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A CENTURY OF MEMORIES: 100-YEAR OLD BIRTHDAY BOY RECOUNTS A FULL LIFE
http://armenianow.com/society/47469/musa_dagh_franz_werfel_bitius_armenian_genocide
SOCIETY | 04.07.13 | 15:36
NAZIK ARMENAKYAN
ArmeniaNow
By GAYANE MKRTCHYAN
ArmeniaNow reporter
The 100-year-old eyes of Hovhannes turn young with the reflection of
the flickering candlelight on his birthday cake and reveal a fount of
wisdom holding the treasure of past experiences. He stores his endless
memories under closely shut eyelids, makes a whish and blows the
candles on a century of birthdays.
"My life is over, but I keep on living," he says.
His 75-year-old sister Alisa holds the birthday-boy, tears streaming
down both their wrinkled faces. They are surrounded by their children,
grandchildren and great-grandchildren - carriers of the traditions of
the Balabanyan family who came to Echmiadzin from historical Musa Ler
(Musa Dagh, modern day Turkey).
For whichever time he tells the story of Musa Dagh resistance (during
the Armenian Genocide in early 20th century), of the French aid, and
every time waves of tears storm the blue depths of his eyes, his voice
trembles with emotion, as he recalls days bygone, but by far not
forgotten. He stops for a flicker of a moment, takes a deep breath,
then continues the story with dates and names of places remembered
clearly, despite his impressive age.
"Have you read Franz Werfel's 'Forty Days of Musa Dagh'? You know,
don't you, who [Louis] Dartige du Fournet was?" he pauses and only
after my affirmative response carries on with his story. "Musa Ler
people made flags from white bed sheets and wrote in English on them
'Christians in distress: rescue!'. They made a fire so that passing
ships could spot them. The French protected cruiser Guichen appeared
on the horizon facing the mountain [Musa Ler means Mt. Moses in
Armenian] on September 5 of 1915. And on September 14 four other
cruisers under Vice-Admiral Dartige du Fournet rescued around 5,000
Armenians who had taken shelter on Musa Ler." (History books record
around 4,000 rescued.)
The French cruisers took them to Port Said in Egypt, where they lived
for four years in a tent-town. Only in 1919 they were able to return
to their motherland.
Nostalgia and longing for his birthplace Bitias is ever-present in old
Hovhannes's heart.
"There are no other mountains and spring water like ours... my grandpas
Karapet and Movses had built our houses - two-storey with two
entrances, one leading to the garden, the other to the street. The two
brothers shared the same courtyard and the garden; there were 25 of us
and we lived in peace and accord. We left with tears and pain, like if
we had to lock the door of this house and leave now..." he recalls, and
tears again flood his kind face.
Two decades later, in 1939, on July 23, the British diplomacy handed
the state of Alexandretta (Iskenderun) to Turkey, along with Musa Dagh
with its six Armenian villages, making locals leave their native
Bitias (Bitius), Haji Habibli (Khablak), Yoghun Oluk (Oghluk/Keigh),
Kheder Beg (Iddeir), Vakef (Maqef), and Kabusiye (Kabsak) forever and
move to Lebanon's semi-desert village of Anjar.
New roots, new life, but as refugees with no motherland...
Hovhannes's parents Movses and Mariam Balabanyans had seven children -
Hovhannes, Yeghia, Artashes, Habet, Biatris, Alisa. After living in
Anjar for seven years they were repatriated in 1946 to then Soviet
Armenia.
"In 1945 a Soviet delegation came and said a ship would come and take
us to Armenia. All days long we would sing "Odessa ships will come to
Lebanon, Lebanon Armenians will go to Armenia, ay caravan, jan
caravan, go ahead, lead your way". We stopped in Batumi for 12 days,
then took a train to Armenia. We were sent to Echmiadzin, and the
world was ours, because we would be living in Echmiadzin known
worldwide as a holy place," says Hovhannes. (Mother See of Holy
Echmiadzin - the center of the Armenian church where the Catholicos of
All Armenian's lives and where one of the world's oldest Christian
cathedrals was built in early 4th century.)
