armenia, subjecting them to the harshest of conditions. When the anti-Soviet February Uprising of 1921 began, the Bolsheviks began to execute political prisoners en masse; this occurred both in Yerevan, where hundreds of prisoners were axed to death and in provincial jails like Karakilise. On February 16, 1921, two days before the Armenian nationalist rebels would liberate Yerevan, Amirkhanian was murdered alongside her comrades in Karakilise by Bolshevik executioners. Even in her old age and facing certain death, Amirkhanian did not waver in her convictions and love for her party.

One woman who reached some of the greatest heights in the party was Daria Goloshian, an early member of Kristapor Mikayelian’s “Young Armenia” and the ARF. Like Amirkhanian, Goloshian was also involved in the Narodnik movement before Armenian revolutionary organizations were formed. Unfortunately, very little information exists about Goloshian. What is known is that she served as treasurer and accountant for both the ARF Bureau and Central Committee of Tiflis in the early years of the party.

Of course, when discussing the role of women in leadership, it is impossible to forget the Matinian sisters: Natalia and her more famous sister, Satenik. Natalia Matinian joined the ARF in 1890 and was a committed, lifelong unger. In fact, she carefully chose her profession – midwifery – so that she would be able to have a cover for her frequent travels and gain access to private spheres. Praised for her secrecy and described as “serious, silent and cold-blooded,” Natalia Matinian carried out many secret assignments for high bodies of the ARF, including the Bureau. Her home functioned as a hub for ARF activities; she also served on an ARF Central Committee for years.

At only 15 years of age, Natalia’s sister Satenik was already an active participant in the efforts to create the union of revolutionary parties that would come to be known as the ARF. After the first ARF World Congress in 1892, Satenik was directed to go to Tabriz in northern Persia, where she would organize the Armenian community and the Armenian women of Tabriz, bringing them out of the female domestic sphere and inspiring them with revolutionary ideals, so that they might, in time, join the ranks of the party. 

This was a common endeavor during the first decade of the ARF’s existence and many party women were asked to form female khoumps (groups). These would often start as charity organizations or reading groups so as to operate without suspicion; while men were more free to join revolutionary organizations (especially in places like Persia), women were often trapped in patriarchal familial relations that necessitated the creation of a believable cover for their political activities. These women were eventually pulled from patriarchal families and societies and introduced to politics for the first time. They became integrated into the work of the party and would become the weaponsmiths and planners of the ARF’s secret operations.

This was a particularly difficult task for Satenik because the Armenian community in Tabriz was more conservative than many others, making it hard to penetrate the family structure. Regardless, Satenik was largely successful and able to organize nearly all the women of Tabriz around the revolutionary ideals of the ARF. “The Armenian women of Tabriz, wrapped in black and blue cloaks [chador], rush to the meeting – no one wishes to miss it. All are sitting quietly while Miss Satenik speaks. In that moment, she was the perfect missionary, the personification of ideology, and from the depths of her soul, stories of the miserable and harsh life in the Homeland were springing out. Like a fanatic preacher, she described the hell that was called Turkish-Armenia, where the Armenian people were suffering nationwide.” This description by Abraham Giulkhandanian perhaps paints the best picture of the ideological giant that was Satenik Matinian: a committed ARF member, community organizer, weapons transporter and above all, revolutionary.

Part II of this article will discuss the role that women played in secret revolutionary activities – as saboteurs, bombers, arms smugglers, and so on. In addition, it will delve into some of the limitations and restrictions that women faced in the revolutionary sphere, the dangers of their participation, and the reason why revolutionary activity promoted the voice and role of women, while the transition to a peaceful Diasporan existence was a source of marginalization for them.

Author information

Aram Brunson

Aram Brunson is a freshman at the University of Chicago from Newton, MA. He is a proud member of the AYF-YOARF Greater Boston “Nejdeh” Chapter and serves on the AYF’s Central Educational Council. In addition, he dances with the Hamazkayin “Sardarabad” Dance Ensemble and is a member of the Armenian National Committees of Eastern Massachusetts and Illinois.

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Continuing the discussion of women’s participation in the Armenian revolutionary movement, this second installment will address underground insurgent actions, the limitations of women’s participation and the impact of the transition to Diasporan life. 

