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MENESHIAN: HEAR THE FOOTSTEPS OF A ROSE-FLOODED DAWN
Knarik Meneshian
http://www.armenianweekly.com/2010/08/03/meneshian-hear-the-footsteps-of-a-rose-flooded-dawn/
Aug 3 2010
In June and July 2010, Weekly editor Khatchig Mouradian presented a
lecture titled "The Sound of Footsteps: Commemorating the Armenian
Genocide in Turkey" in several cities and towns in Massachusetts,
Illinois, California, Michigan, Rhode Island, and New Jersey. The
article below, by Knarik O. Meneshian, is based on her impressions
from the lecture held in Glenview, Ill.
"In Turkey you don't have to look for the Genocide, it's right
there-everywhere-staring you in the face..." When Khatchig
Mouradian, editor of the Armenian Weekly, spoke these words at
his recent lecture and slideshow presentation titled "The Sound
of Footsteps: Commemorating the Armenian Genocide in Turkey," at
the Shahnasarian Hall in Glenview, Illinois, I momentarily glanced
around me at the small audience. I recalled the first sounds the
Chicago Armenian Community made in 1975 as they gathered in downtown
Chicago to commemorate April 24 and to demonstrate against the
Turkish government. The crowd of Armenian marchers-men, women, and
children-was huge. Their footsteps thundered and their voices roared,
"Justice! We want justice!" Since those first footsteps were taken in
this city and elsewhere, we, as a people, have accomplished much in
the fight for genocide recognition throughout the world. As a result,
the genocide of the Armenian people is no longer commemorated only
in our churches, halls, and centers. As Mouradian recounted the
commemorative events he had witnessed this past April in Turkey,
as well as discussing the April 24, 2010, conference in Ankara he
had participated in, he stated that for the first time, an "open
air" genocide commemoration took place in Turkey-the land where
the unspeakable horrors were committed. The editor added that every
Saturday weeping Kurdish women, holding red carnations, gather to
remember family members who have "disappeared," and every April 24,
they also hold up photos of slain Armenian intellectuals.
The Weekly editor (second from the right) speaking on justice and
reparations in Ankara on April 24, 2010. Also in photo (from left):
Sevan Nisanyan, Henry Theriault, and Temel Demirer.
Mouradian touched on the subject of stolen Armenian property and the
Turkish Republic's establishment on Armenian wealth, topics which
had been discussed during the conference. He spoke on the issue of
justice and stated, "Being an Armenian in Turkey and then talking
about the Genocide is a double crime." Despite this, remarkably, an
"open-air" genocide commemoration had taken place.
"The fate of genocide survivors is to constantly tell their stories,"
explained the editor and gave the example of one survivor he had
spoken with. "When she told her story she would stop, laugh, then say,
'I am sorry, but I have run out of tears,'" he said. As the editor
recounted the elderly woman's story, I remembered Deegeen Takouhi,
another genocide survivor, who had made her home in Chicago.
She too was one of those whose tears had run out long ago, so when she
told her story, laugher replaced the tears that once flowed. Whether
teary-eyed or dry, the genocide survivors I had spoken to over the
years all had that same look in their eyes-the look of immeasurable
loss and profound grief.
Before concluding his presentation, Mouradian briefly talked about his
visit to Ani, where cow dung dots the crumbling cathedral, and there
is no mention of the Armenians. "I picked up stones at Ani to bring
back home with me...," he said. What an image! What a poignant way
for the editor to end his talk-"I picked up stones." After all, stones
are strong. Stones are enduring. Picturing the stirring scene he had
just described, I glanced around me at the audience again and thought,
"Too bad," recalling how in years past presentations such as this one
were attended in large numbers by the community, including the youth.
Then, as I thought more about the stones, I could not help but
think that although strong and enduring, without protection from the
elements, time has a way of eroding stones, turning them into sand.
Let the sounds, "the footsteps of a rose-flooded dawn," Daniel Varoujan
heard and wrote of before that fateful day in 1915, never fade! Let
the stones of Ani never turn to sand!
