Venera Grishyan's Stories
|
“About Myself” (About Me)
Before starting let me say that what I'm saying now, last year was so far from me, as far as Antarctica from Everest. When I’ve been described in the past the first things they'd say about me were that I'm a "quiet, introverted girl." But now I've started not to like that characterization. Now it's my job to break those habits of mine. Finally I'm starting to pay attention to everything and I'm realizing so many things. Before while walking on my street I would “wake up out of my sleep” only at those hours when there were strangers on the street, or whenever anyone called out to me. But now I'm paying so much attention to everything that it’s turned into the saying “like the spoon with no stem you always falls in.” But I think you always have to pay attention to the small things because very often in those small things are deeper meanings. I’ve learned that you should never approach anything distrustfully, and I try not to show whether I like someone or not because it brings about distrust and I’ve learned that bad things happen from distrust.
Besides that, in my life I have only one principle which is to try and see the good in even negative things.
Wrote at 12 years old age
^ to Top
|
In the evening we often used to meet at woman’s assemblies. The women would meet and discuss events and comfort one another. I approached and asked about the issues regarding Nor Hajn (ignoring their outline of topics). Many of the women had left already but a few remained.
“My dear, oh, we’re at the age where we feel relaxed here, on this ground,” said one of the women, gesturing with her head at the adjacent dormitory yard. “Go right into the dormitory. There you’ll see all of the issues. We have no bathroom, there’s only one communal bathroom per floor. We have no kitchen. We’re living on public assistance. There’s no future here for the young. In the city it’s completely different. People have occupations.”
But when I asked what the difference was, and if it was possible for the same person over there to have no job, the same as here, people listening from afar approached and started an outpour of protest:
“We’re people too…We also want to live, we want to live…We can take in breath but we want to breathe out. It’s very hard…”
When people calmed down they started to get interested in where we had come from. “But in other places we don’t want them to read that we’re complaining,” they said, worried.
Wrote at 12 years old age
^ to Top
|
“Come my children, come inside,” said a woman close to 25 years old. These words were surprising to me because they weren’t exactly pressing. A little later we became acquainted and she very sincerely told me about her problems.
“I completed medical school. I really enjoy being a doctor. 10 months ago I lived in Yerevan. Then I got married. Here and the city are completely different. Yerevan was free; I could do whatever I wanted. But here…at night I want to go out with my husband, take walks, but, you see, there’s only one park and it's very dirty. In the city there are many parks and coffeehouses. But here I’m always in this same room. I want us to move back to the city but my husband’s mother is buried here and my husband doesn’t want to be that far from his mother’s grave. Basically I live in Nor Hajn for love.
Wrote at 12 years old age
^ to Top
|
“Come my children, come inside,” said a woman who lived on the first floor of the dormitory. We went in and started asking about when they’d moved here and how. After our questions the woman’s face took on such an expression that you’d have thought something horrible was happening before her eyes. But I decided later that she hadn’t noticed her expression.
“Should I tell this story?” she said. At which point I became quiet and she became quiet. A little later she started up her speech again:
“In 1989 I immigrated to Kirovabad. At that time the Azerbaijanis were killing us with cudgels because we were Armenian. They were committing a real massacre. The Armenians came to help us and take us to Yerevan and other cities. But I didn’t go. I said as long as my mother and father don’t leave, I won’t leave. But it was as if I was required to turn on the television at least once in order to get through my day. We couldn’t come out of the cellar to go to the store. But it was fine, our Azerbaijani neighbors would help us, they’d bring bread.
Crossing the border was terrifying. We saw how they would set the bodies, and belongings, of the other border crossers on fire. We barely broke free of them and we came to New Hajn. At first we lived in a shed, then we got a room.
For two weeks we lived in the dormitory but our money and our belongings were in the shed. And when we went to get them the whole shed had burnt down. Then I worked in a warehouse. I had children. My older son has an eye problem that’s untreatable, but he’s plenty smart. But, alas, now I don’t work because I’m separated from my husband because of alcoholism. I receive an allowance of twenty thousand dram with nine thousand dram going to my child because of his eye problem. In short, we get by.
Wrote at 12 years old age
^ to Top
|
“Hey, what are you taking a picture of? What are we to you? We’re grown men. No one pays attention to us,” said a group of card playing old men.
“Hey, kids, now who’s putting us into something, who do you need?”
The Armenian inhabitants of Nor Hajn and I continued on our road. One group of boys, holding off of their usual quarrels were saying, “Are we so uninteresting that you won’t take our pictures?” We acted as if we were deaf to avoid them. Then we met an old man on the first floor of a building who was opening up his little store. When he saw that we were taking pictures he said at once, “Are you from this floor? What are you taking pictures of?
In order not to frighten the old man we continued on our path, but at that point the man was looking out with a stone glare. When I asked him what he was thinking about he let out a sigh and said, “those boys are interested in the ones that are uninteresting.”
Then we saw a little cottage where kids were playing with some dolls in weavers’ uniforms.
“Oh, I used to play with the dolls when I was little. I was always dreaming about those dolls.”
“And now what do you dream of?”
“I dream of becoming a hip-hop dancer, but my mother won’t allow it. My mother’s deepest desire had been to become a doctor but she wasn’t able to and now she wants me to be a doctor. She also says that being a hip-hop dancer is not profitable. For all this, I agree, I want to choose the kind of career that makes me rich so that I don’t have to live in a small house. And I don’t want my family to need anything.”
Wrote at 12 years old age
^ to Top
|
“Pardon me, may I speak with you? Will you tell us about Nor Hajn?”
“My dear, I’m in a rush. I’m busy,” they all said. “Where do you work?”
After my question they hesitated. They didn’t know what to say, and a few minutes later they were complaining that there was no work.
All of them combined were saying one thing about Nor Hajn.
“‘Shoghagne’ closed in 2007, and “Arevag” is barely running, but before…”, all of their eyes brightened.
Let them not be nervous. However, in my opinion, the city’s young adults and children were more communicative and sociable. I liked all of the children. They were unique and interesting. There was one thing I noticed about nearly everyone that I was envious of, their industry and will power.
Wrote at 12 years old age
^ to Top
|
Children's Pages
| Old Sites
| Donations
Newspaper |
Venera Grishyan's Page