A myriad of women were involved in the field of secret subversive activities, including creating and storing firearms and building explosives.

Roubina Areshian was one of the main planners of Operation Njuyk – the Yıldız assassination attempt on the life of the Sultan. This great endeavor to eliminate “Bloody Sultan” Abdülhamid II in retribution for his authoritarianism and role in the massacres of Armenians was initially led by Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) founder Kristapor Mikayelian. When Mikayelian was martyred while building explosives, Areshian assumed joint leadership of the operation and pushed to move forward with the attack.

In fact, it was Areshian who activated the timer for the explosive. Unfortunately, because of the timed nature of the weapon and an atypical day in which the Sultan was caught up in conversation with an Imam, he was not harmed by the explosion. As a result, this operation – which would have doubtlessly ameliorated the conditions of Armenians across the Ottoman Empire – was unsuccessful. Unfortunately, one of the other planners, Safo (Martiros Margarian), attempted to shift the blame for the failure onto Areshian, when it was his own cowardice and insistence on refusing to implement secondary measures that led to the failure of the operation. His baseless accusations and gendered attacks, however, at the 1907 World Congress did not achieve the result he sought; the Congress sided with Areshian’s account of the events and expelled Safo from the party.

Zhenia Adamian is another key figure in the ARF’s history. Her involvement in the organization began before many of her contemporaries and precedes even the creation of the ARF. Adamian was a member of the Russian revolutionary party Narodnaya Volya (of which Mikayelian and Zavarian were also members) and Mikayelian’s precursor to the ARF “Young Armenia.” After 1890, she was involved in almost every sphere of the ARF’s activities. Initially, she was invited by party co-founder Simon Zavarian to teach at a school in Turkish-Armenia where he was serving as director. Turkish-Armenia was viewed as unsafe and full of criminals. That’s why her Tiflistsi parents forbade her from leaving; she left home regardless and arrived at the school in Trabzon. The Turkish government, however, suspecting her of being a revolutionary, did not even allow her to enter the school. Returning to Tiflis, she dedicated herself to the activities of the party.

Adamian used her home to store both revolutionary material (leaflets, newspapers, etc.) and weapons. In fact, she operated the first printing press of the ARF, publishing the first party leaflets and issues of Droshak. During the Armenian-Tatar Wars of 1905, Adamian’s house functioned as the ARF’s central armory; she received and stored hundreds of rifles and thousands of bullets, which would then find their way into Armenian villages and self-defense brigades in Artsakh, Nakhichevan and Syunik. Historian and ARF Eastern Bureau member Abraham Giulkhandanian wrote of Adamian: “Zhenia, being very used to secret work, received important assignments from the Eastern Bureau innumerable times, and it can be said that she completed all in good faith.”

Isgouhi Baljian, a member of an ARF khoump (group) in Constantinople, played an instrumental role in the takeover of the Ottoman Bank. Planners of the operation met in Baljian’s home, which was also used as a weapons storage facility. Baljian, along with Hrach Tirakian and Armen Garo, also worked on creating the bombs and grenades used in the occupation, filling each device with explosive powder by hand. Of the 10 main organizers of the operation to occupy the Ottoman Bank, three were women; one of these was likely Yousdig (Isgouhi) Tiulbendjian, a member of Baljian’s khoump, whose home was also used to store weapons and explosives. After the Bank Ottoman operation, Tiulbendjian was unable to return to her home due to crackdowns by the Turkish state; interestingly enough, however, Tiulbendjian does not appear in Armen Garo’s memoirs surrounding the event, though Baljian is prominently featured.

Unfortunately, it is impossible to say that revolutionary activity eliminated the role of societal sexism. Even in progressive circles, there were some limitations on the revolutionary work of women. Mostly, this came down to two often synonymous activities: entering the Ottoman Empire and engaging in military combat. Crossing over into Turkish-Armenia or the yergir (“homeland”) as it was often known, was considered by some to be “too harsh” of a journey for a woman and a few fedayee groups were hesitant to bring female revolutionaries with them to the yergir. The bigger concern, however, was to involve women in military combat. Besides notable exceptions (like Sose Mayrig) and extreme cases (Sassoun Uprising; Genocide era), women did not typically fight in self-defense resistance battles, though in some cases held auxiliary roles – resupplying ammunition to fighters, treating the wounded and so forth.

