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María José Karamanian
(Buenos Aires, Argentina)

Hace ya dos meses que estoy en Armenia y siento que no alcanzan las palabras para describir lo que siento.

La experiencia de venir a través de Birthright Armenia, compartir el día a día con voluntarios de distintas partes del mundo, vivir con una familia armenia, estar desempeñándome como voluntaria en el Hospital rodeada de un ambiente de trabajo más que cálido…

Todos los días acá son diferentes y hay que dejarse llevar y sorprenderse.

En unos días me voy a Gyumri a completar mi último mes de voluntariado, pero puedo asegurarles que el tiempo no alcanza para llenarse de todo lo que este país tiene para darnos.

Armenia es música, es baile, es calidez, es hospitalidad, es “guer u guenats”, es historia, es cultura. Creo que venir a través de Birthright Armenia es la mejor manera de conocer realmente este país. De saber cómo vive la gente, de entender lo que piensan, de ponernos en su lugar.

También es la oportunidad de ver y conocer lo que leímos en libros o nos contaron en la escuela o en nuestras casas.

Es además una manera de comprometernos con la tierra de nuestros abuelos, de dejar de marcar las diferencias entre armenios y armenios de la diáspora: menk polors hai enk.

Cuando pienso en los días que pase acá se me vienen a la mente un montón de sentimientos: de alegría, cada vez que pasamos tiempo con mi familia o los voluntarios; de emoción, cuando fuimos a la marcha del 24 de abril; de nostalgia, cuando miro el Ararat y pienso que mis bisabuelos alguna vez lo vieron también.

Ojala todos los jóvenes armenios del mundo tengan la posibilidad de conocer Armenia como la estamos conociendo nosotros y como lo hicieron otros muchos voluntarios anteriormente. Porque es una experiencia que vale la pena y porque creo que la mayoría de los que viajamos pensamos que venimos a Armenia a ayudar, pero después de estos dos meses increíbles puedo decir que Armenia nos está ayudando a nosotros.

Every Which Way But Down

Patrick Bairamian
(Los Angeles, USA)

How would you feel if your mother lost her job, a natural disaster destroyed your home, your father left you during those two crisis’, she had to take care of you when she had no money or home to raise you in, and on top of all that, both sides of your family refused to talk to you or help you in any situation? Our mother, Armenia, who suffered an economic collapse, earthquake, volatile fever of war, and closed trade along her two longest borders, was in this situation twenty years ago. Twenty years ago, she should have given up. She had no reason to build again, try again, live again. But she didn’t give up. She faltered, she stumbled to regain balance, and limped forward, and carried on. She then started to rebuild. She rose up and reached out. She rose up and began to breathe. But she was tired…she is still tired.

These people, our people, aren’t lazy, scared of oligarchs, against change, against societal evolution, modernization…essentially, a fresh start. When you search beyond the facade of their daily lives, and look past the leaking pipes of their apartment, broken roads to their village, simple meals of bread and cheese, you see that there hangs a heavy burden on our people. Since twenty years after our independence as a stand alone country, we (Diasporans) are expecting too much of a nation in repair. They aren’t broken, they aren’t weak. Give a man a reason to fight here and he will until his death. But,we, expect Western standards of living, governance, and civility, yet few are willing to implement these ideals in the country , and with the people they criticize daily for their lack of XYZ. The people, this country, is exhausted. Not of their potential, not of their resources, but of their hope.

The country isn’t in the dark, but some issues are. And these are issues which the Diaspora can help shed light on. Sure, the country is 20 years old, and we understand it’s still trying. But know that for longer than 20 years, the people, the country, has existed, preserved and maintained its identity for over 3000 years. That’s quite the information stream and burden on the people. It’s time to debunk all the rumors, and be present in this country. It’s time to reinspire the troops with the roar of our freedom to the drumbeat of our heritage. We’ve taken the country back, now we must be present in its refinement.

We fought for our independence, now we have it. But if we aren’t present in the independent state that we have fought for, and continue to fight for from our adopted citizenships, how can we garner the change we all expect to be here when we land at Zvartnots in the succulent Summers, wonderland Winters, blooming Springs, and majestic Falls? There is a need for presence here, and the provinces, the cities, the villages, the nation, and most importantly the people – need it. What can presence do though? Money is all that can change anything in this country, isn’t it?

Artsaj un antes y un después en mí

Cristina Nerguizian
(Uruguay)

La historia está escrita en la tierra, en  las piedras, en la montaña.

¿Quién puede negarlo? Sólo el tirano ambicioso de poder, se atreve a hacer caso omiso a la verdad. Las iglesias armenias son el mayor símbolo y lazo inquebrantable del pueblo con su tierra.

Artsaj marcó un antes y un después en mí.  Todas las palabras de un diccionario no serían suficientes. Cuando veo las montañas, visualizo en ellas a todos los que dieron su vida por la liberación. No puedo describirlo. Mi respiración se contuvo de forma  permanente, mi corazón latió a mayor velocidad. Mis lágrimas brotaron sin control.

Correr el riesgo sin importar individualismos, por el colectivo, por la patria, por la libertad.
Y  los ojos de Diguín Galia, del museo de los caídos en la guerra de Nagorno Karabagh, no tienen rencor a pesar del dolor. Ella, al igual que otras tantas, perdió a su hijo en la lucha. Como madre y junto con otras madres, decidió rendirle homenaje a todos los soldados -en su mayoría voluntarios, sin previa formación militar- que cayeron en su labor. No tiene rencor; se ve la luz en sus ojos, la luz del orgullo de madre  y el amor por la patria.

