A FAMILY WAITS – WHITE LAKE RESIDENTS TRAPPED IN LEBANON

Milford Times, MI
Aug 3, 2006

By Aileen Wingblad
STAFF WRITER

When Jack Chopjian’s wife, Karine, and their two young sons left for
an overseas trip to visit family in May, he said good-bye with the
intent of joining them there at the end of August.

Chopjian was to fly in for a huge celebration with friends and
relatives in honor of their little boy’s baptism, followed by a
few weeks of vacationing with Karine and the kids – Christopher, 4
and Armen, 2. Chopjian, a White Lake resident and owner of Milford
Jewelers in downtown Milford, was to enjoy with the family days of
sunning at the beach, splashing in the sea, enjoying the beauty of
the surrounding mountain range, reveling in the seemingly endless
nightlife and the other wonders the country holds.

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The beloved country of his and Karine’s childhood, Lebanon.

More specifically, the rural village of Anjar, in a lush and exotic
region of Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley – the adopted homeland of thousands
of Armenians, like Chopjian’s parents and grandparents.

Yet fate was to intervene in a most grim and destructive way.

Instead of relishing an extended holiday, Karine, Christopher and
Armen are trapped in Anjar, just north of the Syrian border. Hunkered
down in the home of Karine’s parents since Israel’s aerial bombardment
began in Lebanon last month, they are challenged by the daily rumble of
bombs – some hitting just a mile away. Telephone, water and electrical
services are severely limited. Gas stations are shut down, and grocery
stores are picked clean.

At this point, Chopjian said, his wife’s best bet is to get to
neighboring Syria and make arrangements for a return flight. However,
though the Syrian border is just a few miles away, major streets
leading there are closed or demolished. And travel along the back
roads is questionable – and risky.

So for now, he said, there is no manageable way back to the United
States for his wife and kids.

"It was supposed to be a nice vacation, but it turned into war,"
said Tamar Aguilar, Chopjian’s sister and business partner.

Frustration rules the day "I am frustrated, very frustrated. There’s
nothing I can do. I can’t just fly there and get them," Chopjian
said. "I’m freaking out, of course. But what can I do?"

He watches daily news updates on TV, and gets other information from
friends who have satellite feeds from Arabic news services. And he
puts on a brave and friendly face each day, hoping for the best while
biding his time until his loved ones return.

"But he is nervous, very nervous – and so am I," Aguilar said. "It’s
hard to stay concentrated at work. It is on your mind all the time.
Friends keep calling and asking what’s going on, if there is any
change. But right now, we just don’t know. It is really hard."

Chopjian tries to contact his wife every day, having more luck with
land lines than cellular service. "The cell phones just aren’t clear.
And the regular phones are clearer, but still it’s hard to get
through. And lots of times, after about two minutes, the phone just
drops right off," he said.

Those brief but invaluable phone calls include conversations with his
sons, too. Armen, still a toddler, is frightened and confused, Chopjian
said. Christopher has been told the sounds of the bombs are fireworks.

"That way, it doesn’t scare him," he said. "When he hears the bombs,
he just says, ‘oh, there are the fireworks again."

Unwanted legacy Though Karine and the others are surrounded by danger,
Chopjian said he has faith in his wife’s ability to hold up until she
can return home. Her parents’ house is a safe haven, for now, and the
community of Anjar is close-knit and supporting, he said. Besides,
he added, Karine – like himself and countless family and friends – has
already proven an ability to endure the horrors of armed conflict. Just
as he did, Karine grew up in the Armenian-populated region of Lebanon
during that country’s civil war of the 1970s.

"She’s strong. She’s made it through this type of thing before,"
he said.

But picturing his young sons in that environment is weighing heavily
on Chopjian’s heart. He shudders to think his little boys could
harbor some of the same kinds of memories of war that have haunted
him since his own childhood. Living through air strikes and gun fire
– and watching as your neighborhood crumbles around you – has left
a profound impression on Chopjian. And the recollections are still
fresh, some 25 years after he emigrated to the United States.

Aguilar shares her brother’s dread that the children will be adversely
affected by this summer’s trip to Lebanon. "I’d hate it if they have
flashbacks – and all the kids that are over there," she said. "I know
what they are going through." Aguilar said she’s troubled to this day
by the sound of thunder, which always brings to mind memories of air
strikes that were a part of her pre-teen years.

"People say it’s just thunder. But to me, I’m reminded of all the
bombings," she said. "I hate it."

The waiting game Chopjian said despite the unrest that plagues much
of the Middle East, the latest conflict in Lebanon came as quite a
shock to him. After all, he said, Lebanon and its people over the past
several years have been undergoing a renaissance of sorts with rebuilt
infrastructure and plenty of corporations eager to invest there.

He last visited in 2001. The country was occupied by Syrian security
forces at the time, which left him a bit uneasy, yet the area was
breathtakingly beautiful. It was easy to see, he said, why Lebanon
had earned a reputation as a vacation hot-spot recently throughout
much of the world.

After Syrian forces left last year, Chopjian said he believed Lebanon
was well on its way to the democracy desired by the people. "The
country was coming back, they were happy. There was a lot of
construction, lots of money and tourism and business," Chopjian said.

Now, there is heartbreak.

"Any country that is in war, it is horrible," he said. "As for the
politics, I don’t know what to say about who is right and who is
wrong. There are no winners in this."

Aguilar said all she can do now is "pray for peace" and urges others
to do so, too. "It is just such a mess over there. Such a mess,"
she said. "I never imagined anything like this would be happening."

Chopjian won’t venture a guess as to when Karine and the boys will
be back. "Honestly, I don’t know. Obviously, I want them here as soon
as possible. Perhaps there will be a cease-fire and they can get out,
but it’s crazy. That whole region is suffering.

"But no matter what you say, she’s there and I am here," he said.
"The situation is changing every minute. And there is nothing I can
do about it."

Aileen Wingblad is a reporter for the Milford Times. She can
be reached by phone at (248) 685-1507 ext. 22 or by e-mail at
awingblad@gannett.com.