Female ARF members, while absent on the battlefield, still engaged in dangerous work (e.g. weapons-making, explosives creation). The storage and transportation of weapons was also incredibly perilous. One unannounced entrance or break-in by state authorities could mean life in prison or death at the gallows.

Despite some of the aforementioned limitations on women’s participation in the Armenian liberation movement, secret revolutionary activity actually elevated and emphasized the role of women, rather than minimized it. One explanation for this phenomenon is the fact that revolutionary operations were not carried out in the public sphere, where women were marginalized and brushed aside, but rather, in the private sphere, where they would not have to deal with the conservative backlash of community institutions and societal expectations. This launched them to great heights within revolutionary parties where all comrades were equal and where their work, not their gender, determined their status in the organization. 

Furthermore, female revolutionaries were naturally less suspicious, due to the sexist societal organization of the time. The Ottoman state was predominantly looking for two identifiers within their profile of the komitadji (revolutionary subversive): Armenian and male. Papken Siuni and Zarouhi Deroyan wore non-Armenian (Turkish and Kurdish) clothes when gathering intelligence to bypass the first identifier, but women, to some degree, automatically avoided the second factor of state suspicion.

Ultimately, however, there is nothing that separates men and women in their aptitude for revolutionary activity. Women are equally capable of firing weapons, cutting throats and creating explosives. Indeed, throughout the history of the ARF, there were many women engaged in manufacturing firearms and explosives. When given the chance to be free of their patriarchal households and lifestyles, women could be and often were just as patriotic, ruthless, ideological and courageous as the male fedayees that we find in our books and songs. 

Unfortunately, the Diasporization of the Armenian people and the ARF contributed to a foreign gendered conception of societal and organizational structuring, which pushed women to the sidelines. One example of this is the Armenian Red Cross (known today as the Armenian Relief Society), which was founded in the Diaspora as a women’s alternative and auxiliary to the ARF. This ARS-ARF dichotomy only increased over time, creating a gendered matriculation process: young men engage in political activities by joining the party, while young women do apolitical or less political work by joining the ARS. Thus, the crucially important, yet non-political task of supporting and maintaining the local community and engaging in humanitarian activities became unnecessarily gendered.

In addition, the transition to peaceful Diasporan life saw Armenians acclimate to western gender norms, which increasingly limited women’s voices in the public sphere, even in spaces and bodies that formerly encouraged and celebrated them in the Old Country. This uprooting and exile from the homeland followed a period when, on both sides of the Russo-Turkish border (Eastern and Western Armenia), more women were getting their education and becoming active in the public and political sphere; they began to not only carve a place for themselves in the national liberation movement, but at the same time, push forward the cause of gender liberation.

However, after the Diasporization of the Armenian people, the sexist and patriarchal attitudes in places like the United States and much of Western Europe only served to reassure conservative Armenians that their beliefs were well-founded and that it was the social revolutionaries who were wrong; even for progressive Armenians, many of whom were ignorant to the insidiousness of assimilation and were enamored with all aspects of the countries which welcomed them with open arms, the anti-female prejudices in their new countries, combined with a lack of the revolutionary private sphere, caused them to push women to the sidelines: as homemakers, caretakers, church women’s guild members, and so on. And all at once, the generation of Matinians, Areshians, Baljians, Deroyans and a number of other fearless and coldblooded female ideologues and revolutionaries – without whom the ARF could not have functioned – seemingly disappeared.

Today, we see the consequences of the end of true revolutionary activity. It was the conditions created by total struggle against Turkish, Tsarist and capitalistic oppression that allowed women to flourish and make their imprint on the history of our people. Now, after more than 100 years in the Diaspora, we have higher organizational bodies which are completely disproportionate to the gender makeup of their constituent bodies, reflecting little advancement as a people, despite great social leaps forward in the world around us. And as long as we continue to live in the Diaspora and continue to be at peace with the conditions of our people and methods of our Cause, this reality will also persist. It is only through revolution (intellectual, militant, socio-cultural, etc.) that we can free ourselves of both the political and societal shackles that have long enchained our people.

