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'HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN 200,000 ORPHANS?'; REMEMBERING GENOCIDE
The Daily News of Los Angeles
April 24, 2012 Tuesday
They held their children in their arms and carried whatever else they
could into the desert.
Bibles that had been in families for centuries. Handmade lace
handkerchiefs made for weddings and baptisms. Documents that listed
their names and where they were born.
Nearly 100 years after the Armenian Genocide began in the Ottoman
Empire, some of those very same items can be found carefully preserved
in glass cases and in frames in the San Fernando Valley, a testament
of survival.
"People have sudden emotional reactions when they walk in," said Nora
Nalbantian, treasurer and interior designer for the Ararat Eskijian
Museum in Mission Hills. "It's historical, but not so far back that
people can't relate to it."
Founded and designed by Luther Eskijian, himself a child survivor of
the Armenian Genocide, the museum was opened in 1996 near the Ararat
Home of Los Angeles, a senior care facility that opened in 1949. The
museum houses historical maps, coins, crafts, medals, sketches, musical
instruments and a library. While the Armenian Genocide is its focus,
the museum also pays tribute to Armenian-Americans who are or have
served in the U.S. Armed Forces, and to contemporary writers, such
as William Saroyan.
Many children come for field trips to the museum, as well as scholars,
said Maggie Mangassarian-Goschin, who is the curator. But she called
the museum a gem that the public at large may not know about.
Although usually only open on Saturday and Sundays, the museum
also will be open today - the international day of remembrance of
the genocide.
Several events - including lectures and demonstrations - will be held
throughout Los Angeles today as Armenians commemorate the genocide.
Glendale, as well as parts of the San Fernando are home to the largest
diaspora of Armenians outside of Armenian.
An estimated 1.5 million Armenians died from 1915-23 in what has been
called the first genocide of the 20th century.
The Turkish government maintains the deaths were a consequence of
betrayal and civil unrest in what was then the Ottoman Empire. Even the
genocide has become politicized with both the United States and Turkish
governments refusing to call it such. Armenian-American activists have
said the U.S. government won't officially recognize the killings as
genocide because it would hurt relations with Turkey, a NATO ally.
"Turks believe it was a civil war within a world war, engineered,
provoked, and waged by the Armenians with active support from Russia,
England, and France, and passive support from the U.S. diplomats,
missionaries, media and others with anti-Turkish agendas, all
eyeing the vast territories of the collapsing Ottoman Empire," said
Ergun Kirklikovali, president of the Assembly of Turkish American
Associations, based in Washington.
Armenians, however, say the killings involved the systematic cleansing
of Christians, which included Assyrians and Pontic Greeks. Priests
and intellectuals were beheaded. Women and children were terrorized
as they were marched out of their homeland and into the Middle East.
"How do explain 200,000 orphans?" asked Nancy Eskijian, whose father
built the museum. "Where were their parents?"
Her grandfather, the Rev. Hovhannes Eskijian, a protestant pastor,
dedicated himself to helping those orphans who were left behind after
their parents were killed. His prayer robes, which survived after
more than a century, also can be seen at the museum.
Rose Garjian, who will turn 104 on May 1 and who lives at the Ararat
Home, lived in Killis, Turkey. She remembers when her father told
her and her sisters and brother they had to leave home. He did not
tell them why, only that they should hurry.
"We left our home and went to the desert," she said. "I was 10 years
old. My father took us to hide. He tried to take us away from the
Turks."
Tucked in a corner of the museum is a glass case filled with shattered
bones, remnants of those who died in the Dez Zor desert of Syria.
Nalbantian and others said the museum stands as proof of what happened
to Armenians. And though the survivors such as Garjian are now few,
those who came after must not be afraid to speak out.
"Once fear sets in, then there is silence, and when there is silence,
that means the enemy has won," Nalbantian said.
The Daily News of Los Angeles
April 24, 2012 Tuesday
They held their children in their arms and carried whatever else they
could into the desert.
Bibles that had been in families for centuries. Handmade lace
handkerchiefs made for weddings and baptisms. Documents that listed
their names and where they were born.
Nearly 100 years after the Armenian Genocide began in the Ottoman
Empire, some of those very same items can be found carefully preserved
in glass cases and in frames in the San Fernando Valley, a testament
of survival.
"People have sudden emotional reactions when they walk in," said Nora
Nalbantian, treasurer and interior designer for the Ararat Eskijian
Museum in Mission Hills. "It's historical, but not so far back that
people can't relate to it."
Founded and designed by Luther Eskijian, himself a child survivor of
the Armenian Genocide, the museum was opened in 1996 near the Ararat
Home of Los Angeles, a senior care facility that opened in 1949. The
museum houses historical maps, coins, crafts, medals, sketches, musical
instruments and a library. While the Armenian Genocide is its focus,
the museum also pays tribute to Armenian-Americans who are or have
served in the U.S. Armed Forces, and to contemporary writers, such
as William Saroyan.
Many children come for field trips to the museum, as well as scholars,
said Maggie Mangassarian-Goschin, who is the curator. But she called
the museum a gem that the public at large may not know about.
Although usually only open on Saturday and Sundays, the museum
also will be open today - the international day of remembrance of
the genocide.
Several events - including lectures and demonstrations - will be held
throughout Los Angeles today as Armenians commemorate the genocide.
Glendale, as well as parts of the San Fernando are home to the largest
diaspora of Armenians outside of Armenian.
An estimated 1.5 million Armenians died from 1915-23 in what has been
called the first genocide of the 20th century.
The Turkish government maintains the deaths were a consequence of
betrayal and civil unrest in what was then the Ottoman Empire. Even the
genocide has become politicized with both the United States and Turkish
governments refusing to call it such. Armenian-American activists have
said the U.S. government won't officially recognize the killings as
genocide because it would hurt relations with Turkey, a NATO ally.
"Turks believe it was a civil war within a world war, engineered,
provoked, and waged by the Armenians with active support from Russia,
England, and France, and passive support from the U.S. diplomats,
missionaries, media and others with anti-Turkish agendas, all
eyeing the vast territories of the collapsing Ottoman Empire," said
Ergun Kirklikovali, president of the Assembly of Turkish American
Associations, based in Washington.
Armenians, however, say the killings involved the systematic cleansing
of Christians, which included Assyrians and Pontic Greeks. Priests
and intellectuals were beheaded. Women and children were terrorized
as they were marched out of their homeland and into the Middle East.
"How do explain 200,000 orphans?" asked Nancy Eskijian, whose father
built the museum. "Where were their parents?"
Her grandfather, the Rev. Hovhannes Eskijian, a protestant pastor,
dedicated himself to helping those orphans who were left behind after
their parents were killed. His prayer robes, which survived after
more than a century, also can be seen at the museum.
Rose Garjian, who will turn 104 on May 1 and who lives at the Ararat
Home, lived in Killis, Turkey. She remembers when her father told
her and her sisters and brother they had to leave home. He did not
tell them why, only that they should hurry.
"We left our home and went to the desert," she said. "I was 10 years
old. My father took us to hide. He tried to take us away from the
Turks."
Tucked in a corner of the museum is a glass case filled with shattered
bones, remnants of those who died in the Dez Zor desert of Syria.
Nalbantian and others said the museum stands as proof of what happened
to Armenians. And though the survivors such as Garjian are now few,
those who came after must not be afraid to speak out.
"Once fear sets in, then there is silence, and when there is silence,
that means the enemy has won," Nalbantian said.