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ARMY CHEF: A WOMAN WITH WARRIOR'S HEART CATERS TO KARABAKH SOLDIERS' NEEDS WITH MEALS AND CARING ATTITUDE
By GAYANE MKRTCHYAN
ArmeniaNow
http://www.armenianow.com/society/features/41300/armenia_cook_karabakh_army
21.11.12 | 13:32
Something close to chaos rules in the kitchen at one of Nagorno
Karabakh's Defense Army military units. I peep in through the half-open
door - soldiers wearing snow-white typical cook uniforms are chopping
cabbage, putting potatoes into a peeling device, then wash and remove
the "black spots".
As their eyes turn to look at the stranger who has intruded in their
realm I can clearly see a puzzled interest: "Who is this woman?..". To
their silent question I start explaining that I am a reporter looking
for the chef of the night shift. The boys take me to her.
I spot Seda Soghomonyan in the distance. Her grey hair compliments
the white robe and hat. For breakfast soldiers will have the stew
she is making. A bright smile veils the deep-rooted sadness in her
eyes. We get acquainted, and as we speak she opens up and shares her
story. To my question whether she participated in the war she gives
a soldier's response: "Yes, ma'am!"
"Our village was the most heroic one in the Amaras canyon. Together
with the boys I went all the way to Horadiz, took part in the battles
of Martakert. I was a cook, but was doing miscellaneous things," tells
Seda, who is now 52 and lives in Matchkalashen village, Martuni region
of Nagorno Karabakh. "With my kids and my husband I stood on guard,
kept vigil. On December 6, 1991, fierce shelling started, the Turks
[the woman, as many in Karabakh refers to Azeris as Turks] wanted
to take Matchkalashen. Things were unfolding some 50 meters from
our house. How could we stay away and not participate in the fight -
it'd be the same as letting the Turks break into our house and just
sit silently or run away?" recalls Seda.
When talking about the war she gets excited - sparkling eyes, burning
cheeks: "If it happened again, I'd go right away," she says.
In 1992, bloody battles started for Matchkalashen. Azeris launched
a fierce attack. Seda says everybody had left the village, but her
family with her four children and parents-in-law stayed home.
"To tell the truth we had nowhere to go. My husband was at the
frontline. I kept telling my mother-in-law to leave and take the kids
with them. But she'd say to me: "My son is at the frontline, where
would I go?' And so we stayed. Battles at Klor Khut were terrifying. I
went to our posts and saw our guys all lying around wounded, Turks
were approaching. I picked up a rifle, found the walkie-talkie and
started shouting: "Help, everybody is wounded at Klor Khut". If help
got delayed Turks would have taken me away along with all our guys.
Boys would later say, 'Seda has kept the village'," recalls the woman
with a warrior's heart.
During the war Seda's children were 12, 11, 8 and 2 years old. With
her eldest son she'd take hot food to the trenches.
"Some unknown strength overwhelms you and you stop being afraid of
anything. I used to drag out corpses of killed soldiers from the
trenches, as well as the wounded. And they are really heavy, they
are men after all. But then my arms got that strength coming from
somewhere," she says.
Before the war Seda had worked at a shop in Matchkalashen. She recalls
how she had to travel to Martuni to do the procurement, where shop
assistants of various villages would meet. With one of them, Mahmed,
an ethnic Azeri, Seda's family was friends; the war turned them
into enemies.
"I can never forget this. One day after an exchange of captives our
guys came and said: "Seda, Mahmed has sent you regards, but then
asked us to tell you not to stand on guard at the post, 'we know
it's her..'" They were close buddies with my husband, our families
used to visit one another often. He wanted to say that perhaps they
pitied me and didn't shoot me, but I still didn't give up."
After the war, in May 1994, Seda's husband got killed by a landmine.
In 1995, her youngest son got injured again in a landmine explosion.
"It blew out my child's eye, we spent a lot of time in hospitals. My
eldest son is a doctor at one of Askeran's military units. If we were
in our village I'd show our front posts. In 2006 I entered the army
as a cook. Can't be apart from our guys, from the army," she says.
We are running late so have to stop our interview with Seda, with an
agreement to meet in the morning at breakfast.
A soldier's breakfast: the stew cooked at night, condensed sweet
milk, eggs, butter, cheese, tea. Seda is standing by the doors to
the sleepless kitchen watching the eating area. The duty detail is
laying the tables.
At the unit Seda is not only a chef, but also a caring friend to many
soldiers. They trust their secrets to her, talk to her about their
worries, share thoughts and dreams.
"'Someone's sick' or 'my mom's too worried'... It'd be better if family
members didn't tell everything to their sons who are in the army,
they are children, they get upset, their attention shifts to issues
at home. Most importantly there is no war; let them send their sons
[to the army] with peaceful mind and joy. A while ago one of the boys
got heartbroken as his girlfriend had run away with someone else,"
tells Seda.
The lunch menu for the soldiers includes cabbage salad, soup with beef,
beans and rice, buckwheat porridge and juice.
"They are crazy about sweets. And I should say they don't feel deprived
- we give them pastry, chocolate bars, cookies. On a daily basis a
soldier consumes up to 70 grams of sweets," says Seda. "Meet is a
must. They cook 130 kilograms of meet every day."
Her shift ends at noon. She has a day off before she goes back to
the unit. There are three shifts and two chefs.
"Cooking for a thousand people in a night is not an easy task. Soup,
meet, eggs - it is all cooked at night. I love these guys like my
own children, and start missing them as soon as I get home," says Seda.