Author information

Aram Brunson

Aram Brunson is a freshman at the University of Chicago from Newton, MA. He is a proud member of the AYF-YOARF Greater Boston “Nejdeh” Chapter and serves on the AYF’s Central Educational Council. In addition, he dances with the Hamazkayin “Sardarabad” Dance Ensemble and is a member of the Armenian National Committees of Eastern Massachusetts and Illinois.

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On December 12, 1908, in Chicago, Illinois, a beautiful baby named Sam Kazar Harootenian was born. This little boy looked like an ordinary baby, sounded like an ordinary baby and behaved like an ordinary baby, but he was far from ordinary.

Sam was the pride and joy of Mary and Kazar Harootenian, Armenian refugees who were forced to leave their beloved land and start a new life in the United States. Sam loved his parents as much as they loved him, and he always listened to their precious advice.

From an early age, his parents told him what being Armenian is all about, and how, throughout history, Armenians have always shown resilience, strength and courage. Sam quickly understood that the Armenian blood running through his veins would always give him the capacity to resist, against all odds.

In 1943, the forces of tyranny were destroying everything like a tsunami, so Sam did what he had to do. Like many Armenian American men, he decided to join the US Army to liberate Europe and defeat the Nazis. 

Known as Corporal Sam Harrison (his Americanized name), Sam Harootenian became a proud member of the 280th Field Artillery Battalion and landed on Utah Beach (Normandy, France) on September 18, 1944.

Sam participated at the Battle of Hürtgen Forest, which took place in Germany between September 19, 1944 and December 16, 1944. More than 30-thousand American soldiers were killed or wounded during that battle. The fighting was so deadly that everyone called it “The Death Factory.”

The best way to comprehend what happened in that forest is to listen to the men who survived that horrendous battle.

John R. Weinert (12th Infantry Regiment, 4th Infantry Division): “The death and destruction was unbelievable. Dead bodies were stacked, like logs, awaiting recovery. Whole sections of forests were sheared off 50 to 60 feet above ground by incoming artillery tree bursts.”

John Herbert Brill: “Many of the combat veterans who fought through the D-day landing and later the Hürtgen Forest remarked that Hürtgen was by far the bloodiest, most filthy fight they had encountered. These heroic men fought continuously within 50 yards of the enemy, often with actual physical contact and with sure death only seconds away. It was not an uncommon sight to see a dead soldier with the pit of his stomach ripped open, with his head blown completely off, with his back broken by shrapnel, or to hear the wounded scream in terrifying pain with their legs or arms completely blown off by an enemy shell.”

Camille E. Pepin (121st Infantry Regiment, 8th Infantry Division): “You got so scared, it wasn’t funny. And let me tell you, there were no atheists in the foxholes, it’s true. It was indescribably dangerous and, looking back, it’s hard to believe you did that.”

Deep in that forest, Sam Harootenian showed remarkable courage and fought heroically. Against all odds, he survived the Battle of Hürtgen Forest and headed towards the Rhine River. He later recalled: “Our artillery scouts made their own reconnaissance and went into position as an isolated unit. We reached the Rhine on March 5, 1945. Crossed the Rhine on March 27, 1945.”

Three weeks before the war in Europe was over, Sam and his brothers-in-arms were in Hanover in Northern Germany. Suddenly, without any warning, their position was badly hit by German fire. The attack was devastating, and just like that, many young men were struck by the cruelty of war. Some died instantly, some died after several hours of agony, but Sam refused to die. In critical condition, he was transported to a field hospital where doctors said, “We’d better list him as killed in action.” Clinging to life, his left arm was torn off near the shoulder. He had lost three fingers on his right hand. His right knee had been totally crushed, and his pelvic bones were in pieces. Against all odds, he miraculously survived his wounds and was later taken to a hospital in Paris. He later recalled saying to himself: “Face up to it, Sam. Decide right now how you’ll take all this. Someday you’ll be out in the world, crippled. Will you whine, complain and lose all your friends? Are you going to talk, talk, talk about it, tell how you’re suffering, get everybody to pity you, and run from you? Or are you going to smile, shut up about your pains, be warmly interested in other people, and forget yourself by helping others?”

