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Kessab Roots: A Survivor's Story
http://www.armenianweekly.com/2011/11/19/kessab-roots-a-survivor%e2%80%99s-story/
Sat, Nov 19 2011
By: Lalai Manjikian
As a Diasporan Armenian connected to Armenia, as well as historical
Armenia (currently in Turkey), part of the multitude of attachments I
carry is with Kessab, a region and a town located in the northwestern
part of Syria, on the Mediterranean Sea, at the Turkish border.
Apparently, it has been inhabited by Armenians since the 11thcentury,
going back to the Cilician Armenian Kingdom.
Weekly columnist Lalai Manjikian with her grandmother.
Kessab remains a predominantly Armenian enclave to this day. A drive
down a narrow, winding road through towering mountains eventually
leads to my father's village Karadouran, located directly on the
Mediterranean Sea. The untamed, mountainous backdrop is now being
populated with modern condo developments alongside ancient stone
houses. The most valuable resource in the area is the fertile land,
and villagers subsisted mainly by selling their harvest, initially
with non-mechanized and rudimentary processes.
Karadouran is where my grandmother, Kalila Yaralian-Manjikian, lived
until she quietly passed away last week at the age of 104.
I was fortunate enough to have visited her - to have heard her wisdom,
laughed with her, answered her questions, heard her answer the
questions I had about her life, hugged her, and experienced her sense
of humor and inquisitive mind first hand. The last time I saw her was
during her 100th birthday celebration in October 2007. I was in the
presence of a century lived, and Kalil Nene inspired me with her
strength and resilience.
She was unquestionably the doyenne of the village. Visitors, friends,
and family, from near and far, would always make the mandatory stop to
see Kalil Nene, to receive her blessings, to answer her inquisitive
questions of what they were up to and where they were in their
life - and this, until her very last days. Even filmmakers, who for some
reason stopped in this remote area, were taken by her degree of
lucidity and her life trajectory, as they sought to preserve her and
her words on film.
When I last saw her, I was amazed by how `with it,' self-sufficient,
and mobile she was at 100. Her level of awareness, her intact memory
that recalled the finest of details, her sharp, inquisitive mind, and
her wit, were remarkable. At times, she had critical words to offer;
at other times, she was very categorical about what she wanted. Most
of the time, she would voice her opinion and would then let it go with
a simple `Eh, took keedek' (as you wish, or, you know best). She
always knew the whereabouts and status of everyone in the village, and
those who had left and were abroad.
Named after the Biblical Galilee (the Armenian variant of her name was
Kalila), Kalil Nene was born in 1907 in the village of Karadouran,
near the town of Kessab. My grandmother was one when the Adana
massacres were carried out by the Turkish authorities. Along with her
immediate family and many of the other villagers, she fled Karadouran
for a brief time. Upon their return to Kessab, and as soon as they had
rebuilt what had been pillaged, in 1915 the Armenian population of
Kessab was once again confronted with displacement, alongside the
massive deportation orchestrated by the Ottoman Turks who forcefully
removed the Armenian population from eastern Turkey. My grandmother's
family, along with the rest of the Armenians of Karadouran, made their
way to Damascus on foot. After a short rest, the caravan of the
displaced headed towards Jordan, to the Salt and Mahas regions. In
Mahas, Kalil Nene's father passed away.
In 1918, when the British army entered Jerusalem, her family moved
there. She bore a tattoo with a cross and the year 1918 as a memento
from her time in Jerusalem.
Her family moved yet again, this time by train, to Port Said, in
Egypt. A number of other Armenian inhabitants of Kessab from various
regions, as well as some from Musa Dagh, where established there. It
is in Port Said where Kalil Nene learned the Armenian alphabet.
After World War I, at the beginning of 1919, the Armenians residing in
Port Said began to resettle in other regions or returned home. Kalil
Nene's family was taken by train to Aleppo, Syria, where horse wagons
took them to the region of Antioch. From there, they made their way
back to Kessab, and then to Karadouran on foot. The Armenian
population of Kessab that survived the mass killings and deportations
was able to begin rebuilding their destroyed homes and villages.
Kalil Nene married my grandfather, Hovsep Manjikian, in 1927 and they
had three children. In addition to her motherly responsibilities, she
worked hard with her husband in all the demanding village tasks.
When Kalil Nene turned 100 years old, one of her grandchildren asked
her, What is the secret to living so long? She simply replied, `Lead a
clean life.' There is a multitude of ways one can interpret her
statement.
During her 100th birthday celebration, she refused everyone's help in
getting to the party: On her own, she went down the 10 stairs from
where she lived with my aunt, then walked quite a distance from the
car to get to the `honor table' at the birthday venue, a restaurant at
the edge of the Mediterranean. We all watched as she took one solid
step after another, with her two wooden canes.
She was a long-standing member of the Armenian Relief Society - a member
for 80 years - as well as a supporter of Armenian schools in the Kessab
region. She even attended the opening of the new school building
recently and contributed to the project.
How did she live such a long and healthy life? Perhaps it was the
clean air, her genetic make-up, the arduous physical labour in the
village for years, or the fact that she was a strict vegetarian and
preferred to eat grains, such as bulgur and lentils, that granted her
a long life. Maybe a bit of all of that, combined with her overall
positive and healthy outlook on life and her sense of humor.
