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Heading to Artsakh: In the Company of Ronin
12:19, March 9, 2015
During the feudal period of Japan (1185-1868), a rÅ~Mnin (浪aºº?) was
classified as a samurai who did not have a lord or master. A samurai
would become a rÅ~Mnin upon the death, fall or loss of privilege of
the master.
A few days ago, I received a phone call from an older friend inviting
me to attend the 27th anniversary commemoration of the Sumgait
anti-Armenian pogroms, which was to take place in Nagorno-Kharabagh
(Artsakh).
Upon agreeing, I arrived at the Ashtarak city center at 7:00 am and
was immediately greeted by a large group of men. We were soon sorted
into various commuter buses and embarked on the long drive to Artsakh.
I soon came to realize that I was traveling to Artsakh in a bus full of
veterans from the Artsakh War. Initially, their demeanor took me aback.
These were not the azadamardeegs (freedom fighters) that songs and
folklore had been written about. Neither were they the azadamardeegs
whose pictures we glorified and names we remembered.
These were the very villagers who took up arms at the beck and call
and stood ground in unknown forests to protect their homes and people
from the cold hand of aggression. I recalled the documentaries filmed
by Tsvetana Paskaleva, which I had seen years earlier at the Pasadena
Armenian Center. These were the very men from the screen, shuffling
between trees and tanks, smoking cigarettes and driving towards the
frontlines as caravans of people sought refuge in the other direction.
During the first rest stop, our caravan organized an impromptu lunch
where everyone contributed something from their "shepherd's meal
bag," creating an impressive spread of bread, cheese, boiled eggs,
pickles and homemade vodka. Glasses were filled, toasts were said and,
after a few cycles of the repeated process, the caravan was ready to
move forward.
As we continued down the road, the singing commenced and was
followed by storytelling reminiscent of the war, while all of this
was accompanied by, of course, more drinking. I was traveling in the
company of heroes, but these men were a far cry from elitist soldiers.
Untrained, ill equipped and inexperienced, these first-responders
mustered up whatever was available and put up the fight of their
lives. Now, they were reuniting at the very site of their victory,
celebrating their victories and commemorating the ones that they could
not save. The gravity of their experiences was written on their tired
and weathered faces. I soon came to learn that alcohol dependency
substituted medical care for many of these men, as many became reliant
on the bottle as a way of dealing with untreated ailments. These men
exhibited the whole gamut of emotions: from being visibly emotional
at times to scenes of friendly nostalgia.
They laughed, cried, poked fun at each other, and remembered
the good old days. All of their emotions blended in a beautiful
cohesion of their past valor being tied to a current, tangible
land that came to fruition due to their efforts. In Shushi, they
joined the new generation in song and celebration, truly enjoying
the well-deserved heroes welcome organized for them. Pride and joy
emerged in Stepanakert, clearly affirming that these men were ready
and willing to serve again, should the need arise.
As we were descending from Shushi, one of these men pointed to
a collection of sculptures made by a group of European sculptors
and proudly claimed that the children of Shushi made them. Without
hesitation, I commented of their great beauty and withheld my urge to
affirm their European origin. The delegation that had installed these
sculptors had been contested by Azerbaijan several years earlier,
which claimed that the artists did not have the proper paperwork to
install such a project. I came to realize that these men were the
embodiment of the spirit and guardians of the Armenian mountains. The
hope that Armenian children would create and thrive on this land was
what led them to the battlefield 25 years ago. One could not have the
audacity to argue of such matters with the very men whose stouthearted
grit was the sole reason of that land's existence.
While continuing the festivities on our return trip, we were surprised
to find out that one of the men who had been traveling with us was
Karen Mshetsi, whose soulful singing made the night unforgettable. As
the night progressed and the singing soon dwindled out, the
conversations became more personal. These men shared their stories.
Many had not gone to school or earned a fancy title at work. Most of
these people still were suffering from psychological and physiological
trauma as a remnant of the war. Many lived in remote villages that
received little consideration and even fewer visitors.
These men are the RÅ~Mnin of the Armenian mountains. They are the
forgotten ones. They are the ones whose names are not mentioned in
songs. They are the ones who did not make it into the books of the
defense ministry or onto any veterans list. They simply sacrificed
and fought for the independence of Artsakh and then went home to
rebuild their lives.
"Warriors are not what you think of as warriors. The warrior is not
someone who fights, because no one has the right to take another's
life.
The warrior, for us, is one who sacrifices himself for the good of
others. His task is to take care of the elderly, the defenseless,
those who can not provide for themselves, and above all, the children,
the future of humanity."
~ Sitting Bull
These men are true warriors, fighting against aggression and risking
the ultimate sacrifice on the frontlines. For these men, peace and an
independent Artsakh came with a hefty price tag. Without hesitation,
they paid for the price of peace and used every means necessary to
ensure the security and survival of the land. It is now our duty to
take care of them. With Our Soldiers (www.withoursoldiers.com) is an
initiative organized a few years ago that has done substantial work
in supporting the veterans of the Artsakh War.
