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The Youth of Karabakh: Concerned for the present, committed to the future
http://armenianow.com/karabakh/44274/karabakh_25th_anniversary_youth_artsakh_state_univ ersity
KARABAKH 25: BUILDING A REPUBLIC | 07.03.13 | 22:00
NAZIK ARMENAKYAN
ArmeniaNow
Young people in Stepanakert at a Halloween party at the Stendal disco.
By Gohar Abrahamyan and Lusine Musayelyan
Not too long ago, would it seem possible that youth in Nagorno
Karabakh would now be celebrating Halloween - dressing as ghouls and
goblins and ghosts in this war-worn country?
This Halloween, they did.
And the simple - and yet astounding - act of self-expression is
indicative of how one generation which may never outgrow the impact of
war, has at least developed an outward world view and a spirit that
embraces freedom.
Enlarge Photo
Vatche Kocharian, 17
Enlarge Photo
Olga Davidian, 18
Enlarge Photo
Arsen Ohanjyan, 22
Enlarge Photo
Anzhelica Zakharyan
Enlarge Photo
Vitya Yaramishian, ASU Pro-Rector on Student Affairs
Enlarge Photo
Artsakh State University
According to Suren Sarumian, editor-in-chief of Martik (Warrior)
official newspaper of NKR Defense Army, there is a stratum of society
in Karabakh who were robbed of their childhood and youth because of
war.
`The difference between the pre-war and post-war generations is huge,'
says Sarumian, 35. `I used to be `oktyabrenok' (Soviet elementary
school students prior to becoming pioneers), then a pioneer (youth
communists). I read about Vladimir Ilyich Lenin in school textbooks
that cited him as a role model. Meanwhile the source of inspiration
for our children now are our national heroes. These children opened
their eyes in an independent country, born with knowledge that this is
their motherland, with a sense that they are the owners of this land,'
says Sarumian.
He says that despite environmental differences, there cannot be a big
philosophical gap between residents of capital Stepanakert and those
of Karabakh villages, because the city center `is a thirty-minute ride
>From the `war', the frontline, and everybody is well aware where they
live'. Meanwhile in Yerevan many have trouble imagining what life is
like outside the capital. To many `motherland' is limited to Yerevan.
In Artsakh (NKR's historic name) the war factor unites people one way
or another.
During the turbulent days of the Karabakh war, in 1992 the branch of
Azerbaijan's Lenin Pedagogic Institute (opened in Stepanakert in 1969)
was turned into Artsakh State University (ASU).
In 1988-92 the university headquarters hosted a battalion. Once
ceasefire was signed and the war ended, the building underwent
large-scale reconstruction and today offers education in six
faculties, has 21 chairs with 338 teaching personnel and more than
4,700 undergraduate and post-graduate students.
The university premises are now fully furnished and upgraded, equipped
with modern laboratories and other facilities. Right in front of the
main building there is a café with large, tall umbrellas, and offering
free WiFi. Finding a vacant table in the second half of the day is
almost impossible.
Vitya Yaramishian, ASU Pro-Rector on Student Affairs, assures that a
bright generation of students is now getting higher education at the
university.
The 50-year-old pro-rector smiles at recollections of his Soviet-era
youth. But he says he envies the freedom Karabakhi young people enjoy
today.
`When we were young, we didn't have that many troubles, everything was
decided for us and went smooth - from elementary school to higher
education, then employment,' Yaramishian says. `Today's youth have a
hard time deciding what career to choose, being free in their
decisions because they live in a free country, which is the greatest
achievement.'
Yaramishian, who has PhD in psychology, says war haunts those who have
ever witnessed it for the rest of their lives.
`During the early years after the war my family and I went to Yerevan
for a few days. The house we were staying at was in a district next to
the airport and every time my five-year-old daughter would hear the
sound of airplanes landing or taking off, she'd hide behind her
mommy's skirt. Even now she stiffens when hearing loud sounds,' he
says.
Deep traces
Anzhelica Zakharian, born two months before the ceasefire was signed
in May of 1994, is now a student at ASU, and is president of the ASU
Student Union. She remembers nothing from the war, but says it has
nonetheless left deep traces and it will take a long time for those
wounds to scar.
