Dressed for Death

YEREVAN (A.W.)—On June 30, several hundred people participated in a candlelight vigil held at the Harsnakar restaurant in Avan, Armenia, where three military doctors were beaten on June 17. One of the doctors, Major Vahe Avetyan, died on June 29 from severe head trauma.

Photo by Anush Khachatryan

The demonstration was organized by a group calling itself the “Self-Determined Citizens of the Republic of Armenia.”

The demonstrators began the vigil on a sidewalk near the restaurant, holding lit candles and posters thatread “I am Vahe Avetyan” and “You can’t get away with it.”

Some attempted to approach the restaurant and place candles in the parkinglot, but were initially blocked by police. One of the organizers then convinced the police to let a stream of people slowly approach the lot.

Harsnakar is a grand-scale restaurant and function hall owned by Member of Parliament Ruben “Nemets Rubo” Hayrapetyan, a known oligarch. It is where the wealthy hold extravagant wedding parties. Hayrapetyan owns numerous business ventures, among them the Bjni mineral water company (which bottles Bjni and Noy), a hotel also called Harsnakar on Lake Sevan, and a bank. He is also the president of Armenia’s Football Federation.

Although Hayrapedyan maintains he had no connection with the beating, his personal bodyguard, Garik Markaryan, allegedly inflicted the fatal injuries on Avetyan.

The demonstration was peaceful, with people speaking to each other quietly and lighting candles, while others wept and prayed. Anahit Bakhshyan of the Heritage Party was visibly distraught when talking to Civilnet.am.

“I am really tired of this lack of accountability,” she said. “I am disgusted by this situation but…at this moment, I can’t find the words. I can’t find the way out, but I know this can’t happen. I know we have to do something, and if there’s someone who knows what to do I’ll stand by him. But right now, I feel empty.”

Armen Rustamian representing the ARF-Dashnaktsutyun also joined the demonstrators.

Rustamian (Photos by Anush Khachatryan)

“The upper echelons of the leadership must teach a lesson and certainly reiterate what is demanded by law—that an obvious murder took place in public sight,” Rustamian said. “If that is not explained, brought to light and condemned…they will have to do something so that [the issue] doesn’t become complicated.”

A few young people were able to approach the restaurant without gaining notice, and wrote words in red spray paint on the walls, such as “House of murder,” and the word “oligarchs” crossed out.

When the protesters realized that a wedding party was going on inside the restaurant, they approached the main entrance, which was guarded by law enforcement officers, including high-ranking members of the police department. When the police did not let the protesters enter the restaurant, they began to chant “Shame, shame,” chastising them for what was perceived as an act of protecting the oligarchic establishment. They also chanted the familiar slogan of the opposition—“Sergik go away”—referring to President Serge Sarkisian. The police responded by forming a human chain in front of the entrance and shoving the protesters away from the entrance.  Some of the people from the wedding party began to approach the entrance, which enraged the protesters even more.

The demonstration ended just after 10 p.m. and similar protests continued Sunday in front of the Presidential Palace and the prosecutor general’s office. A memorial service was held for Avetyan on Monday afternoon.

‘I am Vahe Avetyan’ (Photo by Anush Khachatryan)

That same evening, only a few hours after demonstrators left the scene, Vartan Samvelyan, a lieutenant colonel in the Armenian military, entered Harsnakar with the intention of blowing up the restaurant with explosives he was carrying, as reported by Tert.am.  He was arrested shortly thereafter by the police and is under custody.

Exactly what happened on June 17 between the quarrelers remains unclear. Words were exchanged at two separate times between the servicemen and staff over an apparent dress code violation, the second conflict occurring after Avetyan returned to the premises, having gone home to change out of his athletic clothing. Just why Markaryan felt obligated to severely beat Avetyan has yet to be revealed. Accounts from eyewitnesses have yet to come to light, probably due to fear of retaliation against them.

President Sarkisian was expected by many to publically convey his condolences to the Avetyan family. Ironically, on Monday the Armenian press published photos showing the president sitting side by side with Hayrapetyan at the Euro Cup soccer championship game held July 1.

source: http://www.armenianweekly.com/2012/07/02/dressed-for-death-demonstrators-remember-beating-victim-vahe-avetyan/

HAPPY CANADA DAY! – Armenians in Canada

Armenians began immigrating to Canada from the Ottoman Empire in the 1880s as, initially, a trickle of students and entrepreneurs. About two thousand Armenians settled in Canada before 1914 in southern Ontario; around thirteen hundred survivors of the Genocide arrived as refugees during the 1920s and settled mainly in the Georgetown area. Thousands of Armenians emigrated from the Middle East in the 1950s, and thousands more found refuge from the Soviet Union in the 1980s. 10 years ago a new type of immigrant was attracted to the Canadian Arctic. The cold capital of the Northwest Territories, Yellowknife, promised ready employment for the over fifty Armenian master diamond cutters; though, unfortunately, none of those tradesmen are currently employed in that sector.

Before 1914, Armenians who had migrated to Canada in search of employment and fresh opportunities clustered within the St. Catherine’s, Hamilton and Brantford areas, turning single family dwellings into collective boarding houses. Changes in employment meant a shift in the population, dispersing the large settlement of Hamilton and making St. Catherine’s the largest Armenian populated city by the early 1920s, with over five hundred residents. Vernon’s City Directory for St Catherine’s in 1930 documents that, of the fifty-eight men mentioned in the Armenian quarter, forty-two owned homes, four owned farms, and only twelve, mainly newcomers, rented accommodations. These individuals were known as hardworking exemplary Canadian citizens.

