A Week in Proshian

Youth Corps group leader Arek Santikian with one of the Proshian campers on their last day.

BY AREK SANTIKIAN

It is definitely not enough.  One week in Proshian is just too short.  It’s too short for “Jampar” (camp).  It’s too short to understand the value of the village, its people, the fallen heroes that lived there and their families that continue to do so.  Only a mere 15 minutes outside of Yerevan, but a drastically different place. A week is too short, but I’m glad I was able to at least have that.

Where do I begin? I didn’t know much about Proshian’s history before coming here. Nor did I get a chance to ask, as I soon realized its significance during the Artsakh liberation movement and thereafter, is enough history to digest during a short, one-week stay.  Proshian was one of the first villages to send fighters to Artsakh from Armenia during the early 1990s.  It is also home to fallen Artsakh heroes, including Bedros Ghevondyan, Garod Megerdchian, and the recently murdered Hrach Mouradian. It continues to be home for their families, as well as many other freedom fighters, or “azadamardiks.” This reality, in and of itself, makes Proshian a special place. When embarking on this 6-week program, I knew we would meet such individuals and their families, but I didn’t comprehend the effect it would have on me.  We sing songs about their battles and in their memory, but shaking the hand of their brothers and fathers, hugging their children, seeing the house in which they would rest, evoke an emotion that is indescribable, but I will try to nonetheless.  Beautiful. Inspiring. Motivating. Uplifting.

It was an everyday occurrence, as different people would visit Jampar throughout the day. Garod’s brother and father were regular visitors. Bedo’s relatives opened their home to show us some of his belongings, including the hat we see him wearing in almost all of his pictures.  Hrach’s children participated in our Jampar and his son, Kevork, even stayed overnight as “bahag” (guard) one night. Everywhere we’d turn someone was there as proof that their memory and work will continue to live on for generations.

When surrounded by the families of so many fallen heroes in Proshian, I can’t help but also think of those close to me that left far too early and without whom I wouldn’t be a group leader for AYF Youth Corps today.  Every day, either during Jampar or after, I think about Sosé and Allen constantly. It is difficult not to.  During Jampar I am surrounded by the fruit of their hard work and vision. After Jampar, I wish I could ask for their advice on certain decisions.  We conduct each day of Jampar in their ever present and contagious spirit. Their inspiration is present even as I write this blog. I hope they are proud, but I’m sure I can do better.

This year thus far has been difficult for Proshian.  On April 2nd, the mayor of Proshian, Hrach Mouradian, was murdered in broad daylight.  The assassin(s) are still unpunished. I’m not even sure that someone has been arrested. Why?! Why him?! An “azadamardik,” a proven hero, someone that willingly put his life on the line for the betterment of the country, an Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) member, someone that had been elected mayor 3 times, and was a loved and respected individual. Why him?! Why, after 4 months, has no one been punished?! The story reeks of political motives as the election for a new mayor found the Republican Party, the current president’s party, “victorious.” A hero was replaced by a man representing a party of crooks and thugs.  What is most troubling is that there are no witnesses that have come forward, more than likely out of fear, to testify. If these thugs won’t hesitate to murder a mayor, they certainly won’t hesitate to murder any witnesses.

I wish I had the chance to meet Unger (Comrade) Hrach, as I heard he was a frequent visitor of Jampar during the prior two years it was in Proshian.  This year, the third year of Jampar in Proshian, we decided to conduct the one-week camp in his name, to show the village, those responsible for his death, and those responsible for failing to punish the murderers, that the youth today, though separated by thousands of miles, are unified and will always remember Unger Hrach and what he represents. His death will not be in vain, and I can show you 180 kids and counselors who agree.