A few years later, however, Stalin repressions started. He recalls how
a friend of his paid them a night visit and advised not stay home that
night along with their families.
"We spent the night at the monastery, on the tile-stoned floor. It was
July 13 of1949. In the morning I went out, reached the main square in
Echmiadzin and was appalled by the scene - there was weeping and
screaming, people were being taken away... there were natives of Musa
Ler among them too... they were looking for spies among us," he tells.
Just as in Bitias, here in Echmiadzin this time Hovhannes and his
brother build houses side by side. He marries Karine, a girl from Musa
Ler, and has two girls and a boy.
He mentally backwinds his life records and highlights the most
memorable fragments: how due to the efforts of his fellow people from
Musa Ler a memorial was built to honor the Musa Dagh heroic
resistance, where every year on last Sunday of September all the
natives of Musa Ler gather from different parts of the world, they
make traditional harisa (chicken and wheat porridge) and celebrate.
For 40 years he was among those cooking harisa. He was referred to as
'harisa-master' in Echmiadzin.
This annual celebration is fascinating to watch and take part in.
"We make 40 huge pots of harisa with 500 kilos of chicken, 6 kilos per
pot... For the last two years I couldn't do it, my legs have lost their
strength," complains the hundred-year-old man.
He reveals the myth-like origin of his surname Balabanyan.
"One of my grandfathers was a giant who could move huge rocks; he
possessed extraordinary strength, for which people used to tell him:
'Are you a 'balaban' or something?' And balaban means a giant, a very
strong man. So from there on people started calling us balaban, and
that is how our surname came forth," tells Hovhannes with pride in his
ancestors.
His flock has thinned: "There are no buddies of my age left," he says.
He follows the news and comments: "They have destroyed Syria, there is
no Syria anymore... And in Armenia, there is no life left... years ago my
relatives living in the United States offered to take me there, but I
refused. I told them my last nest was here - Ha-yas-tan [Ar-me-ni-a],"
he says.
The century-old man, still full of vigor, has one dream - to see
Bitias one more time before he would close his eyes forever; and for
now every night he falls asleep looking at the photo of his late wife
resting on the bed next to his.
http://armenianow.com/society/47469/musa_dagh_franz_werfel_bitius_armenian_genocide
SOCIETY | 04.07.13 | 15:36
NAZIK ARMENAKYAN
ArmeniaNow
By GAYANE MKRTCHYAN
ArmeniaNow reporter
The 100-year-old eyes of Hovhannes turn young with the reflection of
the flickering candlelight on his birthday cake and reveal a fount of
wisdom holding the treasure of past experiences. He stores his endless
memories under closely shut eyelids, makes a whish and blows the
candles on a century of birthdays.
"My life is over, but I keep on living," he says.
His 75-year-old sister Alisa holds the birthday-boy, tears streaming
down both their wrinkled faces. They are surrounded by their children,
grandchildren and great-grandchildren - carriers of the traditions of
the Balabanyan family who came to Echmiadzin from historical Musa Ler
(Musa Dagh, modern day Turkey).
For whichever time he tells the story of Musa Dagh resistance (during
the Armenian Genocide in early 20th century), of the French aid, and
every time waves of tears storm the blue depths of his eyes, his voice
trembles with emotion, as he recalls days bygone, but by far not
forgotten. He stops for a flicker of a moment, takes a deep breath,
then continues the story with dates and names of places remembered
clearly, despite his impressive age.
"Have you read Franz Werfel's 'Forty Days of Musa Dagh'? You know,
don't you, who [Louis] Dartige du Fournet was?" he pauses and only
after my affirmative response carries on with his story. "Musa Ler
people made flags from white bed sheets and wrote in English on them
'Christians in distress: rescue!'. They made a fire so that passing
ships could spot them. The French protected cruiser Guichen appeared
on the horizon facing the mountain [Musa Ler means Mt. Moses in
Armenian] on September 5 of 1915. And on September 14 four other
cruisers under Vice-Admiral Dartige du Fournet rescued around 5,000
Armenians who had taken shelter on Musa Ler." (History books record
around 4,000 rescued.)
