Armenia

Ortachiya, Aragatsotn Region, Republic of Armenia © Onnik Krikorian / Hetq Online 2006
Since working on the Kurds in Turkey and researching the Yezidi in Armenia for the London-based Kurdish Human Rights Project (KHRP) in 1998, every so often a visiting academic from Europe always brings me back to take a look at Armenia’s largest minority. […]

I’ve literally just walked in the door from meeting up with Christine Allison in Ortachiya, a Yezidi village in the Aragatsotn Region of Armenia. As mentioned in yesterday’s post, Christine is researching the oral history traditions of the Kurds, and as part of that is using Ortachiya as a case study. She also wants to […]

Shamiram, Aragatsotn Region, Republic of Armenia © Onnik Krikorian / Oneworld Multimedia 2005
Now that Christine Allison is in town continuing her research on the oral history traditions of the Kurds in Armenia, I’m off to the Yezidi villages outside of Aparan tomorrow for yet another festival. Really interested in Christine’s research which I first heard […]

By LoonyMoony

“Will you play music tonight?”, I asked as soon as we entered Our Village, a traditional Armenian restaurant in Yerevan. As far as I remembered they had live music every day. I was with my English and Scottish friends Chrisandra and Adrianne. They both teach Armenian dances and are here for dance training and would have been pleased to listen to Armenian folk music while eating Armenian food.

“No”, the waitor replied looking at me reproachingly, “we are not playing music today because it is a day of morning”.

“Ah, sorry, I forgot”, I said.

Well, it is not that I forgot. I kept remembering the horrible plane crash in Sochi all day. Chrisandra and Adrianne who arrived with a dancing group on the day of the tragedy were also upset about the tragedy as well. In fact, Chrisandra said when such tragedies happen you feel sad not only about the people whom it happened to, even though you don’t know them, but you also remember the people you lost.

I agree with her. I always have that feeling. I felt sad on that day. And the day after. And today.

But is it compulsory to show my sadness constantly and do everything for it not to pass? We are a nation crazy for showing off, but grief does not need that. When I cry I like to be alone. However, we are fond of making intertaining shows of our grief. On the day of the crash, Armenia TV broadcast only that, pretending that it was the first to get news to the people. However, there was no news that day because no one knew what exactly caused the crash.

However, lots of different officials would suggest possible versions without any proof, which could only disturb the relatives of thoe that died even more. And I cannot understand the sense in bringing these relatives in front of the camera to show them weeping for some two minutes while asking them who they lost in the crash. Perhaps Onnik, who joined us later in the restaurant, is absolutely right when he said that Armenians are a nation obsessed with mourning.

Just look at our funerals. If not for the coffin of the deceased, one might think it is simply a big feast. I don’t know the majority of my relatives because I meet those who I know very rarely. They did not visit me on my birthday, on my graduation party, or even on my wedding, but when I lose someone close to me they are always there to support me, but to leave me alone as soon as the funeral is over.

The two days of national mourning declared by the Armenian government does not allow the playing of music in public places, and all TV stations have to put on “mournful” music for those days, only to be interrupted by “news” about the crash.

Yesterday, it was a duduk music in Our village — music that is usually played at funerals. That music affects on my psychology. I begin feeling guilty for the fact that I am alive, but does it help the people who lost their lives? Does it help their relatives?

The restaurant becomes silent. Everyone puts a serious look on their face, but it lasts only some two minutes. After that, the music gets drowned out by hysterical laughter from tables occupied by Armenians and their foreign guests. That’s what I call hypocrisy. Isn’t it a huge insult to those who lost their lives or their families in that tragedy?

All the cafes keep quiet for two days. “It must be horrible for the relatives to walk on the streets and hear, for instance, Armenchik’s cheerful voice from the cafes, my friend said while criticizing me for “not mourning along with the whole nation.”

First, the relatives of the deceased do not walk on the streets — they bury their loved ones. Second, please do not feel content about comprehending and respecting people’s feelings because they are going to feel pain much longer after those two days, much longer after you forget this story…