Copyright by Ann Bandazian 2007,2008,2009

My father's name was Hahroutune which means resurrection. He was realistic and humorous about religion. There were times when he was disappointed by the greed of his fellow man. He loved music--classical and folk, fine art and did, in fact, produce oil paintings. Both he and my mother knew and treasured the classics in literature. When the distant sound of Turkish fury became heard, my paternal grandfather, Hahgop (Jakop), called my father to him and said, "Son, take these gold pieces and get to America the best way you can." My father, with one of his comrades began their escape. His trip to America took two and a half years. He was often hungry, weary, thrilled, excited, hopeful, and sick. He stayed in Cyprus and Marseilles, France. In America he sought out fellow Armenians and work. He traveled to the wonderful industrial cities of Eastern United States where he found factory work. When he was old enough, he joined the U.S. Army. He was to the end of his life a passionate citizen of America.

Who were the Armenian people who had incurred the wrath of Turkey? Their history dates to the time of the Babylonians--or before. Measured in size with some of the countries of today, Armenia is a small country. Incredibly at one time they enjoyed an empire. Unfortunately, because of Armenia's situation on the Silk Route, it was traveled through again and again-- each time it's people trampled upon. Armenians found themselves surrounded by non-Christian peoples and were subject to the domination of Persian, Turkic and other peoples. My people were taxed heavily, forced into military service, the females, kidnapped, and raped-- the males sodomized. Both males and females were kept as slaves or put into the military. All this was according to their Turkish master's whim. Their children were never seen again.


As word filtered to Armenia of revolutions by the underclass in other countries, some Armenian men and sometimes, womenfolk, began talking of revolution. Word also filtered to the Turkish government. Having enjoyed the spoils of Empire for years, many Turks were now impoverished and some say lazy thieves. Angry suspicions of the ruling Turks flamed into unchecked hatred.

Most of this information was given to me by Hahgop and Shoushan's granddaughter, Shoushig (little Shoushan) Boyajian. A brother,Hahgop tragically died many years earlier. Shoushig lives in Toronto, Canada with her sister, Hahsmig. Both women speak five languages: Armenian, Turkish, Arabic, French and English. Without a doubt there was exceptional intelligence and creativity in my father's family.

It should be noted that prior to 1915 there had been sporadic massacres of Armenians. But now a monstrous beast was let loose upon my people--the Armenians who now lived in greater Armenia occupied by Turkey-- in the shadow of their beloved Mt. Ararat. With the formation of the Young Turks party, the decree came from Sultan Abdulhamid and others of Turkey's power elite to eliminate Armenians from these lands.

The Boyajian family had a cow which gave abundant gallons of milk. The remaining terrified widow and her three children awaited the worst. Their neighbor, a friendly Turkish woman--and there were here and there a friend--said to grandmother Shoushan, "If you give me your prize cow, I will help you escape the death march." Without hesitation, Grandmother Shoushan agreed and gave her their prize cow. The neighbor further suggested, "If you tell the chiefs that you aren't Armenian, but Assyrian like your cousin, you might be spared." Grandmother Shoushan, desperate to save her children, told the officials they weren't Armenian. All members of the family already spoke Turkish as did most everyone in the country. Then they all took the "Oath of Islam." Her fear that the children might slip and speak Armenian was always present. They were given Turkish names like Ibraham, Zekie, and Haqui. It was well knnown that boys of twenty were conscripted into into the Turkish Army. To escape conscription, the birth of boy babies weren't registered until they were five years old. Before reaching eighteen, time was gained to find ways of escaping the heinous plans of the Turks. Shoushan's boys were now beginning their teens. A kind cousin who owned a large vehicle drove the family to Aleppo, Syria and safety.