`My grandpa died in the war; my father was wounded. You probably won't
find a single family in Artsakh which hasn't lost a family member, and
those losses have affected us greatly. One could say we have not
`returned from the war' yet,' says the18-year-old, adding that her
choice of curriculum, political science, has been determined by her
concerns over the yet-unresolved Karabakh conflict. `My parents, my
ancestors have fought hard for these lands, and I want to have my
contribution to the diplomatic side of that struggle.'
In 2011, together with her friends Zakharian founded Azat Artsakh
(Free Artsakh) youth NGO, dealing with environmental issues and
arranging cultural events aimed at encouraging patriotism in younger
generations.
The Non Governmental Organization (NGO) has more than 50 members.
Gayane Ohanian, a native of Hadrut, works as assistant to the Rector
at Grigor Narekatsi college, founded in 1996 in Stepanakert. The
23-year-old associates the war with memories of her father who in
those years was helping defend the borders of his homeland.
`I have very little recollection of the war, only my father's beard
and his green uniform, which had this very unpleasant odor about it -
a mixture of blood and mould,' Gayane recalls. `I remember the sound
of explosions and the basements, full of children like me, but we were
silent and didn't play like regular children.'
After the war Gayane's family left for the Ukraine, however longing
for their motherland made them go back to native Hadrut and start
carving their future there.
`After the war we started recovering very slowly, but if there hadn't
been war we would have been much more advanced now,' says the young
professor. `We lost a lot during those years. People had built nice
houses, had good jobs. But then somebody lost a father, a son. Those
children who lost their parents are now of my age and it's very
challenging for them to get to their feet on their own. If not for the
war they might have been living a well-provided life by now.'
`Well provided' is a relative term, as standards of living and
lifestyle are widely different in Stepanakert than anywhere else in
Karabakh.
`Be like us . . .'
Young people in Karabakh - or at least a sampling in Stepanakert - are
convinced that they yield nothing to their peers living in European
and more developed countries.
They have to experience some restrictions typical of an unrecognized
country (and frequent references to war are no coincidence). Still, it
seems the majority are unexpectedly optimistic and active. If fashion
is an indicator, the mood of Karabakhi youth has improved, as the
muted colors for girls and black for boys no longer own the market.
Black still prevails for the male population, but even some boys now
add a bit of `splash' to their style.
Vatche Kocharian, 17, says he has grown accustomed to getting stares,
because he doesn't dress only in black and because his hairstyle
(slightly spiky) is considered radical for Karabakh.
`In Yerevan, for example, there isn't such a problem anymore, they are
more liberal in this sense,' he says, adding that if he had such an
opportunity he would like to live in another country for some time,
get a foreign education and maybe be useful to his homeland from
abroad.
Vatche says that he always is surprised when he hears that in other
countries people think that Stepanakert is a war zone riddled with
trenches and people getting shot here all day long.
`I'm even convinced that no new war will start. The war is going on
between diplomats, because nobody wants hostilities again. No one,
either in Azerbaijan or Karabakh, would want their posh (by Karabakh
standards) homes built during these 20 years to be bombed,' the
teenager says.
Young people who met recently at Stepanakert Music College to speak
with AGBU's correspondent, say they don't want to lose faith in the
future of their republic, even as faith in the current peace process
is waning.
`My parents have told me a lot about the terrible years of war,' says
Olga Davidian, an 18-year-old student at ASU's Tourism Studies
Department, whose family moved, briefly, to Moscow. `Even after all
the hardship here, we couldn't quite adjust to living in Moscow. We
returned to Karabakh and do not want to go anywhere, we want to be
living here always.'
Olga, who still sports pigtails, says she has dreamed of a day when
her coevals in Yerevan and other Armenian cities and towns would envy
her: `Because they will try to emulate us, be informed as much as we
are, be hardworking and advanced as we are. I know it will be so one
day, we are taught to be like this,' she says.
Olga says that all the current talk of renewed war makes her very
afraid, but deep down she is confident that there will be no war.
`I think that our people and the Azeris do not want a new war.
Besides, other countries have already started to deal with our
conflict and I always hear on television that they call for
maintaining peace,' she says.
Arsen Ohanjian, 22, is also convinced that Azerbaijan will not dare to
resort to war.
`What did they (Azerbaijan) gain from the previous war and why are
they confident that this time they will win? If they wanted to start a
war, they would have started it long ago,' says Arsen, who was born in
Martakert and has lived and worked in Stepanakert for a few years now.
He says he has to have a multiple jobs to save up money in order to get married.