Although twice forcefully displaced, Kalil Nene had returned to her
ancestral land. She was born and raised there, she tirelessly worked
the land there, and she passed away there peacefully after living a
healthy life for more than a century, only to be buried in the land
she laboured so hard on. Life came full circle for her, as it will for
all of us. Yet, living within a diasporic reality, to be born, raised,
to work and die on one's ancestral land, close to one's roots, is a
rare gift.
http://www.armenianweekly.com/2011/11/19/kessab-roots-a-survivor%e2%80%99s-story/
Sat, Nov 19 2011
By: Lalai Manjikian
As a Diasporan Armenian connected to Armenia, as well as historical
Armenia (currently in Turkey), part of the multitude of attachments I
carry is with Kessab, a region and a town located in the northwestern
part of Syria, on the Mediterranean Sea, at the Turkish border.
Apparently, it has been inhabited by Armenians since the 11thcentury,
going back to the Cilician Armenian Kingdom.
Weekly columnist Lalai Manjikian with her grandmother.
Kessab remains a predominantly Armenian enclave to this day. A drive
down a narrow, winding road through towering mountains eventually
leads to my father's village Karadouran, located directly on the
Mediterranean Sea. The untamed, mountainous backdrop is now being
populated with modern condo developments alongside ancient stone
houses. The most valuable resource in the area is the fertile land,
and villagers subsisted mainly by selling their harvest, initially
with non-mechanized and rudimentary processes.
Karadouran is where my grandmother, Kalila Yaralian-Manjikian, lived
until she quietly passed away last week at the age of 104.
I was fortunate enough to have visited her - to have heard her wisdom,
laughed with her, answered her questions, heard her answer the
questions I had about her life, hugged her, and experienced her sense
of humor and inquisitive mind first hand. The last time I saw her was
during her 100th birthday celebration in October 2007. I was in the
presence of a century lived, and Kalil Nene inspired me with her
strength and resilience.
She was unquestionably the doyenne of the village. Visitors, friends,
and family, from near and far, would always make the mandatory stop to
see Kalil Nene, to receive her blessings, to answer her inquisitive
questions of what they were up to and where they were in their
life - and this, until her very last days. Even filmmakers, who for some
reason stopped in this remote area, were taken by her degree of
lucidity and her life trajectory, as they sought to preserve her and
her words on film.
When I last saw her, I was amazed by how `with it,' self-sufficient,
and mobile she was at 100. Her level of awareness, her intact memory
that recalled the finest of details, her sharp, inquisitive mind, and
her wit, were remarkable. At times, she had critical words to offer;
at other times, she was very categorical about what she wanted. Most
of the time, she would voice her opinion and would then let it go with
a simple `Eh, took keedek' (as you wish, or, you know best). She
always knew the whereabouts and status of everyone in the village, and
those who had left and were abroad.
Named after the Biblical Galilee (the Armenian variant of her name was
Kalila), Kalil Nene was born in 1907 in the village of Karadouran,
near the town of Kessab. My grandmother was one when the Adana
massacres were carried out by the Turkish authorities. Along with her
immediate family and many of the other villagers, she fled Karadouran
for a brief time. Upon their return to Kessab, and as soon as they had
rebuilt what had been pillaged, in 1915 the Armenian population of
Kessab was once again confronted with displacement, alongside the
massive deportation orchestrated by the Ottoman Turks who forcefully
removed the Armenian population from eastern Turkey. My grandmother's
family, along with the rest of the Armenians of Karadouran, made their
way to Damascus on foot. After a short rest, the caravan of the
displaced headed towards Jordan, to the Salt and Mahas regions. In
Mahas, Kalil Nene's father passed away.
In 1918, when the British army entered Jerusalem, her family moved
there. She bore a tattoo with a cross and the year 1918 as a memento
from her time in Jerusalem.
Her family moved yet again, this time by train, to Port Said, in
Egypt. A number of other Armenian inhabitants of Kessab from various
regions, as well as some from Musa Dagh, where established there. It
is in Port Said where Kalil Nene learned the Armenian alphabet.
After World War I, at the beginning of 1919, the Armenians residing in
Port Said began to resettle in other regions or returned home. Kalil
Nene's family was taken by train to Aleppo, Syria, where horse wagons
took them to the region of Antioch. From there, they made their way
back to Kessab, and then to Karadouran on foot. The Armenian
population of Kessab that survived the mass killings and deportations
was able to begin rebuilding their destroyed homes and villages.
Kalil Nene married my grandfather, Hovsep Manjikian, in 1927 and they
had three children. In addition to her motherly responsibilities, she
worked hard with her husband in all the demanding village tasks.
When Kalil Nene turned 100 years old, one of her grandchildren asked
her, What is the secret to living so long? She simply replied, `Lead a
clean life.' There is a multitude of ways one can interpret her
statement.
During her 100th birthday celebration, she refused everyone's help in
getting to the party: On her own, she went down the 10 stairs from
where she lived with my aunt, then walked quite a distance from the
car to get to the `honor table' at the birthday venue, a restaurant at
the edge of the Mediterranean. We all watched as she took one solid
step after another, with her two wooden canes.
She was a long-standing member of the Armenian Relief Society - a member
for 80 years - as well as a supporter of Armenian schools in the Kessab
region. She even attended the opening of the new school building
recently and contributed to the project.
How did she live such a long and healthy life? Perhaps it was the
clean air, her genetic make-up, the arduous physical labour in the
village for years, or the fact that she was a strict vegetarian and
preferred to eat grains, such as bulgur and lentils, that granted her
a long life. Maybe a bit of all of that, combined with her overall
positive and healthy outlook on life and her sense of humor.
Although twice forcefully displaced, Kalil Nene had returned to her
ancestral land. She was born and raised there, she tirelessly worked
the land there, and she passed away there peacefully after living a
healthy life for more than a century, only to be buried in the land
she laboured so hard on. Life came full circle for her, as it will for
all of us. Yet, living within a diasporic reality, to be born, raised,
to work and die on one's ancestral land, close to one's roots, is a
rare gift.