Besides baking bread for the Turkish Army for many years, Khazar also provided bread for the orphange. From his and Ghanum's mrriage there were four daughters and a son. The eldest daughter was named Rebecca, my mother, who was agreed to be the most intelligent of the sisters. She was a stern perfectonist, creative and resourceful. She was sometimes depressed by the events of the past and the difficulty of the road ahead out from poverty. Besides the welfare of her children, her secondary vow was to help bring her family to America. In later years Rebecca began oil painting. Here, surprisingly her spirit sailed forth. Her paintings were different from the more structured paintings of her husband. After Rebecca, there was Perooz, Elize and Astghig. Rarely and whenever the sisters came together there would bubble forth hilarious laughter--more than likely brought on by an imitation of someone or humorous story by Elize. The last born was a son named Antranig. There also were two very young children from Khazar's first marriage, a boy, Hovsep and a daughter, Tehriz. These children were orphaned by the early death of their mother. Into this household there also came two orphan girls-- cousins, Aghavnee and Berjouhe

Now, sixty-six years later, I was preoccupied with the seeming dramas of my life and barely paid attention when my mother said, "We were saved from the chahrt, (slaughter with knives and axes) because your grandfather's bakery supplied bread for the Turkish Army." I quickly dismissed her statement saying, "That was lucky," and gave no other thought to the statement. My mother dropped into one of her dark silences.

The once powerful Turkish Empire began its gradual decline in 157l. In 1911, Turkey, "the sick old man of Europe", encouraged the Kurds to massacre thousands of Armenians who were demonized by the Turks. Their German ally couldn't prevent Turkey's empire from slipping away. My mother recalled, "The German soldiers stood by the fence. They were very handsome. I even learned a few words in German" In 1910 the the Young Turks party was formed. Their reckless attempt to over-centralize their failing empire succeeded in causing uprisings in the Albanian and Arab provinces. The Young Turks in a pretense of unifying the people of the empire and eliminating a hostile element, determined to rid Armenia of its population by "deportation"-- a hideously benign word for what actually happened. The architects of the planned extermination of the Armenian people were Talaat Pasha, Jamil Pasha, and Enver Pasha. Besides the million and a half souls who perished by murder or starvation, a million Armenians fled the genocide to foreign countries all over the globe. Besides the incalculable loss of human life, the murderers reaped $14,000,000 in stolen assets. Did anyone calculate the interest accrued on the fourteen million dollars to the present day?

Teachers, professors, doctors etc. were captured and with the words, "So you are the intellect of the people," had their heads placed in vises until they burst. Torture in its most horrendous form. When the neighoring Turkish families complained of the screams that were disurbing their sleep, musicians were hired to play at night to covers the sound of screams.

Gradually over a period of time, I learned our story from my mother. "First the men in the village-- the intellectuals, the priests, and the politicians-- were rounded up, taken away, tortured, murdered or shot. Boys of military age were taken into the army."

From my Aunt Perooz, I learned that from the age of eleven my mother was dressed as a boy to protect her from advances of lecherous Turks. Being dressed as a boy. was something my mother never mentioned to me.

The two children left Khazar from his first marriage, Hovsep and Tehriz, were very young when their mother died. They urgently needed a mother's care. A marriage was arranged between Khazar, known as Khazar Agha, and my grandmother, Ghanum. At this time, my grandmother was very young and shy. To the day of her wedding she had never seen my grandfather. During the marriage ceremony, Ghanum's face was covered with a veil. When the veil was lifted, she looked up and saw a very tall man wearing a fez which made him seem even taller--a giant. Utterly shocked--she fainted dead away. The wedding guests cried, "The bride has died!--the bride has died-" More composed family members revived my grandmother with cold water and the ceremony was completed. Without complaint Ghanum became mother to Tehriz and Hovsep.

In 1913 or 1914 word reached Ghanum that homes were being seached for writings that might be revolutionary tracts or other incendiary writings. First grandmoher burned all the books and pamphlets which might be interpreted as being inflammatory. Finally, there was the diary my mother had been keeping since she was eight. Grandmother said, "Rebecca, we have to burn your diary. The Turks might think it's a revoltuionary book-" Serious and mature for her age my mother understood. Sadly she gave her diary to her mother. Mother and daughter stood and watched as her diary burned to ashes.