`Every young man in Karabakh ought to create a family. We need to have
a larger population. The government encourages this, but we, too, have
to work on it and not be lazy,' says Arsen, adding that he has had
opportunities to work abroad, but does not acutely feel the need to
leave yet.
`What will be the good of the money I earn if I have to live without
the woman I love, without my friends and family? What should I do with
that high salary if I have to stay alone in a foreign country?' he
asks rhetorically. He says, too, that some of his friends have left,
but: `Whoever has gone abroad has either come back or is saving up
money for a return.'
Less than 10 miles from capital Stepanakert, 20-year old Nelli
Arzumanian says the youth of Shushi are more isolated than those in
nearby Stepanakert. Still, she exemplifies the determination of her
Karabakhi peers.
Nelli's family comes from the village of Seisulan (Martakert
province), which, today, is in a neutral zone between Azerbaijan and
Karabakh.
Nelli's father took part in the battles of self-defense. When the
village fell to Azeris, the family fled to Shushi, leaving the house
and all their property behind.
Nelli says that living in Shushi, where the damage of war is striking,
almost two decades after ceasefire, she certainly feels the threat of
war.
`Now we are in a state of war too, we live in an unrecognized
republic, we often get bad news from frontline positions. Soldiers get
killed by Azeri snipers, there is a threat everyday that war will
resume. It means that we are at war already,' says Nelli, adding that
>From time to time people start talking about an imminent resumption of
hostilities and such conversations are becoming a cause for concern.
`Last spring and summer after several attempted commando attacks by
Azeris at the borders with Armenia and Artsakh, the talk of an
impending war resumed and at one point I, too, wanted to go to some
safe place,' says Nelli, who is an assistant in the Shushi mayor's
office. `But then I looked at what has been done by my parents during
20 years - the house, all these conveniences, there is no leaving all
this.'
In recent years Arzumanian has had different proposals to leave
Karabakh. She has many relatives in Russia. She has also traveled
abroad to attend various education programs and keeps in touch with
young people she has met in other countries.
But as for herself:
`I can't imagine my life abroad, I can't imagine that I could go away
and not return. I want to get married at Ghazanchetsots (church), live
in one of the old historic buildings of Shushi and raise my children
there.'
From: A. Papazian
http://armenianow.com/karabakh/44274/karabakh_25th_anniversary_youth_artsakh_state_univ ersity
KARABAKH 25: BUILDING A REPUBLIC | 07.03.13 | 22:00
NAZIK ARMENAKYAN
ArmeniaNow
Young people in Stepanakert at a Halloween party at the Stendal disco.
By Gohar Abrahamyan and Lusine Musayelyan
Not too long ago, would it seem possible that youth in Nagorno
Karabakh would now be celebrating Halloween - dressing as ghouls and
goblins and ghosts in this war-worn country?
This Halloween, they did.
And the simple - and yet astounding - act of self-expression is
indicative of how one generation which may never outgrow the impact of
war, has at least developed an outward world view and a spirit that
embraces freedom.
Enlarge Photo
Vatche Kocharian, 17
Enlarge Photo
Olga Davidian, 18
Enlarge Photo
Arsen Ohanjyan, 22
Enlarge Photo
Anzhelica Zakharyan
Enlarge Photo
Vitya Yaramishian, ASU Pro-Rector on Student Affairs
Enlarge Photo
Artsakh State University
According to Suren Sarumian, editor-in-chief of Martik (Warrior)
official newspaper of NKR Defense Army, there is a stratum of society
in Karabakh who were robbed of their childhood and youth because of
war.
`The difference between the pre-war and post-war generations is huge,'
says Sarumian, 35. `I used to be `oktyabrenok' (Soviet elementary
school students prior to becoming pioneers), then a pioneer (youth
communists). I read about Vladimir Ilyich Lenin in school textbooks
that cited him as a role model. Meanwhile the source of inspiration
for our children now are our national heroes. These children opened
their eyes in an independent country, born with knowledge that this is
their motherland, with a sense that they are the owners of this land,'
says Sarumian.
He says that despite environmental differences, there cannot be a big
philosophical gap between residents of capital Stepanakert and those
of Karabakh villages, because the city center `is a thirty-minute ride
>From the `war', the frontline, and everybody is well aware where they
live'. Meanwhile in Yerevan many have trouble imagining what life is
like outside the capital. To many `motherland' is limited to Yerevan.