From: Baghdasarian
By GAYANE MKRTCHYAN
ArmeniaNow
http://www.armenianow.com/society/features/41300/armenia_cook_karabakh_army
21.11.12 | 13:32
Something close to chaos rules in the kitchen at one of Nagorno
Karabakh's Defense Army military units. I peep in through the half-open
door - soldiers wearing snow-white typical cook uniforms are chopping
cabbage, putting potatoes into a peeling device, then wash and remove
the "black spots".
As their eyes turn to look at the stranger who has intruded in their
realm I can clearly see a puzzled interest: "Who is this woman?..". To
their silent question I start explaining that I am a reporter looking
for the chef of the night shift. The boys take me to her.
I spot Seda Soghomonyan in the distance. Her grey hair compliments
the white robe and hat. For breakfast soldiers will have the stew
she is making. A bright smile veils the deep-rooted sadness in her
eyes. We get acquainted, and as we speak she opens up and shares her
story. To my question whether she participated in the war she gives
a soldier's response: "Yes, ma'am!"
"Our village was the most heroic one in the Amaras canyon. Together
with the boys I went all the way to Horadiz, took part in the battles
of Martakert. I was a cook, but was doing miscellaneous things," tells
Seda, who is now 52 and lives in Matchkalashen village, Martuni region
of Nagorno Karabakh. "With my kids and my husband I stood on guard,
kept vigil. On December 6, 1991, fierce shelling started, the Turks
[the woman, as many in Karabakh refers to Azeris as Turks] wanted
to take Matchkalashen. Things were unfolding some 50 meters from
our house. How could we stay away and not participate in the fight -
it'd be the same as letting the Turks break into our house and just
sit silently or run away?" recalls Seda.
When talking about the war she gets excited - sparkling eyes, burning
cheeks: "If it happened again, I'd go right away," she says.
In 1992, bloody battles started for Matchkalashen. Azeris launched
a fierce attack. Seda says everybody had left the village, but her
family with her four children and parents-in-law stayed home.
"To tell the truth we had nowhere to go. My husband was at the
frontline. I kept telling my mother-in-law to leave and take the kids
with them. But she'd say to me: "My son is at the frontline, where
would I go?' And so we stayed. Battles at Klor Khut were terrifying. I
went to our posts and saw our guys all lying around wounded, Turks
were approaching. I picked up a rifle, found the walkie-talkie and
started shouting: "Help, everybody is wounded at Klor Khut". If help
got delayed Turks would have taken me away along with all our guys.
Boys would later say, 'Seda has kept the village'," recalls the woman
with a warrior's heart.
During the war Seda's children were 12, 11, 8 and 2 years old. With
her eldest son she'd take hot food to the trenches.
"Some unknown strength overwhelms you and you stop being afraid of
anything. I used to drag out corpses of killed soldiers from the
trenches, as well as the wounded. And they are really heavy, they
are men after all. But then my arms got that strength coming from
somewhere," she says.
Before the war Seda had worked at a shop in Matchkalashen. She recalls
how she had to travel to Martuni to do the procurement, where shop
assistants of various villages would meet. With one of them, Mahmed,
an ethnic Azeri, Seda's family was friends; the war turned them
into enemies.
"I can never forget this. One day after an exchange of captives our
guys came and said: "Seda, Mahmed has sent you regards, but then
asked us to tell you not to stand on guard at the post, 'we know
it's her..'" They were close buddies with my husband, our families
used to visit one another often. He wanted to say that perhaps they
pitied me and didn't shoot me, but I still didn't give up."
After the war, in May 1994, Seda's husband got killed by a landmine.
In 1995, her youngest son got injured again in a landmine explosion.
"It blew out my child's eye, we spent a lot of time in hospitals. My
eldest son is a doctor at one of Askeran's military units. If we were
in our village I'd show our front posts. In 2006 I entered the army
as a cook. Can't be apart from our guys, from the army," she says.
We are running late so have to stop our interview with Seda, with an
agreement to meet in the morning at breakfast.
A soldier's breakfast: the stew cooked at night, condensed sweet
milk, eggs, butter, cheese, tea. Seda is standing by the doors to
the sleepless kitchen watching the eating area. The duty detail is
laying the tables.
At the unit Seda is not only a chef, but also a caring friend to many
soldiers. They trust their secrets to her, talk to her about their
worries, share thoughts and dreams.
"'Someone's sick' or 'my mom's too worried'... It'd be better if family
members didn't tell everything to their sons who are in the army,
they are children, they get upset, their attention shifts to issues
at home. Most importantly there is no war; let them send their sons
[to the army] with peaceful mind and joy. A while ago one of the boys
got heartbroken as his girlfriend had run away with someone else,"
tells Seda.
The lunch menu for the soldiers includes cabbage salad, soup with beef,
beans and rice, buckwheat porridge and juice.
"They are crazy about sweets. And I should say they don't feel deprived
- we give them pastry, chocolate bars, cookies. On a daily basis a
soldier consumes up to 70 grams of sweets," says Seda. "Meet is a
must. They cook 130 kilograms of meet every day."
Her shift ends at noon. She has a day off before she goes back to
the unit. There are three shifts and two chefs.
"Cooking for a thousand people in a night is not an easy task. Soup,
meet, eggs - it is all cooked at night. I love these guys like my
own children, and start missing them as soon as I get home," says Seda.
From: Baghdasarian