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Beyond Stories of Survival
by Hourig Mayissian
http://www.armenianweekly.com/2012/08/19/beyond-stories-of-survival/
August 19, 2012
Hatoun is sitting up still with her back against a tall palm tree, her
head bowed as though she's asleep. She has seated a doll she received
as a present from an American aid worker up in the same position
against another, smaller tree close by. She has torn the doll's head
off and placed it, face up next to its body.
No scene in any other book has haunted me to this extent. And
certainly, no other character I've come across has pierced through me
with the same intensity.
Hatoun is one of the main characters in Chris Bohjalian's recently
released masterpiece on the Armenian Genocide, The Sandcastle Girls.
Hatoun is a child of not more than 7 or 8. Hatoun is a survivor of the
Armenian Genocide. And in this scene, Hatoun is re-enacting the
murder, by decapitation, of her mother and older sister which she
witnessed on the long march from Adana to Aleppo.
No scene in any other book has haunted me to this extent. And
certainly, no other character I've come across has pierced through me
with the same intensity. Ever since I came across it, this scene has
taken a life of its own in my mind, epitomising the millions of untold
stories of suffering, of trauma, of feelings experienced both by those
who perished during the Genocide and those who survived.
I have reflected on this moment over and over in the past ten days
since I put the book down. How did Genocide survivors deal with and
try to overcome the trauma they had experienced? What did they feel on
those marches, in the concentration camps, witnessing the brutal
murder of family members, throughout the starvation, the deprivation,
the humiliation? How were raped women and young girls ever able to
love and have sex again? What type of parents did orphaned children
manage to become? How did their experiences during the Genocide impact
their day-to-day life as survivors?
I tried to recall stories about my own ancestors who had survived the
Genocide in hope of remembering a habit, an incident, a
characteristic, anything of theirs that would tell me something beyond
their story of survival, beyond the chronology of how they ended up
where they did.
I remembered that my maternal great grandmother, who suffered from
advanced Alzheimer's at old age, would stand in front of a mirror,
stare at herself in horror and ask her grandchildren to give `this
poor starving orphan' some bread and water. My great grandmother was a
survivor of the Genocide, rescued by a Turkish man who adopted her
somewhere along the march from Harput.
I recalled hearing about other survivors and their stories. A friend's
grandfather, also a Genocide survivor, would have an anxiety attack if
ever he walked into the living room and saw there was no food on the
table. There always had to be food on the table. The horror an
Armenian American friend managed to inflict upon his grandmother while
she babysat him one day, when he innocently opened the door to a
stranger. After all, isn't this how it started for many - with an
unannounced visitor at the door?
I spoke with my parents, I spoke with my husband to try and dig out
more memories that would help me understand how Genocide survivors
dealt with their trauma - something we might have overlooked or
forgotten. How did my husband's grandfather, a survivor with a
remarkable story that took him from Hassanbey to Australia, overcome
seeing his father, along with all the other men in the city, rounded
up in the city square, their beards set on fire until their bodies
turned to ashes? Some of these stories we will never know.
I remembered Suzanne Khardalian's `Grandma's Tattoos' and the story of
a grandmother as told through the eyes of her grandchildren: A woman
rendered cold, distant, and strange after her experience being raped
as a child while escaping the Genocide.
Too often when we're busy advocating for Genocide recognition and
fighting denial, are we prone to `forget'' the names and faces behind
the numbers. Too few are the survivor accounts that take us so deep
into the psyche of the survivors themselves beyond the story, beyond
the events, beyond the facts.
The Sandcastle Girls brought a forgotten or neglected aspect of the
Genocide to life for me. It reminded me that our ancestors were not
only stories of survival. They were flesh and blood, heart and soul,
they felt, they hurt, they struggled, they loved, they lost and they
loved again - they were.
by Hourig Mayissian
http://www.armenianweekly.com/2012/08/19/beyond-stories-of-survival/
August 19, 2012
Hatoun is sitting up still with her back against a tall palm tree, her
head bowed as though she's asleep. She has seated a doll she received
as a present from an American aid worker up in the same position
against another, smaller tree close by. She has torn the doll's head
off and placed it, face up next to its body.
No scene in any other book has haunted me to this extent. And
certainly, no other character I've come across has pierced through me
with the same intensity.
Hatoun is one of the main characters in Chris Bohjalian's recently
released masterpiece on the Armenian Genocide, The Sandcastle Girls.
Hatoun is a child of not more than 7 or 8. Hatoun is a survivor of the
Armenian Genocide. And in this scene, Hatoun is re-enacting the
murder, by decapitation, of her mother and older sister which she
witnessed on the long march from Adana to Aleppo.
No scene in any other book has haunted me to this extent. And
certainly, no other character I've come across has pierced through me
with the same intensity. Ever since I came across it, this scene has
taken a life of its own in my mind, epitomising the millions of untold
stories of suffering, of trauma, of feelings experienced both by those
who perished during the Genocide and those who survived.
I have reflected on this moment over and over in the past ten days
since I put the book down. How did Genocide survivors deal with and
try to overcome the trauma they had experienced? What did they feel on
those marches, in the concentration camps, witnessing the brutal
murder of family members, throughout the starvation, the deprivation,
the humiliation? How were raped women and young girls ever able to
love and have sex again? What type of parents did orphaned children
manage to become? How did their experiences during the Genocide impact
their day-to-day life as survivors?
I tried to recall stories about my own ancestors who had survived the
Genocide in hope of remembering a habit, an incident, a
characteristic, anything of theirs that would tell me something beyond
their story of survival, beyond the chronology of how they ended up
where they did.
I remembered that my maternal great grandmother, who suffered from
advanced Alzheimer's at old age, would stand in front of a mirror,
stare at herself in horror and ask her grandchildren to give `this
poor starving orphan' some bread and water. My great grandmother was a
survivor of the Genocide, rescued by a Turkish man who adopted her
somewhere along the march from Harput.
I recalled hearing about other survivors and their stories. A friend's
grandfather, also a Genocide survivor, would have an anxiety attack if
ever he walked into the living room and saw there was no food on the
table. There always had to be food on the table. The horror an
Armenian American friend managed to inflict upon his grandmother while
she babysat him one day, when he innocently opened the door to a
stranger. After all, isn't this how it started for many - with an
unannounced visitor at the door?
I spoke with my parents, I spoke with my husband to try and dig out
more memories that would help me understand how Genocide survivors
dealt with their trauma - something we might have overlooked or
forgotten. How did my husband's grandfather, a survivor with a
remarkable story that took him from Hassanbey to Australia, overcome
seeing his father, along with all the other men in the city, rounded
up in the city square, their beards set on fire until their bodies
turned to ashes? Some of these stories we will never know.
I remembered Suzanne Khardalian's `Grandma's Tattoos' and the story of
a grandmother as told through the eyes of her grandchildren: A woman
rendered cold, distant, and strange after her experience being raped
as a child while escaping the Genocide.
Too often when we're busy advocating for Genocide recognition and
fighting denial, are we prone to `forget'' the names and faces behind
the numbers. Too few are the survivor accounts that take us so deep
into the psyche of the survivors themselves beyond the story, beyond
the events, beyond the facts.
The Sandcastle Girls brought a forgotten or neglected aspect of the
Genocide to life for me. It reminded me that our ancestors were not
only stories of survival. They were flesh and blood, heart and soul,
they felt, they hurt, they struggled, they loved, they lost and they
loved again - they were.