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LEYLEGIAN: HER NAME WAS SARAH
By Dorothy Leylegian
http://www.armenianweekly.com/2011/05/23/leylegian-her-name-was-sarah/
Mon, May 23 2011
In the late 19th and early 20th century, the Ottoman Empire
planned the brutal removal of its Christian minorities. Among the
nationalities that were targeted, the Armenians were singled out
to be destroyed. Initially women and children were forced into
the desert ,where the elements of nature alone would mark their
graves.Those fortunate enough to die were spared the degradation of
rape or, even worse, being taken into a harem or into bondage in a
Turkish household. Mothers literally threw their infant or toddler
daughters into the rivers to drown rather than relinquish them to
Turkish soldiers.
Among the little girls that met this fate was my husband's mother,
Sarah. Sarah's family lived in a little village called Khoshmat in
eastern Turkey. I made a journey to Turkey, where I spent a month in
the interior visitingthe cities and villages of both my husband's
family and my own. When I reached Sarah's village, I was totally
puzzled how anyone found it or built there, let alone why the Turks
even bothered to go up what was a hillside that only donkeys had
originally been able to climb. The entire village was like a time
warp--left exactly as the Turks took it over after slaughtering its
inhabitants. When they crashed into Sarah's family's house, they
killed her entire family as she watched in horror. Somehow, even at
age six, she managed to find a way out. And she ran and kept running
until she only remembers being exhausted, the dark, and being unable
to go any further.
Unable to run another step, she came upon a cow barn, where she found
a corner to hide in, and fell asleep on some hay. In the morning the
farmer found her, grabbed her and, knowing she was Armenian, sold her
to a Turkish neighbor who already had a number of Christian girls in a
harem, which was monitored by a woman called Khahnum who disciplined
and ruled the girls. The girls were there for one purpose only, to
service the Agha (or master of the house). Those girls who reached
puberty were not only sexually used by the Agha, but sold at will to
anyone who paid for the service. It was not advantageous to be pretty.
Sarah was only six, and she would need training before she was
subjected to this treatment. The girls were also there to serve meals
and be on call to the Agha's wife.
On her first day of capture she was brusquely grabbed from her bed
and taken to the barn, where she endured the gruesome and excruciating
pain of having a hot branding iron, which bore the mark of the house
to which the animals belonged, pressed to her cheek. This was in
the event she ran away (she would have the initials of the owners
so she would be returned), just like the little tags that dogs wear:
"Return to owner." While screaming from pain and crying in her bed,
the Khahnum told her to stop crying or she face further punishment.
Within a few days, Sarah was taught to go to the well to fetch water,
and she was expected to return with the water jar atop her head,
without the use of her hands to balance. She was commanded to learn
how to pour the water into the glass of the master's wife without a
single drop spilling onto the table. On her way back from the well,
being little and not yet able to balance a heavy water jar, Sarah's jar
tilted and began to slide off her head, and although she prevented it
from falling and breaking, the Khahnum grabbed her by her arms, dragged
her into the house and, in full view of all the other girls, threw
her onto the floor, slapped her, and called her names. While Sarah
tried to defend herself, the woman bent down close to her, shielding
her from the others, and whispered into her ear, in Armenian: "Sarah,
don't be scared. I am an Armenian, and I am going to save you. I want
you to scream and scream as loud as you can." To be sure she would
do just that, the woman gave her a strong pinch. Sarah screamed,
and the woman picked her up, threw her into her bed, and told her to
"sus" and not to move.
The next morning toward dawn, while the entire household was still
asleep, the bread wagon pulled by donkey arrived at the back service
door of the house. Sarah suddenly felt a hand on her mouth; the woman,
giving her a "shh" signal, wrapped her in a blanket and carried
her out, tucking her in under the cover of the bread wagon. The
driver took Sarah to the local orphanage, where she was taken in by
missionaries who were, at least for a short while, able to shelter
those who were placed there. Sarah grew up in the orphanage. When the
girls were old enough, photographs of them were mailed all over the
world to secure a home for them; mail-order brides became a lucrative
business. Sarah's father's brother, who had settled in Rhode Island
in the United States in the late 1800â~@²s, located her through the
Armenian Missionary Association of America (AMAA) and arranged to have
her brought over as his daughter. She arrived as a young woman, and she
met my father-in-law, who asked her uncle's permission to marry her.
The agreement was made after my father-in-law paid all of the expenses
incurred for Sarah's passage--basically, the second time she was sold.
When I met Sarah for the first time, I could not believe what a
stunning woman she was, with her cat eyes, her jet black hair, her
distinctively high cheekbones, a body that was like a model's, skin
as smooth as silk, a total beauty--marred by what appeared as a huge
scar in the center of her cheek. The surface scar, however, was nowhere
near as deep as the emotions she must have lived with all her life.
Despite all the odds working against her, she did grow to be a
beautiful woman. And despite inner turmoil, she remained staunch
and solid, had 2 handsome and wonderful sons (one of which is my
fantastic husband), 5 grandchildren, 11 great-grandchildren--the
next generation of wonderful Armenian people that the Turks wished
to annihilate from earth. They planned a genocide, but here we are,
living proof that God had another plan for us.
