9.Here
and There (22 October 2017)
“Oh,
so you’re from Armenia?”
When they hear I'm Armenian, what seems to them like an easy question to
answer isn’t at all. It’s asked by people who do not have a circle of Armenian
friends who will eagerly fill them in on the finer points of what an Armenian
is, where Armenians are from, why the Armenian Genocide is such a crucial issue
to Armenians and should be to as non-Armenians, where the language is on the
Indo-European language tree, what Armenians typically eat (all of which they,
of course, invented), why there are fifty times (Armenian hyperbole) more
Armenians outside Armenia than inside, why there has been a steady decrease of
Armenians from the Armenian Republic since independence in 1991, and on and on.
Really, I can’t imagine how people can get through their lives without having
an Armenian tutoring them on all these issues, and so many more!
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| You could probably seat 5 people across in this classic at Republic Square (4 Oct. 2017 – Yerevan) |
This
summer I visited Armenia on two occasions. A mere hour and some change flight
from capital to capital, Beirut to Yerevan.
My
first trip, in August, was a six-day visit, during which I led a retreat for Armenian
Evangelical pastors. I was delighted to discover that the retreat was going to
be held in Artsakh, in the town of Shushi, a place I have not visited in 18
years. The second trip Maria and I did together, ten days at the end of
September until early October, and I was the speaker at the annual assembly of
the Evangelical Church of Armenia. And this was only Maria’s second visit to
Armenia, the first one having been 16 years ago. Both trips were great
experiences, challenging, enjoyable, friend-filled, refreshing.
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| Open-air performance of Armenian folk dance and song, “Koutan”, at the foot of the Cascade, on the day we arrived! (28 Sept. 2017 – Yerevan) |
But the question remains: am I “from
Armenia”? When I’m in Armenia, am I from “here” or “there”? “There”, of course,
is the gaping hole left in the lives, culture and heritage of Western Armenia,
the region that the Ottoman Empire/Turkish nationalists attempted to scrub
clean of its pollutants, the Armenian people. They did a pretty good job, too,
because they ruined an ancient civilization and left them to die a drawn-out,
confusing death scattered across the Middle East (to be finished off later by
attrition and emigration), throughout Europe (to maintain an exotic, “oriental”
flavor while being re-oriented), and across the Americas (to be tossed alive
into the “melting pot” while forever arguing with each other over
“American-Armenian” vs. “Armenian-American”). For Western Armenians such as
myself, there is an inevitable longing for something irrecoverable,
bewilderment over what “Armenia” means, and the clash of familiarity with
foreignness when hearing Armenian spoken in the “homeland”.
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| Supplying the missing “N” to the mini-market’s name, “Bakalia” – according to Eastern Armenian pronunciation (5 Oct. 2017 – Yerevan) |
Here’s
an example: before leaving Beirut, we borrowed two SIM cards in order to use
our telephones in Armenia. While feeding some money to a payment kiosk on a
Yerevan street, I must have said “ayo” (yes) to something related to one of the
numbers, because after congratulating me via SMS for paying that amount, it
then claimed that I had only half of the amount left on that SIM card. Hmm.
Time to investigate. First, I asked an acquaintance what might have happened.
Was there an unpaid debt on the card that I had just paid off? He didn’t know.
So I asked another acquaintance if she could call the company and ask about it.
(I wanted someone who could actually understand Eastern Armenian over the
phone, something I find very difficult.) She spoke to the agent, then explained
something to me that I thought I understood: yes, the missing amount went to
pay for something or other. But I needed to know what that something or other
was, so I found an actual store run by that phone company, took a ticket, and
waited my turn to speak to a live human being behind a counter. When my turn
came, I asked her to explain why only half of the amount I paid was shown, and
although she spoke in Armenian, it was littered with various foreign (Russian
and European) words, much like the litter of Turkish, French, English, Arabic
and even Kurdish words blow about our Western Armenian speech. So I asked her
if she could explain it again, which she did, with a bit less patience. Then I
apologized, and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t really understand what you’re
explaining. Thanks for your trouble.” And I left.
Later on, as I mulled this over
instead of going back to sleep, I figured out what had happened to the missing
amount. I suppose the jumble of explanations and the various words from various
languages finally sorted themselves out, and I concluded (correctly) that I had
purchased a calling plan – the amount hadn’t just vanished. But it was
emotionally exhausting to be in a place that didn’t exactly feel like I
belonged.
Perhaps
this gave me a glimpse of the travails encountered by the latest group of
“returnees” to Armenia, the Syrian-Armenians. Many sought refuge from the war in
Syria, beginning in 2012, and in the intervening years some have gone on to
places like Canada, others have returned to Syria, following the subsiding of
military activity, and the rest have settled in Armenia. They have brought a
distinct, yet Armenian, culture to the place, and one can sense it – if one
happens to also be a “Western Armenian”.
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| Lara and us at the “Haleb” social aid organization, operating out of a Northern Blvd. basement (6 Oct. 2017 – Yerevan) |
Maria
and I met up with a young woman, Lara, from our former church in the U.S., who
is now working through Birthright Armenia at an agency helping Syrian Armenians
with various social needs. The restaurant we had chosen was not accepting
people without reservations, so we went to one a couple of doors down. The
waiter who greeted us seemed to speak a more intelligible version of Armenian,
though not the Western dialect. Perhaps he was just accommodating us as
Diasporan Armenians, something quite a few Yerevan natives are able to do.
When he came to our table to take
our order, he asked where we were from. “I know she (Lara) is from the U.S.,
but what about the two of you?” I said, “From Lebanon.” “Where in Lebanon?”
“From Beirut.” “Where in Beirut?” “From Ashrafieh” (the eastern half of the
city). “Where in Ashrafieh?” “From Geitawi” (a section of Ashrafieh). “Where in
Geitawi?” The conversation was getting stranger by the second. “Uhhh… we live
in the former CMC (Christian Medical Center) building.” “I was born in that building!” And so three
Western Armenians connected on a sidewalk in Yerevan, feeling at home with each
other because of the “there” that joined us together.
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| LebCat 8: “Excuse me, is there a law that says I have to be inside the box?” (30 Mar. 2017 – Beirut) |
Often, when encountering people
disgruntled at life in the Middle East (and in Armenia), we hear them complain
about the “here” of their lives today: “This place will never straighten out.”
“You can’t get anywhere if you don’t have powerful friends.” “Why bother? This
isn’t our homeland anyway.” This multitude of comments are all a way of
disengaging with one’s environment, and are usually followed by an announcement
of departure to pursue a life “there”, far away from this region. We are amazed
at how people can feel more connected to that distant, western environment than
to what they consider the corrupt, future-less land of their birth, unable to
see any redeeming qualities. I have no ability to read people’s minds, much
less see what only God can see – their hearts. But I wonder if people can connect
in a different way to the “here” of this part of the world, to experience joy
and contentment in the midst of struggles, and find meaning in investing in
people, albeit while dealing with undeniable hardships.
This
is something that matches our experiences “here” and “there” – when talking with
those who are devotedly working to help others, they note, as we do, that the greatest
need is to prepare people – leaders, especially – who will love their homeland(s)
and serve with their strength, skills and wisdom for the betterment of all.
So,
Armenia, we’ll be back! We’ve made our home here, close by. We consider both
places our own, and trust that they might also consider us their own. [LNB]