Sam ended up spending 27 months in hospitals and underwent 33 surgical operations. Day after day, week after week, month after month, he endured unbearable pain and suffering. His body was mutilated, his bones were shattered, and his heart was about to be broken into pieces. In 1946, while he was stuck in hospital, Sam’s mother passed away, and a few months later, his father also died.

Physically and emotionally destroyed, many men would have given up and surrendered to death, but this story isn’t the story of an ordinary man. It’s the story of an Armenian American hero who knew that life is worth living, no matter what.

Sam was later transferred to the Letterman Army Hospital in San Francisco where he was given a wheelchair and intensive rehabilitation. He then decided to stay in San Francisco, where he launched two successful companies.

Sam also spent the rest of his life helping disabled military veterans. His story inspired so many disabled veterans, and his strength gave them so much hope. In 1950, Sam Harootenian was named “Hero of the Year” for rehabilitation work by the Disabled American Veterans. He then pursued his mission by doing extensive rehabilitation work with wounded Korean War veterans.

Talking about this exceptional man, the former mayor of San Francisco Elmer E. Robinson said, “Sam is an inspiration to everyone who knows him. His tremendous force of character is evident in his fight back to a position of great usefulness to this community. He’s a wonderful American. He sets us all a great example of patriotism and unselfish community service.”

On January 1, 1994, in San Francisco, California, the man who refused to die passed away. Sam Harootenian was 85 years old, and he is now resting in peace next to his beloved parents at the Armenian Ararat Cemetery in Fresno, California.

Happy birthday, Sam. Thank you for fighting for our freedom. You will always be an extraordinary man who went through hell for a heavenly cause. Your courage, your story, your kindness, your resilience and your legacy will live on forever.

Author information

John Dekhane

John Dekhane grew up in Paris before moving to the South of France. He works for a sport organization in Monaco. Since he was a child, he has always been interested in World War II with particular emphasis on American soldiers. In order to honor them, over the past years, he has located and purchased WWII U.S. artifacts in Europe and donated these items to more than a hundred museums in the United States.

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Editor’s Note: The original version of this article in Armenian appeared in the September 2020 issue of Droshag. 

Armenians have lived in the Dersim region of the historic Tsopk province since the Armenian pagan period. The temples of Anahit, Vahagn and Astghig were in Dersim.

During the Armenian Genocide, the Qizilbash (or Kizilbash, Alevi) tribes of Dersim sheltered more than 40,000 Armenians. Many Armenians who escaped the 1915 Genocide and took refuge in Dersim converted to Islam and accepted the Alevi religion, adopting the way of life of the Dersim natives. 

In 1938, the Dersim tribes, led by Seyid Riza, resisted Turkish pressure. According to the modern-day intellectuals of Dersim, thousands of converted Armenians took up arms alongside the people of Dersim during the 1938 revolution. As for the massacres by the Kemalist army following the sad end of the uprising, Armenians were also killed and massacred along with the people of Dersim. Today, some European historians accept the theory that the planned massacre of 70,000 Alevis and Armenians of Dersim by Kemalist forces in 1937-38 corresponds to a genocide.

In the first decade following the founding of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF), or Dashnaktsutyun, Dersim was in the party’s focus. The Second Congress of the ARF Dashnaktsutyun included the Dersim province of the historical Tsopats region in the organizational work for the national liberation struggle, since it had a mixed Armenian and Alevi-Qizilbash population.

Armenian and foreign historians confirm that several Dersim Alevi tribes are descendants of indigenous Armenians who converted to the Alevi branch of the Shiite sect of Islam at the beginning of the 17th century. The Miragian Armenian tribe survived until the 19th century in the mountainous region of Dersim.

According to Matti Moosa, the Assyrian historian who specializes in Shiite Islam and the Shiite religion, thousands of Armenians have settled in Dersim over the centuries to avoid religious persecution and have converted to the local Qizilbash Shiite religion while also preserving several traditions of the Christian religion. (1) The rebellious population of mountainous Dersim has been opposed to the Ottoman state for centuries.

The dispatching of ARF kortziches¹ to Dersim gained momentum between 1896-1898. Vaspurakan, Sasun and Daron were the focus of the party’s armed struggle during that period. The issue of organizing Dersim was proposed for the first time during the party’s Second Congress, which was attended by the founding generation of the ARF. 