According to Canadian government records, “most Armenians in Toronto settled in three areas. The business elite – a small group of well-off, well-educated, and cosmopolitan families, including the Babayans, Courians, and Utujians, and, after the war, the Papazians – originally from Constantinople and its environs, resided in elegant homes in Toronto’s north end. Another group, mainly farm workers from Anatolia, worked in west-end factories and occupied humble homes in the Junction area of west Toronto. The third group – mainly refugees, who formed a budding entrepreneurial class – resided in downtown central and eastern Toronto.” Montreal followed a similar pattern of Armenian settlement. Before 1914, there were few in the area, working in the Locomotive and Steel Company of Canada. However, as refugees from the genocide made it over to the city, Park Avenue became the center of Armenian development.

In the 1981 Canadian census, “the largest single group among those giving Armenian as their ethnic origin was born in Canada (19.7 percent); of the remainder, 19.3 percent were born in Turkey (including past and recent immigration), 16.8 percent in Lebanon, and 15.3 percent in Egypt.” Armenians now consisted of a large immigrant community that could offer services, networks and employment to newcomers.  The 1991 Canadian census showed a tilt in favour of Quebec for Armenian settlement, increasing the numbers especially in the city of Montreal. Post World War II saw Calgary, Cambridge, Edmonton, Hamilton, Montreal, Ottawa, St Catherine’s, Toronto, Windsor, and Vancouver settled by Armenian immigrants.

Canada has been a safe haven, an avenue for opportunity, and a second homeland for many. From “Canada’s Noble Project” that saved the lives of 110 Armenian orphans in 1923, presented to the public in The Toronto Globe with emotionally charged headlines such as “Shall We Let Them Die?” and such others, to recognition of the genocide, the country has a history of supporting this particular minority, winning the hearts of its community.

The Legend of Watermelon

The Servants of the ancient King Gagik noticed a mysterious horned snake by the palace. The king’s servants cut the snake’s horns and thus saved it. In gratitude, the next day the snake brought a seed and left it by the palace. Soon, a strange big fruit grew from the seed. The servants decided to test the unknown fruit and offered it to an old man on the verge of death. A miracle occurred and the old man not only recovered, but felt stronger than he ever had. The king tried the  natural medicine next and found that he, too, felt quite fortified. Since that day, Armenians call the gift from the grateful snake “Not-Die” or “Chmerook” in their language, though with the passage of time the “ch” became a “ts” or “dz”. Thus, the watermelon is called a tsmeroug or dzmerook.

A Heart that Yearns for Home

Our people seem to have had a nomadic, adventurous streak from early on, weaving their way into many nations and embedding their roots where business could thrive. We like novelty, culture, food and winning, no matter what the prize. Unfortunately for those who would have kept close to their family hearths despite this curious streak to find a new El Dorado somewhere` somehow, they too would be forced to abandon all they held dear to start anew in strange worlds, among strange people bearing customs entirely foreign to our traditions. It’s a wonder how we persevered and held onto what few scraps we had salvaged of our former lives in a death grip, allowing every step we took to become a blossom in a newly ploughed field. Yet, no matter how far the wayward child runs, his heart will always yearn for the mother’s bosom, the hearth that once kept him warm and secure.

I’m often faced with puzzled glances and incredulous stares when I mention my desire to return to a home my family left nearly a century ago. Furthermore, the questions bore into me in wonder as to why I would want to live in a place most wish to escape from, a land haunted by its past and systematically torn apart in the present. Who would want to move to a nation run by an oligarchy, drowning in poverty, where a lifestyle akin to that which I have become used to might never again exist? What do I see in this Armenia so many speak of, yet few consider home anymore?

Armenia is like an adolescent child. She requires strict attention but also room to breathe to become her own person. She is in a perpetual state of confusion, torn between Mother Russia and Father Europe. She also bears a special love for Uncle America. Yet, with her parents so different, living separate from one another, Armenia feels she must live up to both their standards. She often forgets her childhood state where she could easily express her unique characteristics. If she leans more towards one parent, she inflames the anger of the other. America being a relation to Europe does not ease her confusion in the least, further throwing her off balance. She has forgotten much of her childhood language and opts to using that of either or both parents. She’s becoming particularly adept at utilizing Uncle America’s, replacing her own unique one bit by bit.

Armenia’s adolescent state sometimes means a temper tantrum. She seems to find it the norm for a husband to beat his wife, for a husband to cheat on his wife, for a man to chase skirts but expect women to remain chaste and pure. She has little sympathy for the poor, has a quick hand in theft and a clever mind rarely used for anyone’s good. She smokes like a chimney, drinks her sorrows away and complains about the holes in her pockets due to her penniless state. Armenia is beautiful, not needing any artifice to cover her non-existent physical blemishes. Her problem lies beneath, perhaps at her very core. Where once she encouraged those wearing tracksuits, today she beats them. Where once she voted women into power, today she scoffs at them. She bows her head to everyone, but bullies that which belongs to her. She’s pitiful, to tell the truth, and requires a steady hand to guide her to adulthood. She requires love, patience and diligent care. She will thrive if allowed to, if those with authority in her life stop using her for their own gains. Every adolescent will grow up one day and Armenia is no different. The only questions is, how long will it take?

In the end, why shouldn’t I move back home, to the nation struggling to grow into adulthood and discovering for herself how special she is? Why shouldn’t I be one of those diligently patient hands slowly but surely leading her onto the right path? Someone must take the responsibility to steer her there and make sure she follows through. As an Armenian from the diaspora, can you not also feel her calling you home?