Children at the AYF Youth Corps' Proshian camp

In Proshian, Jampar started Monday with over 100 kids.  The next day, the number grew to 150, the maximum number we can accept. The next day, even more kids showed up, forcing us to turn them away, undeniably the worst part about being group leader. We even had kids showing up on the second to last day, begging to participate. Nevertheless, we had the fortune to interact with a very special group of kids.  Some stood out more than others. Whether it was through their exceptional singing, or entertaining personality, we embraced the opportunity to meet them all. Moreover, the Jampar was very special for Youth Corps participants because both groups worked together for a week, and they had a great time doing so. The day was full of high energy and excitement, which allowed for productive song practice and competitive games between color groups.  The camp concluded with a memorable song competition, featuring Garod’s nieces singing a song dedicated to their uncle, talented singers displaying their beautiful voices, and a group performance of “Verkerov Li”, dedicated to Unger Hrach. Typically, song competition makes counselors proud of their campers as it reflects the hard work they put into teach the kids songs all week long.  This song competition went a step further, touching all of us, and making the parents and members of the community and beyond, proud of the village’s children.

I can’t conclude my thoughts about Jampar in Proshian without mentioning a vital key to its success, Unger Kevork Parseghian.  At the beginning of the week, he was just the father of my close friend, Berj. At week’s end, he became my Unger.  I didn’t know much about him, and he doesn’t like to talk about himself much, even though he, too, fought in the Artsakh war. He is a genuine “Tashnagtsagan” (Federation member), dedicated to the ideal of humbleness. Despite this, I was able to pick his brain during our various meetings throughout the day or during our drives into Yerevan to buy food for camp. At first he told me I didn’t have to go with him, but I insisted, and I’m glad I did.  I learned a lot from Unger Kevork. I not only heard his stories about battles in Artsakh or the Lebanese civil war (which he also fought in) but also lessons about life, and in particular, Armenian life. He moved to Proshian nine years ago, and has somehow remained calm in the face of many obstacles that have pushed him to the edge of frustration.

Perhaps the most notable memory I will have of him is from one of our drives into Yerevan at 8:30 in the morning. After pointing out all of the things wrong with the current state of Armenia, he told me “Yete hayrenikit mech bidi chi baykaris, baykareluh animasd eh” (“If you are not willing to fight for your country in your country, then your fight has no meaning).” At first I didn’t understand his point, because I don’t think one has to be in Armenia in order to fight for its betterment.  But eventually, I figured out that’s not what he is saying. What he means is that that the country we want Armenia to become will not come into being unless we, and all Armenians alike, create a direct connection to it. And I wholeheartedly agree. We need to visit Armenia and spend time there, in order to understand it. And if we are able to, we must live there, not with the expectation that we are here to fix it, but with the desire to contribute to it. For generations, including those from Unger Kevork’s generation, a free and independent Armenia was just a dream. We now have a country that we can call our own, so it is up to us to unequivocally embrace it.

That conversation had my mind racing throughout the whole week. The needs for Armenia are vast, just like any other country. What this country needs is leadership that genuinely cares for it; leadership that values and invests the country’s beauty and potential. The people are thirsty for work.  Not just work that will pay the bills, but work that will allow the country to grow and become something they can be proud of, something that represents the free and independent Armenia they have envisioned, and in some cases, died for. The current leadership is not that. The current leadership is worried about their personal gain, not that of the country. The current leadership is not working to find the culprits behind the murder of a village mayor, an Artsakh war hero. The current leadership doesn’t care that roads are unpaved or full of potholes; or that water doesn’t run through every village/city 24 hours a day; or that prices for gas, water and electricity have increased by large amounts while wages have stayed the same. But forget about the current leadership! To hell with them! Just because they don’t care, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t. They are not Armenia. They don’t control you and me. The 150 tram revolution showed us the people aren’t scared to voice their concerns any longer. The current leadership’s time will eventually come to an end. It is our duty to continue working until that happens. We have roughly 8 million people living in the diaspora and 3 million living in Armenia.  It is time for our collective 11 million to not just say that we care, but to truly show it.

Visit Armenia, it’s what Bedo, Garod and Hrach died for…and it’s beautiful.

Live in Armenia, it’s what Sosé, Allen and Unger Kevork did…and it’s home.

A Week in Proshyan

BY AREK SANTIKIAN

It is definitely not enough. One week in Proshyan is just too short. It’s too short for “Jampar” (camp). It’s too short to understand the value of the village, its people, the fallen heroes that lived there and their families that continue to do so. Only a mere 15 minutes outside of Yerevan, but a drastically different place. A week is too short, but I’m glad I was able to at least have that.

