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UNLUCKIEST VILLAGE IN ARMENIA
By Lana Mshetsian and Tigran Mirzoyan in Vanand
Institute for War and Peace Reporting
Dec 22 2004
Surviving in 21st century Armenia's "Stone Age" village.
The New Year will not be a cheerful one in Vanand. Outside it may be
the 21st century, but the villagers will be celebrating the arrival of
2005 as they have done for centuries - in the dark without electricity,
gas or running water.
Vanand is located in the Armavir district of western Armenia right
on the border with Turkey. It has a population of 500, with the same
number having left over the past decade, mainly for Russia.
Like nowhere else, this place feels the impact of the seasons, being
very hot in summer and bitterly cold in winter. In cold weather they
use whatever comes to hand to heat their houses, mainly timber and
dry dung.
Winter can be easier than summer. Karine Hakopian, a mother of three,
said, "Maybe nature will take pity on us and we will get a snowy
winter. Then we can melt the snow and there will be water for us and
our animals."
Drinking water is worth more than gold here. Ohanes Margarian, a
40-year-old villager, told IWPR that water is brought into the village
once or twice a week in churns. "We can't even drink an extra cup of
coffee, let alone have a hot meal," he said. "Because of lack of water
we often have to eat dried food. I believe that the local authorities
are to blame that we live in such primitive conditions. They couldn't
care less about us. This is a border village and they can't be bothered
with it."
That makes the hot season especially hard. Javan Manukian, the head of
the community, said that last summer they had been given irrigation
water on just three occasions, even though temperatures at that time
of year in the Ararat valley, where Vanand is located, can rise to
50 degrees centigrade.
When the villagers asked the local authorities for help, they were
told they had to pay for the water. "And where can people get money
from?" Manukian asked. "There's no work and no harvest. Take a look
yourself, all the trees in the peasants' plots have withered. The
peaches, apples and grapes have gone because of the lack of water.
"We have only just managed to collect a meagre vegetable harvest and
that's hardly enough to feed our own families. The villagers have no
strength left. Ten children have died in the village from intestinal
infections caused by bad sanitation."
Health care costs money and the locals often resort to traditional
medicine to cope with ailments. Narine Sukiasian, a mother of two,
said, "Only the names are left of our clinic and chemist. No one minds
having a cold, but if you get a serious illness, especially if a child
falls ill, we have to go to the regional town for medicine and help."
"We believe no one," said farmer Petros Khachatrian. "Officials love to
give promises and write programmes, but when it comes to carrying them
out, unexpected problems crop up and everything stays just the same."
In 2003, the Armenian government adopted a programme on improving the
socio-economic condition of border villages with plans to provide them
with gas and water. Parandzem Karapetian, head of administration in
the Armavir mayor's office, said, "We do what we can but our capacities
are limited."
Meri Harutiunian, head of the Armenian government's press office, said
that Vanand was on a list of border villages which were entitled to
government investment in a special programme due to begin next year.
But details of the plan are still sketchy.
The villagers say they have never had gas, but before independence in
1991 they at least did not have the mass unemployment they have now.
The bread factory worked properly and there were farms that employed
local people. Nowadays the bread factory works at five per cent of
its capacity and the farms are just memories.
A gas supply is just a distant dream. Shushan Sardarian, press
secretary of the gas company ArmRosgazprom, told IWPR, "Today we
are laying gas pipes in the towns and big villages of Armenia. Only
when that is completed can we begin to talk about gas supplies for
outlying villages."
Karine Hakopian's two school-age children, Arevik and Araik, go to
school ten kilometres away in the next village of Artamet on foot. If
the road is blocked by snow, they do not make it to school at all.
And even when they get there, it is hard to call it a school at
all. It is a collection of railway carriages, each holding a class,
some with as little as two pupils.
Some children in Vanand and Artamet do not go to school at all because
their parents can't afford to clothe them. "My son hasn't been going
to school since September," said Ripsime Danielian. "My husband
recently went to work in Russia and he can't help us at the moment.
And the boy is ashamed of going in old clothes. Never mind, he can
help me round the house for the time being and next year if things
get better in our family he can start his studies again."
The Danielian family is, like most households in this village,
headed by the mother because the father is away in Russia, sending
home occasional remittances.
They get electricity once a day and sometimes less than that. "We're
used to it," said Ripsime. "We use wood-burning stoves. Though wood
costs money too, it's hard for us to get it. Some people get help from
relatives, others get by somehow. We pass the long winter evenings by
kerosene lamps. It's not so bad for us adults but I feel sorry for
the children who have to live in the dark. I don't know who should
answer for the way we live in the Stone Age."
Despite all the hardships of living in Vanand, IWPR found that people
are still planning to stay here. "Those who wanted to leave have
already done so. As for me, I'm not going anywhere," said Seiran
Muradian.
"A few times people have given my family the chance to move to the
town and offered them help with moving and finding a flat. But I
can't leave the land where my ancestors are buried. And after all our
village is right on the border with Turkey. It's like a wall and we
are the defenders of our country."
"Our young men went off to war from here," said a young woman named
Srbui. "Many of them didn't come back. We put up memorials to them.
We are poor but at least the cemetery is well looked after. I love
my village and my neighbours and I hope that life will sort itself
out here. There ought to be a party one day on our street too."
Lana Mshetsian and Tigran Mirzoyan are freelance journalists in
Armenia.
