armenianow.com
August13, 2004
Learning Curve: Doctoral candidate takes critical look at Diaspora-Armenia
relations
By Vahan Ishkhanyan
ArmeniaNow reporter
Eight months ago ethnographer Hrak Varjapetian and his family moved from
America to Armenia to research a complex question: What are the similarities
and differences between native Armenians and Diaspora?
Varjapetian is defending his doctoral thesis at the University of Wisconsin.
While interacting with his distant relatives, the ethnographer has also
focused a good deal of attention on the significance of statues and
memorials in Armenia.
A family making observations . . .
It is significant, he says, that monuments in Armenia are larger, more
imposing and, simply, more “monumental”.
“When the Armenian community is surrounded by Armenians it feels safe and
only then it can feel confident and can have monumental memorials,” says
Varjapetian, a native of Lebanon.
To make his point, Varjapetian compares the David of Sasun statue in
Yerevan, with the one in Fresno, California. The American version is much
less significant and “in contrast to Yerevan’s, the horse and David are
thin, weak and close to death”.
While there may be many practical reasons behind the way the hero is
depicted, the ethnographer sees it as an example that the mere size of
monuments reflects a society’s confidence and sense of security.
Another point of his research is that in Armenia people are experiencing the
Armenian reality. And, objects that might hold great significance for
Diaspora are part of the normal environment in Armenia.
“They sell both rock pictures and cross stones copies, because they are on
their soil. We haven’t ever seen rocks and cross stones in Diaspora. We only
heard about them or saw in photos,” Varjapetian says. “For Diaspora,
Armenian history starts with (expulsion from Western Armenia). If we learn
our identity from materialistic objects, Diaspora learns through oral
history.”
Varjapetian moved to America 30 years ago. He says that both in Armenia and
Lebanon, Armenians are in safe surroundings and among many generations of
relatives. But when a Lebanese Armenian goes to America or France he loses
his confidence and sometimes becomes angry at his father’s authority, who
had to be his protector.
So, in Los Angeles, Lebanese-Armenian writers, Vahe Berberian and Ishkhan
Ginbashian in their works ridicule the fathers’ role and sometimes throw
them from their pedestals. So, too, Armenians who emigrated to Paris in the
1920s rebelled against the older generation and national values. (For
example, in Shahan Shahnuri’s novel “Retreat Without a Song” the Armenian
hero sees Narekatsi to be the reason of the nation’s collapse.)
In contrast, the ethnographer observes, native Armenians stick more closely
to traditional values and morals.
There is also a big difference in understanding of Genocide, Varajeptian
says.
“Everything that people (living in Armenia) don’t like they call ‘genocide’,”
Varajeptian says. He uses the displacement of residents for North Avenue
construction as example.
“So many people say to me, that my father was born here, so how I can live
in (the Yerevan district) Masiv? And they also say, ‘as Turks did, now our
Government does an eviction, and this is genocide’. But for Diaspora,
Genocide is a historical event”.
While native Armenians need no reminders of their place, many Diaspora –
especially third generation – need to go back to their roots for some
identity.
He gives an example of an American writer Mishlin Aharonian-Markomin, whose
mother is an Armenian. He is the author of books about Genocide.
“Mishlin’s grandmother was born in Kharberd and she told him about Genocide.
Once Mishlin said to a Turk from Kharberd, that his mother is also from
Kharberd and an eye-witness of Genocide. The Turk said that there was no
genocide. So the question rose: either the mother lies or the Turk. While
clarifying that question his identity will be created”.
Varjapetian has relatives in Armenia and says it is a rich resource for an
ethnographer. But he does not want to live here because, in general, he says
Armenia is a rude place.
“At Vernisage a book-seller sells books in a cover,” he says. “I want to
take the wrapper off to look and maybe then buy. But the seller doesn’t
allow, saying ‘Can’t you see it from the pocket. If not don’t buy.’ Or a
woman puts a telephone outside and wants 100 drams for a call. After calling
you give money, 150 drams, 50 you want back and she throws it into your
face. Little things add to each other and become things that you can not
stand.”
His wife, Silva Dakesian, an English editor, is mostly dissatisfied with the
people’s rudeness. “When I came first it was very nice, I was happy that we
understood each other,” she says. “But then I started to notice that
Armenian Armenians and Armenians from Diaspora do not understand each other.
People give very coarse answers. For example, once I went to the library to
look for a book and the librarian shouted rudely. Then as she knew that I am
not from Armenia, she became very polite. Or in the yard of an art gallery I
was looking at a statue of Lenin. A manager passed and I asked where the
head of Lenin is, he said somewhat rough, ‘Why the hell do you need it?'”
The couple’s children, 10-year old Arev and 8-year old Nur, attended a
school in Yerevan and the most important thing for them was learning the
Armenian language.
“Now I can speak with my parents in America in Armenian and nobody will
understand it,” says Arev.
But, like his mother, Arev isn’t pleased with what he found among Armenian
society. Especially, he was sad to see children mistreat animals.
“They hit cats with stones,” the boy says. “They put out the eyes of one cat
from our yard. If you take a cat from the street you must take good care of
it without harming.”
Meanwhile, his sister, Nur, says she feels sorry for so many beggars in
Armenia. And the little Lebanese-Armenian-American says it inspires her to
be like a certain African-American.
She says she will become a follower of Martin Luther King, and set the poor
free from being outcasts.