In Artsakh (NKR's historic name) the war factor unites people one way
or another.
During the turbulent days of the Karabakh war, in 1992 the branch of
Azerbaijan's Lenin Pedagogic Institute (opened in Stepanakert in 1969)
was turned into Artsakh State University (ASU).
In 1988-92 the university headquarters hosted a battalion. Once
ceasefire was signed and the war ended, the building underwent
large-scale reconstruction and today offers education in six
faculties, has 21 chairs with 338 teaching personnel and more than
4,700 undergraduate and post-graduate students.
The university premises are now fully furnished and upgraded, equipped
with modern laboratories and other facilities. Right in front of the
main building there is a café with large, tall umbrellas, and offering
free WiFi. Finding a vacant table in the second half of the day is
almost impossible.
Vitya Yaramishian, ASU Pro-Rector on Student Affairs, assures that a
bright generation of students is now getting higher education at the
university.
The 50-year-old pro-rector smiles at recollections of his Soviet-era
youth. But he says he envies the freedom Karabakhi young people enjoy
today.
`When we were young, we didn't have that many troubles, everything was
decided for us and went smooth - from elementary school to higher
education, then employment,' Yaramishian says. `Today's youth have a
hard time deciding what career to choose, being free in their
decisions because they live in a free country, which is the greatest
achievement.'
Yaramishian, who has PhD in psychology, says war haunts those who have
ever witnessed it for the rest of their lives.
`During the early years after the war my family and I went to Yerevan
for a few days. The house we were staying at was in a district next to
the airport and every time my five-year-old daughter would hear the
sound of airplanes landing or taking off, she'd hide behind her
mommy's skirt. Even now she stiffens when hearing loud sounds,' he
says.
Deep traces
Anzhelica Zakharian, born two months before the ceasefire was signed
in May of 1994, is now a student at ASU, and is president of the ASU
Student Union. She remembers nothing from the war, but says it has
nonetheless left deep traces and it will take a long time for those
wounds to scar.
`My grandpa died in the war; my father was wounded. You probably won't
find a single family in Artsakh which hasn't lost a family member, and
those losses have affected us greatly. One could say we have not
`returned from the war' yet,' says the18-year-old, adding that her
choice of curriculum, political science, has been determined by her
concerns over the yet-unresolved Karabakh conflict. `My parents, my
ancestors have fought hard for these lands, and I want to have my
contribution to the diplomatic side of that struggle.'
In 2011, together with her friends Zakharian founded Azat Artsakh
(Free Artsakh) youth NGO, dealing with environmental issues and
arranging cultural events aimed at encouraging patriotism in younger
generations.
The Non Governmental Organization (NGO) has more than 50 members.
Gayane Ohanian, a native of Hadrut, works as assistant to the Rector
at Grigor Narekatsi college, founded in 1996 in Stepanakert. The
23-year-old associates the war with memories of her father who in
those years was helping defend the borders of his homeland.
`I have very little recollection of the war, only my father's beard
and his green uniform, which had this very unpleasant odor about it -
a mixture of blood and mould,' Gayane recalls. `I remember the sound
of explosions and the basements, full of children like me, but we were
silent and didn't play like regular children.'
After the war Gayane's family left for the Ukraine, however longing
for their motherland made them go back to native Hadrut and start
carving their future there.
`After the war we started recovering very slowly, but if there hadn't
been war we would have been much more advanced now,' says the young
professor. `We lost a lot during those years. People had built nice
houses, had good jobs. But then somebody lost a father, a son. Those
children who lost their parents are now of my age and it's very
challenging for them to get to their feet on their own. If not for the
war they might have been living a well-provided life by now.'
`Well provided' is a relative term, as standards of living and
lifestyle are widely different in Stepanakert than anywhere else in
Karabakh.
`Be like us . . .'
Young people in Karabakh - or at least a sampling in Stepanakert - are
convinced that they yield nothing to their peers living in European
and more developed countries.
They have to experience some restrictions typical of an unrecognized
country (and frequent references to war are no coincidence). Still, it
seems the majority are unexpectedly optimistic and active. If fashion
is an indicator, the mood of Karabakhi youth has improved, as the
muted colors for girls and black for boys no longer own the market.
Black still prevails for the male population, but even some boys now
add a bit of `splash' to their style.