By Lana Mshetsian and Tigran Mirzoyan in Vanand
Institute for War and Peace Reporting
Dec 22 2004
Surviving in 21st century Armenia's "Stone Age" village.
The New Year will not be a cheerful one in Vanand. Outside it may be
the 21st century, but the villagers will be celebrating the arrival of
2005 as they have done for centuries - in the dark without electricity,
gas or running water.
Vanand is located in the Armavir district of western Armenia right
on the border with Turkey. It has a population of 500, with the same
number having left over the past decade, mainly for Russia.
Like nowhere else, this place feels the impact of the seasons, being
very hot in summer and bitterly cold in winter. In cold weather they
use whatever comes to hand to heat their houses, mainly timber and
dry dung.
Winter can be easier than summer. Karine Hakopian, a mother of three,
said, "Maybe nature will take pity on us and we will get a snowy
winter. Then we can melt the snow and there will be water for us and
our animals."
Drinking water is worth more than gold here. Ohanes Margarian, a
40-year-old villager, told IWPR that water is brought into the village
once or twice a week in churns. "We can't even drink an extra cup of
coffee, let alone have a hot meal," he said. "Because of lack of water
we often have to eat dried food. I believe that the local authorities
are to blame that we live in such primitive conditions. They couldn't
care less about us. This is a border village and they can't be bothered
with it."
That makes the hot season especially hard. Javan Manukian, the head of
the community, said that last summer they had been given irrigation
water on just three occasions, even though temperatures at that time
of year in the Ararat valley, where Vanand is located, can rise to
50 degrees centigrade.
When the villagers asked the local authorities for help, they were
told they had to pay for the water. "And where can people get money
from?" Manukian asked. "There's no work and no harvest. Take a look
yourself, all the trees in the peasants' plots have withered. The
peaches, apples and grapes have gone because of the lack of water.
"We have only just managed to collect a meagre vegetable harvest and
that's hardly enough to feed our own families. The villagers have no
strength left. Ten children have died in the village from intestinal
infections caused by bad sanitation."
Health care costs money and the locals often resort to traditional
medicine to cope with ailments. Narine Sukiasian, a mother of two,
said, "Only the names are left of our clinic and chemist. No one minds
having a cold, but if you get a serious illness, especially if a child
falls ill, we have to go to the regional town for medicine and help."
"We believe no one," said farmer Petros Khachatrian. "Officials love to
give promises and write programmes, but when it comes to carrying them
out, unexpected problems crop up and everything stays just the same."
In 2003, the Armenian government adopted a programme on improving the
socio-economic condition of border villages with plans to provide them
with gas and water. Parandzem Karapetian, head of administration in
the Armavir mayor's office, said, "We do what we can but our capacities
are limited."
Meri Harutiunian, head of the Armenian government's press office, said
that Vanand was on a list of border villages which were entitled to
government investment in a special programme due to begin next year.
But details of the plan are still sketchy.
The villagers say they have never had gas, but before independence in
1991 they at least did not have the mass unemployment they have now.
The bread factory worked properly and there were farms that employed
local people. Nowadays the bread factory works at five per cent of
its capacity and the farms are just memories.
A gas supply is just a distant dream. Shushan Sardarian, press
secretary of the gas company ArmRosgazprom, told IWPR, "Today we
are laying gas pipes in the towns and big villages of Armenia. Only
when that is completed can we begin to talk about gas supplies for
outlying villages."
Karine Hakopian's two school-age children, Arevik and Araik, go to
school ten kilometres away in the next village of Artamet on foot. If
the road is blocked by snow, they do not make it to school at all.
And even when they get there, it is hard to call it a school at
all. It is a collection of railway carriages, each holding a class,
some with as little as two pupils.
Some children in Vanand and Artamet do not go to school at all because
their parents can't afford to clothe them. "My son hasn't been going
to school since September," said Ripsime Danielian. "My husband
recently went to work in Russia and he can't help us at the moment.
And the boy is ashamed of going in old clothes. Never mind, he can
help me round the house for the time being and next year if things
get better in our family he can start his studies again."
The Danielian family is, like most households in this village,
headed by the mother because the father is away in Russia, sending
home occasional remittances.
They get electricity once a day and sometimes less than that. "We're
used to it," said Ripsime. "We use wood-burning stoves. Though wood
costs money too, it's hard for us to get it. Some people get help from
relatives, others get by somehow. We pass the long winter evenings by
kerosene lamps. It's not so bad for us adults but I feel sorry for
the children who have to live in the dark. I don't know who should
answer for the way we live in the Stone Age."
Despite all the hardships of living in Vanand, IWPR found that people
are still planning to stay here. "Those who wanted to leave have
already done so. As for me, I'm not going anywhere," said Seiran
Muradian.
"A few times people have given my family the chance to move to the
town and offered them help with moving and finding a flat. But I
can't leave the land where my ancestors are buried. And after all our
village is right on the border with Turkey. It's like a wall and we
are the defenders of our country."
"Our young men went off to war from here," said a young woman named
Srbui. "Many of them didn't come back. We put up memorials to them.
We are poor but at least the cemetery is well looked after. I love
my village and my neighbours and I hope that life will sort itself
out here. There ought to be a party one day on our street too."
Lana Mshetsian and Tigran Mirzoyan are freelance journalists in
Armenia.