When it came time for Uncle Hovsep's college education, he was sent to school in Constantinople. Cousin Mary Melikian says her mother, Tehriz, was admired for her pale skin and rosey cheeks. Khazar and Ghanum became anxious that Tehriz might be kidnaped by the Turks who treasured pale skin and rosey cheeks. Hovsep suggested that she be sent to join him in populous Constantinople. Khazar and Ghanum agreed with the proviso that Hovsep find a suitable husband for Tehriz--one who was already an American citizen. A gifted and handsome husband, Khazar Melikian, was suggested by relatives. It was agreed by all and arranged that Tehriz marry Khazar Melikian. Tehriz was soon married and safely living in America. Khazar and Tehriz had but one daughter-- beautiful Mary, who was their joy and jewel.

Because Uncle Hovsep was working for a shipping company, the Bolsheviks believed he was a member of an aristocratic family. He was put in prison. The irony is that Hovsep was sympathetic to the Socialist ideology. He wAs released after many pleadings and bribes.

Young Armenian men inspired by the freedom and justice seeking revolutionaries in France began a secret society named, The Armenian Revoluionary Federation. Word leaked to officials of the Turkish government who needed no more reason for a full-fledged genocide of the Armenian people. My father, Hahroutune, now safely escaped and living in America became a member. He was to the end of his life a truth speaking, freedom loving, passionate member of the A.R.F.--which was committed to a free and independent Armenia.

At this point, I surmise that the military had long since taken over grandfather's bakery. Their handsome house was occupied by the General and his soldiers.

Barbara Carlson, a reporter for the Hartford Courant, interviewed my mother in 1989--in an excellent magazine piece titled, "The Children of Armenia." In the interview, Carlson quoted my mother's story that the family was herded out of the house into a courtyard. They were given bread and some bulghur wheat. In a small building that had been used as a wash house, they built an open pit in which they cooked their meagre meal of bulghur soup. All shared the soup. The adults worried that the children were losing weight and prone to illness.

Aunt Astghig, who was one year of age in this year of 1915, only knew some of the story--obviously what she had been told.

She said, "The missionaries saved us."

"How?" I wondered.

She didn't answer but went on, "We went in covered wagons."

Amazed, I said, "Aunt Astghig, you mean like we see in our Western movies?"

"Yes, that's right. We sewed jewelry into the children's clothing."

Aunt Astghig sighed, "Those were terrible times. I don't like to talk about it-" And went silent.

Important questions were never asked or answered.

I continue to wonder exactly how the missionaries saved them. How much money was paid as bribes to secure a covered wagon--or wagons etc.

Cousin Haig Casparian offered, "Remember that the Germans and Turks were allies at this time and the German Lutherans had an orphanage. Maybe the Turks were forced to be leniant because our family was Protestant." Or, perhaps, it was conceivable that since Kharpairt, Armenia and was at the extreme Western part of the Turkish occupation, the local mullahs could be bribed for mercy. Or, perhaps it took a while before the harsh words for immediate extermination of the Armenians was delivered, felt and obeyed.

My Great grandmother, Great grandfather, an aunt and her five children were gone. A child's most important, wise, comforting, loving relatives were gone. I never saw or knew a single grandparent--

Some survivors told of prisoners who were released from prison to perform the murders and rapes. Kurds were told to kill Armemnians who were villified by the Turks. Some Kurds obeyed. Very young Armenian boys-- too young for the Army were taken to work on the roads. They were soon killed.

Sometimes I permitted myself dramatic wonderings: As they traveled their bumpy way in the desert, how did they deal with the sight of old people whose feet were bleeding- small children with bellies swollen from starvation- Was death by starvation worse than outright slaughter? what if a mother extended her baby to my grandfather saying, "Please, Khazar Agha, take my son. I'll walk." Then she doubtless wept, "For the love of God, have mercy-- save my litle boy-" How did my grandfather answer? "Madam, my wagon is over-loaded with my family and two relatives who are orphans. It breaks my heart to refuse. If I take your baby--others will rightly demand that I take their children or elderly relatives."

The nightmare horrors went on. The slaughters, rapes, starvation and drownings-- Young brides threw themselves into the Euphrates rather than being raped by Turks. Other very young girls were raped repeatedly until death silenced their cries.

What guilt--self examination--and rationization did surviving families suffer? Horrible nightmares were burned into their brains forever. Was there a curse for having survived while others perished?