Vatche Kocharian, 17, says he has grown accustomed to getting stares,
because he doesn't dress only in black and because his hairstyle
(slightly spiky) is considered radical for Karabakh.
`In Yerevan, for example, there isn't such a problem anymore, they are
more liberal in this sense,' he says, adding that if he had such an
opportunity he would like to live in another country for some time,
get a foreign education and maybe be useful to his homeland from
abroad.
Vatche says that he always is surprised when he hears that in other
countries people think that Stepanakert is a war zone riddled with
trenches and people getting shot here all day long.
`I'm even convinced that no new war will start. The war is going on
between diplomats, because nobody wants hostilities again. No one,
either in Azerbaijan or Karabakh, would want their posh (by Karabakh
standards) homes built during these 20 years to be bombed,' the
teenager says.
Young people who met recently at Stepanakert Music College to speak
with AGBU's correspondent, say they don't want to lose faith in the
future of their republic, even as faith in the current peace process
is waning.
`My parents have told me a lot about the terrible years of war,' says
Olga Davidian, an 18-year-old student at ASU's Tourism Studies
Department, whose family moved, briefly, to Moscow. `Even after all
the hardship here, we couldn't quite adjust to living in Moscow. We
returned to Karabakh and do not want to go anywhere, we want to be
living here always.'
Olga, who still sports pigtails, says she has dreamed of a day when
her coevals in Yerevan and other Armenian cities and towns would envy
her: `Because they will try to emulate us, be informed as much as we
are, be hardworking and advanced as we are. I know it will be so one
day, we are taught to be like this,' she says.
Olga says that all the current talk of renewed war makes her very
afraid, but deep down she is confident that there will be no war.
`I think that our people and the Azeris do not want a new war.
Besides, other countries have already started to deal with our
conflict and I always hear on television that they call for
maintaining peace,' she says.
Arsen Ohanjian, 22, is also convinced that Azerbaijan will not dare to
resort to war.
`What did they (Azerbaijan) gain from the previous war and why are
they confident that this time they will win? If they wanted to start a
war, they would have started it long ago,' says Arsen, who was born in
Martakert and has lived and worked in Stepanakert for a few years now.
He says he has to have a multiple jobs to save up money in order to get married.
`Every young man in Karabakh ought to create a family. We need to have
a larger population. The government encourages this, but we, too, have
to work on it and not be lazy,' says Arsen, adding that he has had
opportunities to work abroad, but does not acutely feel the need to
leave yet.
`What will be the good of the money I earn if I have to live without
the woman I love, without my friends and family? What should I do with
that high salary if I have to stay alone in a foreign country?' he
asks rhetorically. He says, too, that some of his friends have left,
but: `Whoever has gone abroad has either come back or is saving up
money for a return.'
Less than 10 miles from capital Stepanakert, 20-year old Nelli
Arzumanian says the youth of Shushi are more isolated than those in
nearby Stepanakert. Still, she exemplifies the determination of her
Karabakhi peers.
Nelli's family comes from the village of Seisulan (Martakert
province), which, today, is in a neutral zone between Azerbaijan and
Karabakh.
Nelli's father took part in the battles of self-defense. When the
village fell to Azeris, the family fled to Shushi, leaving the house
and all their property behind.
Nelli says that living in Shushi, where the damage of war is striking,
almost two decades after ceasefire, she certainly feels the threat of
war.
`Now we are in a state of war too, we live in an unrecognized
republic, we often get bad news from frontline positions. Soldiers get
killed by Azeri snipers, there is a threat everyday that war will
resume. It means that we are at war already,' says Nelli, adding that
>From time to time people start talking about an imminent resumption of
hostilities and such conversations are becoming a cause for concern.
`Last spring and summer after several attempted commando attacks by
Azeris at the borders with Armenia and Artsakh, the talk of an
impending war resumed and at one point I, too, wanted to go to some
safe place,' says Nelli, who is an assistant in the Shushi mayor's
office. `But then I looked at what has been done by my parents during
20 years - the house, all these conveniences, there is no leaving all
this.'
In recent years Arzumanian has had different proposals to leave
Karabakh. She has many relatives in Russia. She has also traveled
abroad to attend various education programs and keeps in touch with
young people she has met in other countries.
But as for herself:
`I can't imagine my life abroad, I can't imagine that I could go away
and not return. I want to get married at Ghazanchetsots (church), live
in one of the old historic buildings of Shushi and raise my children
there.'
From: A. Papazian