Minuto a minuto en Artsaj, la emoción aumenta. Descubrí, como algunos me habían adelantado, que lo que las canciones dicen de los Karabaghtsís, es totalmente cierto. Hospitalario, multifacético, valiente, dispuesto a dar su vida. Lo comprobé.

Ellos merecen que continuemos, desde nuestro lugar en el mundo, con la lucha. Esta lucha que nos pide a gritos no olvidarnos de Artsaj. Estoy convencida de que sobre algunas cosas no hay lugar para la duda, ni mucho menos para el olvido. Porque ellos no dudaron en salir a defender a la patria, porque la tierra nos pertenece, porque la historia está escrita en ella, en sus montañas, en sus “jachkar”, en sus santos recintos: las iglesias armenias.

The Promise

Zepur Simonian
(Whittier, CA, USA)

It has been almost two years since I volunteered in Armenia, but it has been almost two  years since my experiences in Armenia have dictated my life. Over the years, I have been trying to tell my friends and family members to do Birthright Armenia, but the number one response has been “how can Armenia help me – what is the experience going to do for me?”

Quite frankly, two years ago, I had no clue what Armenia was going to do for me. In high school, a Birthright Armenia alumni spoke at an AYF meeting about Birthright Armenia and that was it. I told myself that one day I’ll be doing Birthright Armenia. That “one day” was four years later. So, at the age of 21, between undergrad and law school, I went to Yerevan.

Let me just reiterate an overly exaggerated cliché, “Armenia changed my life!” I’m not being sarcastic. Armenia changed my life in the following ways: 1) it made me closer to my family (more than before); 2) it made me adventurous; 3) it made me speak Arevelahayeren at home; and 4) it helped me find my career path.

Perhaps the most enjoyable part of Armenia was living with a host family. When I think of Armenia, I think of my host family. If you ask me how the people are, I will tell you about my host family. My host family changed my negative perception of Armenia. They opened their home to me – a complete stranger – but today I call them my hyoorungal mayreeg and kooyreeg. I miss them so much – I miss staying up until 4 a.m., talking about politics, sports, music, Russian news, anything. I miss going home to prepare the dinner table – it was such an awesome familial environment. We all helped each other – one set the dishes, another made the food, and the other washed the dishes. And, this was every day. This experience taught me the importance of family. We all did our things outside of the home, but once we came home, we made time for each other. We ate, we talked, we did everything together. So I transferred this mentality and lifestyle as best I could when I returned home. I started setting the table, washing the dishes, and eating with my family despite my busy schedule. Now, I am extremely close to my family.

In addition, I have come to loooove adventure and hiking. I love to explore new places and things. The most memorable experience was at Khor Virab. First, my friends and I went to the tunnel to go down the steps, but I freaked out and couldn’t get myself to go down. Instead, I met two old men with whom I spoke for about an hour. I told them that I was scared to go down (yes, I’m a whimp and had my parents been there, they would have made fun of me the entire time). But instead, I had this amazing hayreeg who told me that he would go down with me. He went down before me and of course, being the competitive person, I couldn’t let hayreeg beat me. So, I went down, too. This experience helped me overcome my fear and stupidity, too. But the story gets funnier. My friends and I missed the last bus returning to Yerevan. And I, being the typical type A+ personality (aka crazy), started freaking out. But this hayreeg convinced two cops to drive five people to the next bus station.  So now we had five people cramped in the back seat of a mini car. We had a fantastic experience. As a result of this experience, I have become much more social and able to meet anyone at any place, and really learn to have a good time without any worries.

Moreover, I now love to speak in Arevelahayeren. According to my mother, Eastern Armenian suits me, and I have to agree. Thus, whenever I get the urge, I forego my Western dialect and spit out Russian words with the Eastern dialect.

Hayi achker

María José Karamanian
(Buenos-Aires, Argentina)

El 24 de abril tiene un significado muy especial para todos los armenios.

La conmemoración del genocidio perpetrado por el estado turco contra el pueblo armenio, y el reclamo de reconocimiento y justicia se renuevan año a año.

No pude haber tenido mejor oportunidad, que estar en Armenia para el 97˚ Aniversario del Primer Genocidio del Siglo XX.

Haber ido el 23 de abril a la marcha, y el 24 volver a Dzidzernaghapert, haber estado en contacto con la gente presente, poder poner una flor en homenaje a mis bisabuelos, emocionarme profundamente…

Encontrarme con la mirada de un pueblo que sigue en pie, que sigue manteniendo sus costumbres, sus tradiciones, su religión, su idioma.

Un pueblo dueño de una historia milenaria y de la que me siento orgullosa de pertenecer.

Un pueblo que le demuestra al mundo, que a pesar de los golpes es posible seguir adelante. Armenios en Armenia y armenios repartidos por el mundo, que seguimos manteniendo viva  nuestra identidad.

Este 24 de abril no hicieron falta las palabras. Y marchamos en silencio, porque nos encontramos en las miradas y con eso nos basta. Nos encontramos en los miles y miles de “hayi achker”  que seguimos reclamando justicia para que el 1.500.000 de armenios puedan descansar en paz.

(second from the left)