The ARF Caucasus Regional Assembly was held on December 27, 1896. During the Assembly’s 22 sessions, the issues of organizing the regions of Karazhayr (Dersim) and Lernavayr (Cilicia) were discussed. “Considering the impregnable position of Lernavayr, the revolutionary potential of the local people, other conveniences and advantages in general, the meeting decided to pay serious attention to this region and send an organizing and leading force there. Regarding Karazhayr, some of the members of the assembly expressed skepticism, reservations since for them it is impossible to fully believe in the sincerity and permanent friendship of the people of Zhayr (Karazhayr), and the work there may not be considered Armenian, etc. However, three participants, by bringing convincing arguments from both the past and the present, dispelled all doubts by pointing to the fact that the desired undertaking was already underway, it was half completed, since Keri and his group had reached Karazhayr and had been well received there. Thus, the assembly decided to consider Zhayr as a center of activity and to pay attention to it within the limits of the available financial means.” (2)

Keri of Dersim (Ruben Shishmanian) was one of the first supporters of the rapprochement of Armenians and the Alevis of Dersim and one of the organizers of the first haytuk (partisan) group in Dersim.

On the eve of the ARF Caucasus Regional Assembly, by the order of the ARF Bureau, Garabed Ghumrigian was sent from the Caucasus to Yerznga as a kortzich with a special mission to establish cooperation with the Alevis of Dersim. (3)

In 1896, in a letter dated March 29 to the ARF Central Committee of Garin, Keri confirms that he had received 25 gold coins from the Central Committee, which would be allocated to the ARF’s plans to take root in Dersim. In the same letter, Keri writes that 250-300 gold coins are needed to implement the party program for Dersim. (4) In a letter to the Tabriz Committee dated January 10, 1897, the haytuk leader Tigran Deroyan refers to Keri of Dersim. “Keri has crossed into Dersim (Karazhayr), Gharamelik is also there. There is hope for success in those places. 1000 manats and 100 Ottoman gold have been allocated for that purpose. The Trabzon Committee is also part taking in that work.” (5)

Combining the above facts, it becomes clear that the ARF sought to establish and expand its activities in Dersim, both through kortziches who were missioned to Dersim and by providing financial support for the success of that mission.

Keri of Dersim participated in the ARF Second Congress held in Tiflis in 1898. The issues of negotiations with Sultan Hamid, the founding of Droshag and obtaining financial support from wealthy Armenians would be discussed at that meeting (6). This most pivotal and historic of the Supreme Assemblies of the ARF, at which 19 representatives and 13 kortziches were present, included Kristapor, Rosdom, Zavarian, Arshag Vramian, Armen Garo and Nigol Tuman. As a kortzich, Keri, who was invited to the meeting, stressed in his speeches and reported the need to cooperate with the Zaza-speaking Alevi tribes of Dersim so that the revolution against the Ottoman Empire would become more extensive and multipolar. The Congress decided to continue the system of using and sending kortziches, and a budget was allocated for the implementation of that plan.

After the meeting, Keri went to Dersim. Being well versed with the Zaza language of the Qizilbash, Keri met with Seyid Riza (1862-1937), the leader of the Qureshan and Hasanan Qizilbash tribes of Dersim.

At this point, the ARF’s priority was to organize the self-defense of the Armenian population in Vaspurakan, Daron and Sasun, which slowed down the Dersim program. The party’s funds were allocated to boost the activities of the above-mentioned three organizational districts. (7)

In 1900, Keri returned to Yerznga where he was soon accused by the Turkish authorities of having killed a Kurdish agha (official). After being imprisoned for three years, on July 10, 1903, he was taken to the Tsoren Square of Yerznga by Turkish soldiers to be hanged. Keri of Dersim would not allow the executioner to do his job. With his hands, he put the gallows around his neck and kicked the chair with his feet, thus bravely facing death. (8)