The French cruisers took them to Port Said in Egypt, where they lived
for four years in a tent-town. Only in 1919 they were able to return
to their motherland.
Nostalgia and longing for his birthplace Bitias is ever-present in old
Hovhannes's heart.
"There are no other mountains and spring water like ours... my grandpas
Karapet and Movses had built our houses - two-storey with two
entrances, one leading to the garden, the other to the street. The two
brothers shared the same courtyard and the garden; there were 25 of us
and we lived in peace and accord. We left with tears and pain, like if
we had to lock the door of this house and leave now..." he recalls, and
tears again flood his kind face.
Two decades later, in 1939, on July 23, the British diplomacy handed
the state of Alexandretta (Iskenderun) to Turkey, along with Musa Dagh
with its six Armenian villages, making locals leave their native
Bitias (Bitius), Haji Habibli (Khablak), Yoghun Oluk (Oghluk/Keigh),
Kheder Beg (Iddeir), Vakef (Maqef), and Kabusiye (Kabsak) forever and
move to Lebanon's semi-desert village of Anjar.
New roots, new life, but as refugees with no motherland...
Hovhannes's parents Movses and Mariam Balabanyans had seven children -
Hovhannes, Yeghia, Artashes, Habet, Biatris, Alisa. After living in
Anjar for seven years they were repatriated in 1946 to then Soviet
Armenia.
"In 1945 a Soviet delegation came and said a ship would come and take
us to Armenia. All days long we would sing "Odessa ships will come to
Lebanon, Lebanon Armenians will go to Armenia, ay caravan, jan
caravan, go ahead, lead your way". We stopped in Batumi for 12 days,
then took a train to Armenia. We were sent to Echmiadzin, and the
world was ours, because we would be living in Echmiadzin known
worldwide as a holy place," says Hovhannes. (Mother See of Holy
Echmiadzin - the center of the Armenian church where the Catholicos of
All Armenian's lives and where one of the world's oldest Christian
cathedrals was built in early 4th century.)
A few years later, however, Stalin repressions started. He recalls how
a friend of his paid them a night visit and advised not stay home that
night along with their families.
"We spent the night at the monastery, on the tile-stoned floor. It was
July 13 of1949. In the morning I went out, reached the main square in
Echmiadzin and was appalled by the scene - there was weeping and
screaming, people were being taken away... there were natives of Musa
Ler among them too... they were looking for spies among us," he tells.
Just as in Bitias, here in Echmiadzin this time Hovhannes and his
brother build houses side by side. He marries Karine, a girl from Musa
Ler, and has two girls and a boy.
He mentally backwinds his life records and highlights the most
memorable fragments: how due to the efforts of his fellow people from
Musa Ler a memorial was built to honor the Musa Dagh heroic
resistance, where every year on last Sunday of September all the
natives of Musa Ler gather from different parts of the world, they
make traditional harisa (chicken and wheat porridge) and celebrate.
For 40 years he was among those cooking harisa. He was referred to as
'harisa-master' in Echmiadzin.
This annual celebration is fascinating to watch and take part in.
"We make 40 huge pots of harisa with 500 kilos of chicken, 6 kilos per
pot... For the last two years I couldn't do it, my legs have lost their
strength," complains the hundred-year-old man.
He reveals the myth-like origin of his surname Balabanyan.
"One of my grandfathers was a giant who could move huge rocks; he
possessed extraordinary strength, for which people used to tell him:
'Are you a 'balaban' or something?' And balaban means a giant, a very
strong man. So from there on people started calling us balaban, and
that is how our surname came forth," tells Hovhannes with pride in his
ancestors.
His flock has thinned: "There are no buddies of my age left," he says.
He follows the news and comments: "They have destroyed Syria, there is
no Syria anymore... And in Armenia, there is no life left... years ago my
relatives living in the United States offered to take me there, but I
refused. I told them my last nest was here - Ha-yas-tan [Ar-me-ni-a],"
he says.
The century-old man, still full of vigor, has one dream - to see
Bitias one more time before he would close his eyes forever; and for
now every night he falls asleep looking at the photo of his late wife
resting on the bed next to his.