From: Baghdasarian
By Dorothy Leylegian
http://www.armenianweekly.com/2011/05/23/leylegian-her-name-was-sarah/
Mon, May 23 2011
In the late 19th and early 20th century, the Ottoman Empire
planned the brutal removal of its Christian minorities. Among the
nationalities that were targeted, the Armenians were singled out
to be destroyed. Initially women and children were forced into
the desert ,where the elements of nature alone would mark their
graves.Those fortunate enough to die were spared the degradation of
rape or, even worse, being taken into a harem or into bondage in a
Turkish household. Mothers literally threw their infant or toddler
daughters into the rivers to drown rather than relinquish them to
Turkish soldiers.
Among the little girls that met this fate was my husband's mother,
Sarah. Sarah's family lived in a little village called Khoshmat in
eastern Turkey. I made a journey to Turkey, where I spent a month in
the interior visitingthe cities and villages of both my husband's
family and my own. When I reached Sarah's village, I was totally
puzzled how anyone found it or built there, let alone why the Turks
even bothered to go up what was a hillside that only donkeys had
originally been able to climb. The entire village was like a time
warp--left exactly as the Turks took it over after slaughtering its
inhabitants. When they crashed into Sarah's family's house, they
killed her entire family as she watched in horror. Somehow, even at
age six, she managed to find a way out. And she ran and kept running
until she only remembers being exhausted, the dark, and being unable
to go any further.
Unable to run another step, she came upon a cow barn, where she found
a corner to hide in, and fell asleep on some hay. In the morning the
farmer found her, grabbed her and, knowing she was Armenian, sold her
to a Turkish neighbor who already had a number of Christian girls in a
harem, which was monitored by a woman called Khahnum who disciplined
and ruled the girls. The girls were there for one purpose only, to
service the Agha (or master of the house). Those girls who reached
puberty were not only sexually used by the Agha, but sold at will to
anyone who paid for the service. It was not advantageous to be pretty.
Sarah was only six, and she would need training before she was
subjected to this treatment. The girls were also there to serve meals
and be on call to the Agha's wife.
On her first day of capture she was brusquely grabbed from her bed
and taken to the barn, where she endured the gruesome and excruciating
pain of having a hot branding iron, which bore the mark of the house
to which the animals belonged, pressed to her cheek. This was in
the event she ran away (she would have the initials of the owners
so she would be returned), just like the little tags that dogs wear:
"Return to owner." While screaming from pain and crying in her bed,
the Khahnum told her to stop crying or she face further punishment.
Within a few days, Sarah was taught to go to the well to fetch water,
and she was expected to return with the water jar atop her head,
without the use of her hands to balance. She was commanded to learn
how to pour the water into the glass of the master's wife without a
single drop spilling onto the table. On her way back from the well,
being little and not yet able to balance a heavy water jar, Sarah's jar
tilted and began to slide off her head, and although she prevented it
from falling and breaking, the Khahnum grabbed her by her arms, dragged
her into the house and, in full view of all the other girls, threw
her onto the floor, slapped her, and called her names. While Sarah
tried to defend herself, the woman bent down close to her, shielding
her from the others, and whispered into her ear, in Armenian: "Sarah,
don't be scared. I am an Armenian, and I am going to save you. I want
you to scream and scream as loud as you can." To be sure she would
do just that, the woman gave her a strong pinch. Sarah screamed,
and the woman picked her up, threw her into her bed, and told her to
"sus" and not to move.
The next morning toward dawn, while the entire household was still
asleep, the bread wagon pulled by donkey arrived at the back service
door of the house. Sarah suddenly felt a hand on her mouth; the woman,
giving her a "shh" signal, wrapped her in a blanket and carried
her out, tucking her in under the cover of the bread wagon. The
driver took Sarah to the local orphanage, where she was taken in by
missionaries who were, at least for a short while, able to shelter
those who were placed there. Sarah grew up in the orphanage. When the
girls were old enough, photographs of them were mailed all over the
world to secure a home for them; mail-order brides became a lucrative
business. Sarah's father's brother, who had settled in Rhode Island
in the United States in the late 1800â~@²s, located her through the
Armenian Missionary Association of America (AMAA) and arranged to have
her brought over as his daughter. She arrived as a young woman, and she
met my father-in-law, who asked her uncle's permission to marry her.
The agreement was made after my father-in-law paid all of the expenses
incurred for Sarah's passage--basically, the second time she was sold.
When I met Sarah for the first time, I could not believe what a
stunning woman she was, with her cat eyes, her jet black hair, her
distinctively high cheekbones, a body that was like a model's, skin
as smooth as silk, a total beauty--marred by what appeared as a huge
scar in the center of her cheek. The surface scar, however, was nowhere
near as deep as the emotions she must have lived with all her life.
Despite all the odds working against her, she did grow to be a
beautiful woman. And despite inner turmoil, she remained staunch
and solid, had 2 handsome and wonderful sons (one of which is my
fantastic husband), 5 grandchildren, 11 great-grandchildren--the
next generation of wonderful Armenian people that the Turks wished
to annihilate from earth. They planned a genocide, but here we are,
living proof that God had another plan for us.
From: Baghdasarian