One year after Keri of Dersim’s death, ARF’s official media, Droshag, highlighted the positive consequences of Keri’s work as a kortzich and the existing cooperation between the ARF and the Alevi tribes. The article entitled “Letter from Keghi” talks about the self-defense of the village of Khupus in the Keghi province of the lowlands of Dersim, during which the Dashnaktsakan fighters, together with Dersim’s Haydar Bey and his armed men, resisted and repulsed the attack of the Turks and Kurds. “Times have changed. During the massacre, when the Turks of Palu and the Kurds of Shekhasan plundered many parts of Keghi and came to our village of Khupus (Khupus is a totally Armenian populated village with 400 dwellings), the son of Shahhusseyn Bey of the Khuzujan province of Dersim, Haydar Bey, who also holds the position of governor of the Turkish government, came to our village with his men and resisted the mob with some of our young Armenians. When the Turks and Kurds saw that our village was defending itself, they departed leaving behind a few dead and wounded Kurds and Turks. Thanks to Haydar Bey and several Dashnaktsakan, the village on that occasion was saved from massacre and plunder. Haydar Bey said ‘At first in the eyes of the Turkish government we were a sovereign tribe, but in the time of Dervish Pasha, in the days of our ancestors, by the order of the sultan, he came to conquer Dersim. The Turkish Pasha came, but we, the Zaza tribes, do not pay tribute to the Turkish government, nor do we want to become an instrument in the hands of the government and oppress our Armenian neighbors. If ever a riot breaks out, like it happened last year, I will defend the Armenians wherever needed.’ The Zaza Kurd of Dersim is a defender of his Armenian neighbor, while our rich Armenians abandon their brother of the same nation and do everything in their power to appear in the eyes of the authorities devoted to the government.” (9)  

During this period, mission trips to Dersim by party members appear to have been gaining momentum again. 

The petition dated October 18, 1905 and written by the ARF Khoradzor (Keghi) Committee to the ARF Central Committee of America mentions the need for ARF kortziches. The request is confirmed by the seal of the Garni ARF Central Committee. “Our comrades of Keghi are in contact with Trabzon, Garin and Yerznga and are establishing liaisons with those around them as far as Palu and Charsanchak. Our kortzich comrade there is preparing to visit Dersim this summer, only if we can cover the costs. If a certain amount of money is allocated annually, through this committee, we will be able to gradually organize almost all the provinces surrounding Khoradzor.” (10) 

The geographical importance of Keghi should be emphasized here because the administrative area of Keghi, with more than 50 Armenian-populated villages, borders the province of Dersim directly from the west. Meshet Avedis (Avedis Kazanjian) was a Dashnak kortzich acting in the administrative area of Charsanjak in the lowlands of Dersim. A native of Dersim, he was sent on a special mission to Dersim in 1904, but he was arrested in Keghi by the Turkish government. After being imprisoned for four years, he was pardoned at the time of return of the constitution. In 1909, he participated in the Regional Assembly of the Lernasar ARF Central Committee, during which a special decision was made to organize the villages of Charsanjak. The mission is entrusted to Meshet Avedis and Tigran Chitjian, who immediately set to work and left for Charsanjak. (11) This brave fedayee, who took part in the battles of Sasun during the days of the Genocide, was arrested in Dersim by Turkish soldiers who tied a heavy stone around Meshet Avedis’ neck and pushed him off the Mndzur bridge.

Thanks to kortziches like Meshet Avedis, the ARF, on the eve of the Armenian Genocide, had an organizational presence in Metskert, Keghi and elsewhere in the lowlands of Dersim. Meshet Avedis’ collaborator Giragos Boyajian founded the ARF Dajar Committee in the village of Svchogh in Dersim. (12) In Kevork Yerevanian’s voluminous memoir, “History of the Armenians of Charsanjak,” among the victims of the Genocide in the village of Berri in the lowlands of Dersim are ARF party members, including Armenak Melidosian, a history teacher; Petros Bujikian, a participant in the transport of weapons; Hayk Yenovkian, the chairman of the educational committee; and Mardiros Dagesian, a member of the Berri local city council. 