Where do I begin? I didn’t know much about Proshyan’s history before coming here. Nor did I get a chance to ask, as I soon realized its significance during the Artsakh liberation movement and thereafter, is enough history to digest during a short, one-week stay. Proshyan was one of the first villages to send fighters to Artsakh from Armenia during the early 1990s. It is also home to fallen Artsakh heroes, including Bedros Ghevondyan, Garod Megerdchian, and the recently murdered Hrach Mouradian. It continues to be home for their families, as well as many other freedom fighters, or “azadamardiks.” This reality, in and of itself, makes Proshyan a special place. When embarking on this 6-week program, I knew we would meet such individuals and their families, but I didn’t comprehend the effect it would have on me. We sing songs about their battles and in their memory, but shaking the hand of their brothers and fathers, hugging their children, seeing the house in which they would rest, evoke an emotion that is indescribable, but I will try to nonetheless. Beautiful. Inspiring. Motivating. Uplifting.

It was an everyday occurrence, as different people would visit Jampar throughout the day. Garod’s brother and father were regular visitors. Bedo’s relatives opened their home to show us some of his belongings, including the hat we see him wearing in almost all of his pictures. Hrach’s children participated in our Jampar and his son, Kevork, even stayed overnight as “bahag” (guard) one night. Everywhere we’d turn someone was there as proof that their memory and work will continue to live on for generations.

When surrounded by the families of so many fallen heroes in Proshyan, I can’t help but also think of those close to me that left far too early and without whom I wouldn’t be a group leader for AYF Youth Corps today. Every day, either during Jampar or after, I think about Sosé and Allen constantly. It is difficult not to. During Jampar I am surrounded by the fruit of their hard work and vision. After Jampar, I wish I could ask for their advice on certain decisions. We conduct each day of Jampar in their ever present and contagious spirit. Their inspiration is present even as I write this blog. I hope they are proud, but I’m sure I can do better.

This year thus far has been difficult for Proshyan. On April 2nd, the mayor of Proshyan, Hrach Mouradian, was murdered in broad daylight. The assassin(s) are still unpunished. I’m not even sure that someone has been arrested. Why?! Why him?! An “azadamardik,” a proven hero, someone that willingly put his life on the line for the betterment of the country, an Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) member, someone that had been elected mayor 3 times, and was a loved and respected individual. Why him?! Why, after 4 months, has no one been punished?! The story reeks of political motives as the election for a new mayor found the Republican Party, the current president’s party, “victorious.” A hero was replaced by a man representing a party of crooks and thugs. What is most troubling is that there are no witnesses that have come forward, more than likely out of fear, to testify. If these thugs won’t hesitate to murder a mayor, they certainly won’t hesitate to murder any witnesses.

I wish I had the chance to meet Unger (Comrade) Hrach, as I heard he was a frequent visitor of Jampar during the prior two years it was in Proshyan. This year, the third year of Jampar in Proshyan, we decided to conduct the one-week camp in his name, to show the village, those responsible for his death, and those responsible for failing to punish the murderers, that the youth today, though separated by thousands of miles, are unified and will always remember Unger Hrach and what he represents. His death will not be in vain, and I can show you 180 kids and counselors who agree.

In Proshyan, Jampar started Monday with over 100 kids. The next day, the number grew to 150, the maximum number we can accept. The next day, even more kids showed up, forcing us to turn them away, undeniably the worst part about being group leader. We even had kids showing up on the second to last day, begging to participate. Nevertheless, we had the fortune to interact with a very special group of kids. Some stood out more than others. Whether it was through their exceptional singing, or entertaining personality, we embraced the opportunity to meet them all. Moreover, the Jampar was very special for Youth Corps participants because both groups worked together for a week, and they had a great time doing so. The day was full of high energy and excitement, which allowed for productive song practice and competitive games between color groups. The camp concluded with a memorable song competition, featuring Garod’s nieces singing a song dedicated to their uncle, talented singers displaying their beautiful voices, and a group performance of “Verkerov Li”, dedicated to Unger Hrach. Typically, song competition makes counselors proud of their campers as it reflects the hard work they put into teach the kids songs all week long. This song competition went a step further, touching all of us, and making the parents and members of the community and beyond, proud of the village’s children.