From: A. Papazian
Knarik Meneshian
http://www.armenianweekly.com/2010/08/03/meneshian-hear-the-footsteps-of-a-rose-flooded-dawn/
Aug 3 2010
In June and July 2010, Weekly editor Khatchig Mouradian presented a
lecture titled "The Sound of Footsteps: Commemorating the Armenian
Genocide in Turkey" in several cities and towns in Massachusetts,
Illinois, California, Michigan, Rhode Island, and New Jersey. The
article below, by Knarik O. Meneshian, is based on her impressions
from the lecture held in Glenview, Ill.
"In Turkey you don't have to look for the Genocide, it's right
there-everywhere-staring you in the face..." When Khatchig
Mouradian, editor of the Armenian Weekly, spoke these words at
his recent lecture and slideshow presentation titled "The Sound
of Footsteps: Commemorating the Armenian Genocide in Turkey," at
the Shahnasarian Hall in Glenview, Illinois, I momentarily glanced
around me at the small audience. I recalled the first sounds the
Chicago Armenian Community made in 1975 as they gathered in downtown
Chicago to commemorate April 24 and to demonstrate against the
Turkish government. The crowd of Armenian marchers-men, women, and
children-was huge. Their footsteps thundered and their voices roared,
"Justice! We want justice!" Since those first footsteps were taken in
this city and elsewhere, we, as a people, have accomplished much in
the fight for genocide recognition throughout the world. As a result,
the genocide of the Armenian people is no longer commemorated only
in our churches, halls, and centers. As Mouradian recounted the
commemorative events he had witnessed this past April in Turkey,
as well as discussing the April 24, 2010, conference in Ankara he
had participated in, he stated that for the first time, an "open
air" genocide commemoration took place in Turkey-the land where
the unspeakable horrors were committed. The editor added that every
Saturday weeping Kurdish women, holding red carnations, gather to
remember family members who have "disappeared," and every April 24,
they also hold up photos of slain Armenian intellectuals.
The Weekly editor (second from the right) speaking on justice and
reparations in Ankara on April 24, 2010. Also in photo (from left):
Sevan Nisanyan, Henry Theriault, and Temel Demirer.
Mouradian touched on the subject of stolen Armenian property and the
Turkish Republic's establishment on Armenian wealth, topics which
had been discussed during the conference. He spoke on the issue of
justice and stated, "Being an Armenian in Turkey and then talking
about the Genocide is a double crime." Despite this, remarkably, an
"open-air" genocide commemoration had taken place.
"The fate of genocide survivors is to constantly tell their stories,"
explained the editor and gave the example of one survivor he had
spoken with. "When she told her story she would stop, laugh, then say,
'I am sorry, but I have run out of tears,'" he said. As the editor
recounted the elderly woman's story, I remembered Deegeen Takouhi,
another genocide survivor, who had made her home in Chicago.
She too was one of those whose tears had run out long ago, so when she
told her story, laugher replaced the tears that once flowed. Whether
teary-eyed or dry, the genocide survivors I had spoken to over the
years all had that same look in their eyes-the look of immeasurable
loss and profound grief.
Before concluding his presentation, Mouradian briefly talked about his
visit to Ani, where cow dung dots the crumbling cathedral, and there
is no mention of the Armenians. "I picked up stones at Ani to bring
back home with me...," he said. What an image! What a poignant way
for the editor to end his talk-"I picked up stones." After all, stones
are strong. Stones are enduring. Picturing the stirring scene he had
just described, I glanced around me at the audience again and thought,
"Too bad," recalling how in years past presentations such as this one
were attended in large numbers by the community, including the youth.
Then, as I thought more about the stones, I could not help but
think that although strong and enduring, without protection from the
elements, time has a way of eroding stones, turning them into sand.
Let the sounds, "the footsteps of a rose-flooded dawn," Daniel Varoujan
heard and wrote of before that fateful day in 1915, never fade! Let
the stones of Ani never turn to sand!
From: A. Papazian