As always, when donating funds, please be proactive and hold the
organizers responsible for delivering reportable results for your
donation, so that we can encourage solidarity and provide support
for the right efforts in Armenia.
http://hetq.am/eng/news/58904/heading-to-artsakh-in-the-company-of-r%C5%8Dnin.html
12:19, March 9, 2015
During the feudal period of Japan (1185-1868), a rÅ~Mnin (浪aºº?) was
classified as a samurai who did not have a lord or master. A samurai
would become a rÅ~Mnin upon the death, fall or loss of privilege of
the master.
A few days ago, I received a phone call from an older friend inviting
me to attend the 27th anniversary commemoration of the Sumgait
anti-Armenian pogroms, which was to take place in Nagorno-Kharabagh
(Artsakh).
Upon agreeing, I arrived at the Ashtarak city center at 7:00 am and
was immediately greeted by a large group of men. We were soon sorted
into various commuter buses and embarked on the long drive to Artsakh.
I soon came to realize that I was traveling to Artsakh in a bus full of
veterans from the Artsakh War. Initially, their demeanor took me aback.
These were not the azadamardeegs (freedom fighters) that songs and
folklore had been written about. Neither were they the azadamardeegs
whose pictures we glorified and names we remembered.
These were the very villagers who took up arms at the beck and call
and stood ground in unknown forests to protect their homes and people
from the cold hand of aggression. I recalled the documentaries filmed
by Tsvetana Paskaleva, which I had seen years earlier at the Pasadena
Armenian Center. These were the very men from the screen, shuffling
between trees and tanks, smoking cigarettes and driving towards the
frontlines as caravans of people sought refuge in the other direction.
During the first rest stop, our caravan organized an impromptu lunch
where everyone contributed something from their "shepherd's meal
bag," creating an impressive spread of bread, cheese, boiled eggs,
pickles and homemade vodka. Glasses were filled, toasts were said and,
after a few cycles of the repeated process, the caravan was ready to
move forward.
As we continued down the road, the singing commenced and was
followed by storytelling reminiscent of the war, while all of this
was accompanied by, of course, more drinking. I was traveling in the
company of heroes, but these men were a far cry from elitist soldiers.
Untrained, ill equipped and inexperienced, these first-responders
mustered up whatever was available and put up the fight of their
lives. Now, they were reuniting at the very site of their victory,
celebrating their victories and commemorating the ones that they could
not save. The gravity of their experiences was written on their tired
and weathered faces. I soon came to learn that alcohol dependency
substituted medical care for many of these men, as many became reliant
on the bottle as a way of dealing with untreated ailments. These men
exhibited the whole gamut of emotions: from being visibly emotional
at times to scenes of friendly nostalgia.
They laughed, cried, poked fun at each other, and remembered
the good old days. All of their emotions blended in a beautiful
cohesion of their past valor being tied to a current, tangible
land that came to fruition due to their efforts. In Shushi, they
joined the new generation in song and celebration, truly enjoying
the well-deserved heroes welcome organized for them. Pride and joy
emerged in Stepanakert, clearly affirming that these men were ready
and willing to serve again, should the need arise.
As we were descending from Shushi, one of these men pointed to
a collection of sculptures made by a group of European sculptors
and proudly claimed that the children of Shushi made them. Without
hesitation, I commented of their great beauty and withheld my urge to
affirm their European origin. The delegation that had installed these
sculptors had been contested by Azerbaijan several years earlier,
which claimed that the artists did not have the proper paperwork to
install such a project. I came to realize that these men were the
embodiment of the spirit and guardians of the Armenian mountains. The
hope that Armenian children would create and thrive on this land was
what led them to the battlefield 25 years ago. One could not have the
audacity to argue of such matters with the very men whose stouthearted
grit was the sole reason of that land's existence.
While continuing the festivities on our return trip, we were surprised
to find out that one of the men who had been traveling with us was
Karen Mshetsi, whose soulful singing made the night unforgettable. As
the night progressed and the singing soon dwindled out, the
conversations became more personal. These men shared their stories.
Many had not gone to school or earned a fancy title at work. Most of
these people still were suffering from psychological and physiological
trauma as a remnant of the war. Many lived in remote villages that
received little consideration and even fewer visitors.
These men are the RÅ~Mnin of the Armenian mountains. They are the
forgotten ones. They are the ones whose names are not mentioned in
songs. They are the ones who did not make it into the books of the
defense ministry or onto any veterans list. They simply sacrificed
and fought for the independence of Artsakh and then went home to
rebuild their lives.
"Warriors are not what you think of as warriors. The warrior is not
someone who fights, because no one has the right to take another's
life.
The warrior, for us, is one who sacrifices himself for the good of
others. His task is to take care of the elderly, the defenseless,
those who can not provide for themselves, and above all, the children,
the future of humanity."
~ Sitting Bull
These men are true warriors, fighting against aggression and risking
the ultimate sacrifice on the frontlines. For these men, peace and an
independent Artsakh came with a hefty price tag. Without hesitation,
they paid for the price of peace and used every means necessary to
ensure the security and survival of the land. It is now our duty to
take care of them. With Our Soldiers (www.withoursoldiers.com) is an
initiative organized a few years ago that has done substantial work
in supporting the veterans of the Artsakh War.
As always, when donating funds, please be proactive and hold the
organizers responsible for delivering reportable results for your
donation, so that we can encourage solidarity and provide support
for the right efforts in Armenia.
http://hetq.am/eng/news/58904/heading-to-artsakh-in-the-company-of-r%C5%8Dnin.html