I can’t conclude my thoughts about Jampar in Proshyan without mentioning a vital key to its success, Unger Kevork Parseghian. At the beginning of the week, he was just the father of my close friend, Berj. At week’s end, he became my Unger. I didn’t know much about him, and he doesn’t like to talk about himself much, even though he, too, fought in the Artsakh war. He is a genuine “Tashnagtsagan” (Federation member), dedicated to the ideal of humbleness. Despite this, I was able to pick his brain during our various meetings throughout the day or during our drives into Yerevan to buy food for camp. At first he told me I didn’t have to go with him, but I insisted, and I’m glad I did. I learned a lot from Unger Kevork. I not only heard his stories about battles in Artsakh or the Lebanese civil war (which he also fought in) but also lessons about life, and in particular, Armenian life. He moved to Proshyan nine years ago, and has somehow remained calm in the face of many obstacles that have pushed him to the edge of frustration.

Perhaps the most notable memory I will have of him is from one of our drives into Yerevan at 8:30 in the morning. After pointing out all of the things wrong with the current state of Armenia, he told me “Yete hayrenikit mech bidi chi baykaris, baykareluh animasd eh” (“If you are not willing to fight for your country in your country, then your fight has no meaning).” At first I didn’t understand his point, because I don’t think one has to be in Armenia in order to fight for its betterment. But eventually, I figured out that’s not what he is saying. What he means is that that the country we want Armenia to become will not come into being unless we, and all Armenians alike, create a direct connection to it. And I wholeheartedly agree. We need to visit Armenia and spend time there, in order to understand it. And if we are able to, we must live there, not with the expectation that we are here to fix it, but with the desire to contribute to it. For generations, including those from Unger Kevork’s generation, a free and independent Armenia was just a dream. We now have a country that we can call our own, so it is up to us to unequivocally embrace it.

That conversation had my mind racing throughout the whole week. The needs for Armenia are vast, just like any other country. What this country needs is leadership that genuinely cares for it; leadership that values and invests the country’s beauty and potential. The people are thirsty for work. Not just work that will pay the bills, but work that will allow the country to grow and become something they can be proud of, something that represents the free and independent Armenia they have envisioned, and in some cases, died for. The current leadership is not that. The current leadership is worried about their personal gain, not that of the country. The current leadership is not working to find the culprits behind the murder of a village mayor, an Artsakh war hero. The current leadership doesn’t care that roads are unpaved or full of potholes; or that water doesn’t run through every village/city 24 hours a day; or that prices for gas, water and electricity have increased by large amounts while wages have stayed the same. But forget about the current leadership! To hell with them! Just because they don’t care, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t. They are not Armenia. They don’t control you and me. The 150 tram revolution showed us the people aren’t scared to voice their concerns any longer. The current leadership’s time will eventually come to an end. It is our duty to continue working until that happens. We have roughly 8 million people living in the diaspora and 3 million living in Armenia. It is time for our collective 11 million to not just say that we care, but to truly show it.

Visit Armenia, it’s what Bedo, Garod and Hrach died for…and it’s beautiful.

Live in Armenia, it’s what Sosé, Allen and Unger Kevork did…and it’s home.

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One Comment;

  1. Raffi said:

    Hi Arek,

    Very well written blog. It definitely captures the feeling of Proshian. I moved to Armenia 2.5 years ago from Canada, and its the best decision I’ve ever made. I was there at Unger Hratches funeral, as were upwards of 5000 people, and it was a surreal moment. We spent the evening with many of his Ungers who fought alongside him, and it was quite emotional. Even that night though, the fighting spirit was present. We must do all we can to fix this country…we have a small peice of land left, and it’s up to us to make it right.
    I commend you and your friends for coming to Armenia and doing your part, especially in Proshian. It is with these acts that Unger Hratches memory will love on. Keep up the good work. Vartsket gadar

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