09 Jun My Picture
They came so quickly…no one had time to prepare. The Turkish Army was afraid that our small country was pro-Russia. We, like our neighboring countries, were a border that separated the Turks and the Russians. The Russians were expanding their land into the Caucasus and the Turks were scared. However, that didn’t give them permission to annihilate the Armenians.
I grew up in a very poor family and I lived with my two sisters and seven brothers.
I remember the day the Turks invaded our country. They came so fast and you could hear their vehicles coming. They decided to invade our small town first. When we heard the engines, everyone ran to the dusty windows. I saw green army trucks and what must have been hundreds of men riding in them. When they reached the middle of our town, a man stepped out and stood on a boulder.
“Hello, we are here because you have decided to betray Turkey! Your love for Russia is not a secret and WE WILL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU BECAUSE OF THAT!”
What?!? I trembled in fear. I grabbed the back door handle and ran out of the shop. I could hear the screams of children being grabbed and taken away behind me but I didn’t look back.
I ran all the way home. I found my family hiding in the bushes as they watched our farm burn. What the Turkish didn’t keep, they burned to the ground.
When the soldiers left, we stepped out of hiding and saw the remains of our home. We had to leave. Since we were a poor family, we started our journey out of Armenia on foot. And, since I only had one pair of shoes and they were falling apart, I walked barefoot.
I wrote letters to my friend, Houri, whose brother was at war. She told me many things that we didn’t know because our home was burned.
I felt bad for Houri because her mother had seen her oldest son being beaten by a Turkish soldier. The Turks made a rule that whenever that happened, the wife would be forced into conjugal relations with their captor. I was thankful that I had a mother around.
Հարգելի Հուրի,
Դա եղել է օրեր, քանի որ ես տեսա արեւը Թուրք զինվորների կողմից գրեթե բռնել էինք, ուստի թաքնվելով քարանձավում մի մղոն հեռու քաղաքում Մենք օրերով թաքցնում էինք նրանցից. Ինչպես է կյանքը? Ինչպես է ձեր եղբայրը? Ուրիշ նամակներ ունեք? Դե, հաջողություն մաղթեք, քանի որ մենք ունենք շատ երկար ճանապարհ Գրկախառնություններ,
Tangakin
Dear Houri,
It has been days since I have seen the sun. We were almost caught by some Turkish soldiers, so we hid in a cave a mile away from the town. We’ve been hiding from them for days. How is life? How is your brother? Have you gotten any letters from him? Well, wish me luck because I have a
long way to go.
Sincerely,
Tangakin
It was our third day in the cave when I had a dream. This was one of those dreams you couldn’t help but remember. I decided to draw it on paper. I didn’t draw the whole dream. I only drew the one part that made me smile. This was my picture. This was the one thing that no one could take from me.
Two of my brothers, Hurik and Ara, didn’t make it out in time. They were hung by their genitals for talking back to the Turkish soldiers. And my sister, Sirvat, jumped off a cliff instead of being raped. I wanted to fight back but I knew that fighting would lead to the same fate as my siblings.
It was a long journey but finally, we arrived in Syria.
My father had sold some of our season’s crops to a farmer who lived in Syria. We walked quietly up to his porch and my father knocked on his door. He opened it and kindly welcomed us into his home.
There was something about Mr. Abadi’s home that made me feel safe. It almost felt like no one could harm me here. Maybe it was the stone fireplace that warmed any object in the room. Or maybe it was the light blue porcelain bowls. I fell down onto the soft pillows that were scattered on the floor.
When we had the farm, I hardly had time to sit down because I was either helping out with the farm or at school.
I was sitting on the bed one day, writing in my diary, when Mr. Abadi walked in. He sat down on the bed and asked me what my name was. I told him, Tangakin. He asked me what I was doing and I showed him a drawing I had been working on. All the happiness was drained from his face in a way. I knew my picture was very upsetting but it was how I felt. It was the truth.
After a few months in Syria, I decided I was going to make my way to America. It was the place of hope. A place where dreams came true.
I said goodbye to my family and the next day got on my first boat. When I stepped onto the boat, the platform wobbled and I stumbled to the inside where I gave the captain my money.
As we pulled away, I waved goodbye to my family. Who knows when I would see them again. I went to my room and pulled out a pen, ink, and my brown leather journal. I had an idea that I couldn’t wait to draw on paper.
I arrived in America two weeks later; A city called New York, and soon after that, I took a train to Los Angeles. But, I wasn’t out of the woods just yet. I had nowhere to live, or so I thought.
My mother’s sister had left Armenia many years ago. They had a fight because my aunt wanted to marry a man, but he had to move to Los Angeles. She didn’t listen to my mother, but she should have. The man left her for another woman in the first four weeks of their relationship. Now she lives in a house in West Hollywood alone.
She invited me to go live with her when she found out that I had come to Los Angeles.
I didn’t remember my aunt at all. My mother had only left one picture of her in our house, but I didn’t know where that was.
I walked up to the steps of her house. I knocked on the door and a short and fit woman came out. She had her black hair pinned up and she was wearing a dark blue dress. She hugged me.
“Tangakin, Tangakin,” she said, her arms still wrapped around me.
I knew this woman was my aunt. She looked like my mother except for her eyes. My mother’s eyes were blue and aunt Nairi’s eyes were a bright kelly green.
She led me into her home. It was neater than I expected, for my mother had always talked of my aunt as sloppy.
There were two tan chairs that had wooden legs. In front of them was a stone fireplace. Two dark wooden tables sat next to the chairs and a small couch that had the same coloring as the chairs.
Next, she led me past a kitchen where I saw a stove next to sandy wooden countertops and a dark sink with a bronze faucet.
Finally, she lead me to the room where I would be staying.
I just stood there for longer than a minute, without breathing, staring at my new room.
There was a pretty bed with a white satin blanket covered in blue roses. The pillows were huge and there were white linen drapes and a blue chair next to a white bookcase that held many books.
I flew onto the bed and Nairi smiled to herself and slowly closed the door as she left the room.
I pulled my journal out of my leather bag. I ripped my picture out of it and pulled out a small leather box and put the picture inside. Finally, I tied a silver ribbon around it, carefully. I ran downstairs and handed it to my aunt. She looked inside and hugged me. I knew this was her dream too.
45 years later…
“Turkey denies being the cause of the Armenian Genocide.”
I watched the T.V, with my mouth open, as the reporter said those words.
“Mom? We’re here,” a voice said through the entryway.
“ Adrienne? Honey, come in!” I said getting up.
I hugged my daughter, Adrienne, and my two grandchildren, Edward and Karen.
We walked into the living room that I had once sat in with my aunt that day 45 years ago. We sat down on the couch, as my husband walked in through the door. He sat down to join us.
This was my dream, and it had finally come true.
And they lived happily ever after…
The End
No Comments