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A Visit to Azatek: The challenge of holding a village together
http://armenianow.com/society/features/54634/armenia_emigration_vayots_dzor_azatek_nagorno_kara bakh
FEATURES | 23.05.14 | 15:09
NAZIK ARMENAKYAN
ArmeniaNow
By GAYANE MKRTCHYAN
ArmeniaNow reporter
In the Armenia village of Azatek, houses lean into the mountain slopes
like pearls; some next to each other, and some holding their own
space. Embracing earth and sky the village stands proud, though torn
apart by emigration that has separated families and community.
About 145 kilometers from Yerevan, Azatek is small but mighty, with
villagers of strong hearts, who continue living and breathing life
into the village against great odds.
"I won't go, I fought for this land, during the harshest years of war
- 1992-94. I should leave? Where to? How about my house, my children,
my mother, all this?" says a father of three Tatul Sayadyan, 48, and
adds "Thank God, there are no shuttered doors in the village, just
some men leave for seasonal migrant labor.
Along comes Tatul's 79-year-old mother, Zarmandukht Movsisyan and
seeing the guests says with a typical Khoyetsi accent, "Let your visit
be successful for us, we'll honor your visit and you'll go in peace,
and let the world be in peace."
She tries to remember the names of the Russian cities where her other
sons and grandsons are - Astrakhan, Voronezh, Moscow, Rostov...
The peace of Azatek is entangled in Zarmandukht's eyes, mixed with
memories of better times in the Soviet era. Tatul speaks of problems
and concerns, and on the whims of nature when working with the land -
one year brings draught, one year, frostbite; no irrigation water,
gardens dry out . . .
"We have good gardens of apple, apricot, pear, our apricot is bought
by the Georgians . . . But last year, because of extremely hot
weather, it ripened so much we could barely make apricot vodka, I wish
we still had some for you to try, you'd never forget the taste, there
won't be any for this year, everything got frostbitten," says Tatul
with a smile.
Instead of apricot vodka, a compote of apricot and walnut appears on
the table. The conversation is interrupted by the noise of walnut
breaking in Tatul's palms. "At least there is youth in the village."
>From its height of 1,640 meters above sea level one can see the 17th
century St. Stepanos church from every corner of the village, which
was restored in 1828 by Armenians who migrated from Khoy and Salmast.
The 130 families of the village total some 400 residents. A part of
Azatek men have left for migrant labor to Nagorno-Karabakh.
"They do construction work, coming back home at least once a month.
It's closer, we don't miss them too much," says a mother of two,
34-year-old Lusine Manukyan, who lives with her husband's elderly
parents.
"There is no job... before, there was Soviet farm, collective farm...
what's now? We live with the hope of pension, which is spent on gas,
electricity, phone, hay, water... what's left? Nothing to live on, and I
don't want to hear about Russia . . ." says one of the elders, waiting
for the son to return from Karabakh.
The village store is 30 years old. The only advertisement on the store
window says "To Russia." A cheap service offers transport to Voronezh,
Minvodi and up till Krasnodar, Touapse and Sochi.
"A few left just yesterday, there is no future here, no use from the
land, no water, no technologies, farming is expensive, they can't
stand it any longer, so they leave. They borrow food, having money
from time to time - when there is pension - or they kill an animal, or
find money from somewhere else, so they pay back their debts," says
the owner of the store, Karbid Petrosyan.
Zhanetta Nersisyan, 56, lives with her two daughters-in-law and
grandchildren. Her sons have been to Russia for the last ten years.
"The best years are gone," says Zhanetta. "My husband was a driver in
the village, I was a teacher, my father-in-law was a postman, we still
could live. Now everyone leaves, I am against this, I tell them to
come back, but on the other hand what should they do - family,
children, and wife. My youngest son returns earlier, in October, the
elder one, I'm afraid, won't ever return... we miss them, I wonder what
the President (Serzh Sargsyan) is thinking about this. The country is
falling apart - they will get registered in Russia within three
months, if they refuse Armenian citizenship, and Armenia will remain
with nothing."
There is internal war in Azatek, with each family fighting the battle
to stay or to leave. One wants to encourage those who stay, and give
strength to the families of those who left. Women are nervous, elderly
live with wet eyes, children are worriless, but still in expectations.