Many historical sources who have studied the Armenian Genocide confirm that more than 30,000 Armenians took refuge in mountainous Dersim during the days of the Medz Yeghern. The testimony about the Qizilbash Alevis of Dersim and their kindness toward the Armenians is noteworthy reading in the Chmshkatsag bulletin published in Droshag on November 20, 1906: “… the free children of the Azad Mountain are not subject to the Turkish yoke and have the right to look down on the Armenians from the height of their mountains and will surely be pleased to see that although their ancestors changed their religion, renounced the Armenian name, but are now free, proud, and imperious … they generally hate the Sunni Turks and are sympathetic to Christians, especially Armenians, with whom they are in contact in many places.” (13)

 The ARF worked closely with tribal leader Zeynal, a member of the Khormink tribe of the Bingeol province east of Dersim. The first contacts with the people of Khormink was established by Goryun of Koms who, after the second uprising of Sasun, moved to Bingeol to meet the tribal leader, head of the Niyazi ashirat (tribe), and organized a Kurdish committee. (14) It should be noted that Goryun was missioned to the Caucasus and organized the Zangezur and Artsakh regions in 1906. The first meeting between Goryun and Zeynal took place in 1905. After the constitution of 1908, Ruben (Der Minasian) and Goryun went to Bingeol and strengthened the cooperation with Zeynal. To strengthen the Armenian-Qizilbash cooperation, Zeynal suggested organizing mixed marriages between the two peoples. (15)

The ARF Turan Highland Regional Assembly held in Saint Garabed Monastery of Mush decided to consider Zeynal as a representative of the ARF in the region in the sphere of relations with the Qizilbash people. (16) 

The above-mentioned archival documents and testimonies confirm that the ARF included the policy of cooperating and forming alliances with the Qizilbash tribes in its strategy of organizing the Armenian liberation struggle movement. At the same time, the work of organizing the Armenian settlements in the geographical areas of those tribes was a subject of special attention.

As the title of this article states, the mentioned documents are a few examples of the historical evolution of cooperation between the ARF and the Alevi tribes of Dersim. It should be noted, however, that three decades before the Dersim uprising of 1937, if the leader of the uprising and leader of the Dersim people, Seyid Riza, had collaborated with the ARF fedayee Keri, there is a high probability that the cooperation with the ARF would have continued during the Dersim uprising. 

The Dashnaktsutyun’s historical sources mention Hratch Papazian, a participant in Operation Nemesis and later a member of the Syrian parliament, as the member of the party in contact with Dersim in the 1930s. Unfortunately, the prolific Dashnak comrade Papazian did not leave any memoirs or literary contributions about that topic. Probably, it is now time that the history of the ARF-Dersim cooperation in the 1930s are seriously studied through the folds of the ARF archives.

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1. Party activists missioned to organize, lead self-defense and revolutionary actions in the homeland 

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Annotations:

1. Matti Moosa, Extremist Shiites. The Ghulat Sects, New York, 1987, p. 433.
2. Avo, Revolutionary Album, Beirut, 1966, p. 333.
3. Lazian K., Personalities of the Armenian Liberation Movement (Դէմքեր հայ ազատագրական շարժումէն), Montebello, 1993, p. 15.
4. ARF Archives (Դիւան Հ.Յ. Դաշնակցութեան) Volume A, Boston, 1934, p. 325.
5. ARF Archives (Դիւան Հ.Յ. Դաշնակցութեան) Volume B. Boston, p. 353.
6. ARF Archives (Դիւան Հ.Յ. Դաշնակցութեան) Volume B. Boston, p. 226.
7. Lazian K., Personalities of the Armenian Liberation Movement (Դէմքեր հայ ազատագրական շարժումէն), Montebello, 1993, page 17:
8. Droshag, 1903, September, No. 9, p. 126.
9. Droshag, 1904, June, number 6, page 82. 
10. Themes For the history of the ARF (Նիւթեր Հ.Յ. Դաշնակցութեան պատմութեան համար), Volume D, Beirut, p. 190.
11. Yerevanian K., History of the Armenians of Charsanchak (Պատմութիւն Չարսանճաքի հայոց), Beirut, 1956, p. 406.
12. ibid., P. 213.
13. Droshag, 1907, February, number 2, page 20.
14. Droshag, 1926, August-October, No. 8-10, pp. 255.
15. Ruben, The Memoirs of an Armenian Revolutionary (Հայ յեղափոխականի մը յիշատակները), Volume E, Tehran, 1982, p. 67.
16. Ruben, The Memoirs of an Armenian Revolutionary (Հայ յեղափոխականի մը յիշատակները), Volume D, Tehran, 1982, p. 27.

Author information

Vahakn Karakachian

Vahakn Karakachian is the editor-in-chief of Horizon Weekly.

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