Listen to individual narratives to learn from suffering

Friday, April 24, 1998

Listen to individual narratives to learn from suffering

GENOCIDE: Emotional trauma, pain of ‘holocaust before the
holocaust’ reminisced today

By Lara Kartalian

What if a picture was worth more than a thousand words? What if
a picture, or rather, one half of a picture, was all that linked
you to your past? What if the completion of that image was the only
thing that determined your existence?

While my paternal grandmother was in an orphanage in war-torn
Armenia, it was this – half a picture – which reunited her with
members of her family who were still alive after the genocide.

Each April, people from all around the world commemorate the
1915 genocide of the Armenians. This genocide, known as the
"holocaust before the holocaust," left over 1.5 million Armenians
raped, tortured and massacred by the Ottoman Empire Turks. Pregnant
mothers were found with swords protruding from their bellies, men
were found beaten and dismembered, and women were raped and killed,
or taken as slaves. The elderly were easy targets for their
treachery. They were sent on horrendous death marches and could not
fight with their sickly, dehydrated and starving bodies. Children
were not spared from the torture. Their little bodies were left in
piles on the side of the road or found in bassinets, weeks after
death. After watching their families die, the more "fortunate" of
the children were sent to orphanages. This is where my grandmother,
Varsenik, wound up.

Varsenik’s family consisted of her mother Kohar, father
Nazarette, her two brothers, Stephan and Yeghia, and herself. When
the Turkish soldiers came to Varsenik’s home, they were sent on a
death march. Varsenik, only a toddler, and her family were quickly
ushered from their home, and sent to the treacherous march through
the land that was once their haven of safety.

Along with thousands of others, they watched as many people fell
to their deaths. Children cried for water, yet were satisfied with
the few drops that were found to moisten their lips. Many could not
make the walk and lagged behind the others. These people were not
tolerated by the soldiers and were quickly slain.

The dehydration, mutilation and starvation drove many people out
of their minds. Parents watched as their children were tortured and
felt there was no escape from the reign of terror that had taken
over their lives. While watching her daughter’s poor body
deteriorate, my great-grandmother Kohar wanted to throw Varsenik
into the Yerbud River and let her die peacefully. When hearing this
now, many might wonder how a mother could even consider killing her
child, yet one must consider the circumstances of the time. It was
a time of slaughter – nobody was spared. Kohar was going to kill
Varsenik out of mercy, a way to save her young daughter from rape
and mutilation. However, Varsenik’s eldest brother, Yeghia,
convinced his mother to continue the march with Varsenik. He
promised that he would not allow Varsenik to fall into the
soldiers’ hands and stated that if they were going to die, they
should all die together.

Kohar and her husband Nazarette did not survive the march. Their
three young children were pushed ahead, unable to say their final
farewells. Mourning was forbidden, and those who fell behind the
bunch were punished. Beating the most dire odds, all three children
survived the genocide. They had watched the rest of their family
and other loved ones die, watched children their age wither away
from pain, and yet, they had managed to push their little bodies to
the fullest extent. Varsenik was separated from her brothers and
taken to an orphanage. Yeghia made another promise to his family –
a promise to eventually reunite Varsenik with her brothers. Knowing
that each of the orphanages were packed with thousands of children,
Yeghia decided to differentiate his sister from the others. Yeghia
had kept a single picture of his family. He took this picture, cut
it in half, kept one side, and sewed the other inside Varsenik’s
dress. He then migrated to Alexandria, Egypt, where he began to
develop a new life.

When Yeghia had made enough money, he began sending letters to
the different orphanages of Armenia. He emphasized the half picture
that Varsenik should have had in her possession. His hope of
finding his sister was strong, though he knew his chances were
slim. Miraculously, a Catholic nun who had worked in an orphanage
and taken care of Varsenik heard about Yeghia’s search and
contacted him. She stated that, though the picture was no longer
sewn in Varsenik’s old dress, many had seen it in the young girl’s
hands. Varsenik was soon reunited with her brothers in Egypt, where
she grew, married Ohannes Kartalian and bore three children, one of
whom is my father Parsegh. My grandfather Ohannes had also been
left orphaned by the genocide.

The tragic loss of the 1.5 million Armenians was a devastating
experience for the entire world. The fight to stay alive, keep the
culture and ethnicity from being extinguished and the healing of a
people has been extraordinarily difficult.

Unfortunately, most people have become desensitized in
discussing the genocide. Each day passes with thoughts of the
victims deep in our hearts, but as we proudly tell of our peoples’
survival, we tend to forget the struggle that each single person
faced. There are over 1.5 million other stories just like the one
that I told. Stories of each individual person who suffered in the
hands of the Turks, each individual soul who used their last breath
to pray for those around them, each individual baby’s cry that a
mother heard and each individual father’s promise to save his
family. It has become too easy to listen to the words "1.5
million," and not remember that it was 1.5 million separate people
who were killed in the genocide.

Many might believe that with the end of the genocide, a healing
process finally began for the Armenians. To an extent, this is
true, but unfortunately, the fight surrounding the genocide has yet
to cease. To this day, the Turkish government denies the existence
of the genocide. The government states that all those deaths were a
result of war. They effortlessly shut their eyes to the pictures,
memoirs and documentation that surrounds the genocide, and refute
any opposition. After all the tragedy, we are not even given the
decency of acknowledgement regarding the pain that people suffered.
However, I suppose some ignorance can never be corrected. This
April 24, do not turn away from the commemoration that is taking
place on campus. Allow yourself to become knowledgeable about the
attempted extermination of a race. Do not forget my grandmother’s
story, or the others that you may hear. And if all else fails,
please remember one thing – that at one time, the Turkish
government tried to kill off every living Armenian soul. But most
of all, remember that they failed.