"Are we all going to leave, shouldn't something change finally? The
land is ours, and it must be lived in, mustn't it?" says Tatul as a
farewell.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
http://armenianow.com/society/features/54634/armenia_emigration_vayots_dzor_azatek_nagorno_kara bakh
FEATURES | 23.05.14 | 15:09
NAZIK ARMENAKYAN
ArmeniaNow
By GAYANE MKRTCHYAN
ArmeniaNow reporter
In the Armenia village of Azatek, houses lean into the mountain slopes
like pearls; some next to each other, and some holding their own
space. Embracing earth and sky the village stands proud, though torn
apart by emigration that has separated families and community.
About 145 kilometers from Yerevan, Azatek is small but mighty, with
villagers of strong hearts, who continue living and breathing life
into the village against great odds.
"I won't go, I fought for this land, during the harshest years of war
- 1992-94. I should leave? Where to? How about my house, my children,
my mother, all this?" says a father of three Tatul Sayadyan, 48, and
adds "Thank God, there are no shuttered doors in the village, just
some men leave for seasonal migrant labor.
Along comes Tatul's 79-year-old mother, Zarmandukht Movsisyan and
seeing the guests says with a typical Khoyetsi accent, "Let your visit
be successful for us, we'll honor your visit and you'll go in peace,
and let the world be in peace."
She tries to remember the names of the Russian cities where her other
sons and grandsons are - Astrakhan, Voronezh, Moscow, Rostov...
The peace of Azatek is entangled in Zarmandukht's eyes, mixed with
memories of better times in the Soviet era. Tatul speaks of problems
and concerns, and on the whims of nature when working with the land -
one year brings draught, one year, frostbite; no irrigation water,
gardens dry out . . .
"We have good gardens of apple, apricot, pear, our apricot is bought
by the Georgians . . . But last year, because of extremely hot
weather, it ripened so much we could barely make apricot vodka, I wish
we still had some for you to try, you'd never forget the taste, there
won't be any for this year, everything got frostbitten," says Tatul
with a smile.
Instead of apricot vodka, a compote of apricot and walnut appears on
the table. The conversation is interrupted by the noise of walnut
breaking in Tatul's palms. "At least there is youth in the village."
>From its height of 1,640 meters above sea level one can see the 17th
century St. Stepanos church from every corner of the village, which
was restored in 1828 by Armenians who migrated from Khoy and Salmast.
The 130 families of the village total some 400 residents. A part of
Azatek men have left for migrant labor to Nagorno-Karabakh.
"They do construction work, coming back home at least once a month.
It's closer, we don't miss them too much," says a mother of two,
34-year-old Lusine Manukyan, who lives with her husband's elderly
parents.
"There is no job... before, there was Soviet farm, collective farm...
what's now? We live with the hope of pension, which is spent on gas,
electricity, phone, hay, water... what's left? Nothing to live on, and I
don't want to hear about Russia . . ." says one of the elders, waiting
for the son to return from Karabakh.
The village store is 30 years old. The only advertisement on the store
window says "To Russia." A cheap service offers transport to Voronezh,
Minvodi and up till Krasnodar, Touapse and Sochi.
"A few left just yesterday, there is no future here, no use from the
land, no water, no technologies, farming is expensive, they can't
stand it any longer, so they leave. They borrow food, having money
from time to time - when there is pension - or they kill an animal, or
find money from somewhere else, so they pay back their debts," says
the owner of the store, Karbid Petrosyan.
Zhanetta Nersisyan, 56, lives with her two daughters-in-law and
grandchildren. Her sons have been to Russia for the last ten years.
"The best years are gone," says Zhanetta. "My husband was a driver in
the village, I was a teacher, my father-in-law was a postman, we still
could live. Now everyone leaves, I am against this, I tell them to
come back, but on the other hand what should they do - family,
children, and wife. My youngest son returns earlier, in October, the
elder one, I'm afraid, won't ever return... we miss them, I wonder what
the President (Serzh Sargsyan) is thinking about this. The country is
falling apart - they will get registered in Russia within three
months, if they refuse Armenian citizenship, and Armenia will remain
with nothing."
There is internal war in Azatek, with each family fighting the battle
to stay or to leave. One wants to encourage those who stay, and give
strength to the families of those who left. Women are nervous, elderly
live with wet eyes, children are worriless, but still in expectations.
"Are we all going to leave, shouldn't something change finally? The
land is ours, and it must be lived in, mustn't it?" says Tatul as a
farewell.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress