Fulfill Your Obligations or Leave

Any government worth its salt is measured by how it cares, attends to the needs of and implements policies for the most vulnerable in society. Regardless of how credible its members are and regardless of how they got their positions, they must fulfill the obligations of their esteemed offices or get out. Simple as that.

When a report by the World Food Programme and UNICEF comes out stating that 19 percent of children under the age of five in rural Armenia are stunted, while 15 percent are overweight because of the lack or ignorance of proper nutritional habits, you begin to wonder.

"A DUAL BURDEN OF MALNUTRITION EXISTS ACROSS THE COUNTRY AMONG CHILDREN UNDER 5, WITH LARGE NUMBERS OF BOTH STUNTED AND OVERWEIGHT CHILDREN."
http://documents.wfp.org/stellent/groups/public/documents/ena/wfp282578.pdf

The Armenia Comprehensive Food Security, Vulnerability and Nutrition Analysis states, "Child stunting was significantly linked with household poverty, poor consumption, poor care and feeding practices, and lower education of mothers. The prevalence of overweight was the same across poor and rich households, indicating the need for greater awareness on healthy eating and lifestyle across the entire population."

For a nation that prides itself on its attitude and care toward children, these numbers are disheartening and point to a whole other trend. According to the analysis, we are resistant to change and prone to both internal and external economic shocks. One third of the population is living in poverty, unemployment continues to soar (official numbers place it at 18 percent), and hope has been ebbing away if not lost completely for many.

Children need to be protected, they need proper nutrition and care and most of all they need to have the right to have a fighting chance.

Days Like This

Verjine and Gohar, Derian Restuarant

Some days are good, others not so much, but days like this are pretty incredible, maybe even a little epic.

A few years ago, unable to come to a consensus about where to go for dinner, my husband resolved our dilemma by suggesting we go to a newly opened Middle Eastern restaurant. He said it was owned by Syrian-Armenians and warned us that it was a very small place, nothing fancy, but with really good food. We were all game, so off we went.

When we arrived at this 'very small place' it was a bit disappointing even for our standards (clearly we're not fancy). The 'restaurant' wasn't small, it was more like a sorry excuse for a hole in the wall, and to be honest, I was annoyed. It was located in a courtyard that had been converted into a parking lot with a number of loitering stray dogs. There was even a car wash to boot. Not a good first impression.

Inside the dimly-lit restaurant there were two rickety tables, a couple of fridges with drinks and a small flight of steps that led right into the kitchen. I tried to keep my irritation in check and thought to myself that the food better be damn good

After settling in and glancing at the sparse menu of familiar dishes, we placed our order surveying our surroundings. I asked my husband about the owners and he said they were two families, in-laws who had come to Armenia to flee the war raging in Syria.

It was at that exact moment that Gohar appeared. She came down the steps from the kitchen and said that our order would be out shortly. Hearing our Western Armenian, she asked where we were from and the conversation blossomed from there. She told us that they had come to Yerevan for the summer with the intention of returning to Aleppo but the situation had deteriorated and they had become 'stuck' as it were.

Gohar was a gracious host, at times almost apologetic about the place. She was trying her best to make us comfortable explaining that this venture was completely new to them. They had never run a restaurant before but sitting at home and doing nothing was driving them all over the edge. She said that her son's mother-in-law was also in Yerevan and since they were good cooks, they decided to try their hand at running a restaurant with the help of their husbands. That was when she introduced us to Verjine, her khnami, who was in the kitchen preparing our meal.

Long story short - Derian Kebab expanded their operations, began creating a solid clientele, built a patio, provided live music and their business like our initial conversation blossomed. We became regulars and enjoyed the delicious flavors of the dishes we had grown up on.

In many ways, I feel like I've become part of their family. Gohar and Verjine symbolize the tenacity and creativity of so many Armenian women that I have been blessed to know. I love their spirit and unfaltering hopefulness and although I'm not much younger than they are, I have come to love them because they remind me of my Haleptsi mother.

Gohar and Verjine with their children.

Tonight, these two lovely women, along with their husbands and children (who moved from Dubai to Yerevan to help their parents run the business!) opened a second location. No small feat in a country with high rates of poverty and unemployment and an unstable economy.

When I arrived, the new Derian Restaurant was packed with well-wishers. There was barely any room to move. I stood there awkwardly because the vast majority were Syrian-Armenians, none of whom I knew. Just then I heard my name and saw Gohar and Verjine walking toward me. As we embraced, they introduced me to their children, tried to get me to drink and eat some food. We got our pictures taken, we hugged some more and for no other reason than because we're Armenian, expressed our love for each other.

Later on, as we were reminiscing about their humble beginnings in what I lovingly referred to as their 'hole in the wall,' Verjine's husband said, "If we hadn't started out there, we wouldn't be here tonight."

What $300,000 'Buys' You in Armenia

I wrote a letter to several friends a day before New Years Eve asking them a hypothetical question: If you, your organization or an organization that you know of was to receive an annual injection of $300,000 US, what could you/they do with it? How would it serve to expand operations? What kind of an impact could it have?

I don't have $300,000 so you may ask why I was asking. Here's the backstory.

Last year posts began appearing on my newsfeed by an organization called the American Armenian Rose Float Association. Apparently they were building a float to participate in the Tournament of Roses Parade in California.

Novel idea. Why not? We spend inordinate amounts of money, time and resources doing many banal things, both here in Armenia and the Diaspora, why not a float?

The posts kept appearing no thanks to some mysterious algorithm by Facebook, but I brushed them off and went on with my life.

This year, the posts began appearing again about a new float. I thought it was a one-off thing, didn't realize it was an annual endeavor. I saw it as a message, so I went to http://www.aarfa.org/ to try and figure out what the big deal was. Indeed, they were building another float with a $300,000 price tag.

On their donations page, it asks you to join the "AARFA movement" and make a donation to help create the second American Armenian Rose Float. You could choose to be a tulip ($2500) or a begonia ($10,000) or a rose ($100,000) or you could donate any amount that fit your budget.

On the header of their page, it says, "It takes 3000 #HappyArmenians donating $100 to finance an American Armenian Rose float each year."

Each year.

$300,000 US.

Each year.

For a float.

Now, it's your money, you can spend it any way you want.

But let me tell you what $300,000US can buy you in Armenia.

$300,000 would fully support 60 new Armenian teachers through the Teach for Armenia program, impacting approximately 4200 school kids in Armenia's most underserved rural areas.

Think about it, 4200 school children.

An annual investment of $300,000 could help several small villages become semi-sustainable through micro-projects, especially frontier villages that come under constant Azerbaijani sniper fire. Money like that could help Grisha Dilbaryan realize his dream of opening a cafe in the border village of Berkaber or building a new greenhouse to grow vegetables and earn an income.

$300,000 could help dozens of Syrian-Armenians set up a small business in Armenia, ensuring them a livelihood and dignity in their homeland.

$300,000 could do wonders for an organization like the Homeland Development Initiative Foundation. It would mean needles knitting, hooks crocheting, needles sewing, employing women in the rural areas of Armenia, empowering them, their families and their communities for the next 4-5 years.

With $300,000, Armenia could have more innovative spaces like the Impact Hub in the smaller cities of the country that would foster change and become a catalyst for creativity and progress.

With $300,000 we could identify families living in rural regions and in poverty to purchase livestock to help feed themselves and make money selling eggs, milk, cheese, butter...giving them the chance to stay on the land.

$300,000 would help Gayane Khachatryan, a young woman from Vanadzor keep her small business afloat. Gayane solely hires people with disabilities to help make Christmas decorations on a shoe-string budget. 

$300,000 could help the Women's Support Center run a full-service domestic violence shelter in Armenia for more than two years.

$300,000 could alternately sustain this organization for about 5-7 years to realize systemic change in Armenia. They could do their life-saving work without financial worries to help develop legislation, organize trainings, prepare shelter staff, put in place good practices for social workers, police, judges and other service providers.

All of these programs are run by non-governmental organizations or individuals. They have commitment, passion and a proven track record in service delivery. People-to-people initiatives, i.e. Diaspora organizations and individuals connecting and working with people on the ground beyond the reach of the corrupt hand of Armenia's government, is an experiment worth trying.

As one friend said, let's forget for a second all the organizations this money could go to and all the profit it could do if invested in sustainable micro-porjects in Armenia or even the Diaspora. If the funds for the float are being raised for the sole purpose of promoting and representing Armenia to a given non-Armenian society, perhaps it could be justified as a marketing tool for the country. In the grand scheme of things, during the 2.5 hour parade through Pasadena plus about a minute on air, hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of of people would see the Armenian float. Then what?

We often talk about sustainability in Armenia. We bang our heads against heavy, concrete walls trying to figure out how what we do makes an impact, how it can support sustainable development. We don't always succeed, we've had some spectacular failures to be sure.

But it's about having vision. A narrative. A plan.

As one other friend asked, is building a float wrong? No, it isn't if that's what you choose to support. He went on to write, "This is not an Armenia in memories, in museums and in books. This is an Armenia of young flesh and blood, of ambition and of achievements to come. This is an Armenia waiting to happen."

I am happy to see so many committed Armenians living in foreign lands still struggling to maintain identity with pride and purpose. The hundreds of volunteers who probably spent hundreds of hours putting together the float for this year's Rose Bowl parade did so with purity of heart. No one argues that.

But without a strong, vital, self-sustaining, sovereign country, building a float for a 60 second sound bite simply keeps Armenia the Armenia of memories, in museums and in books.

The story of our lives or the year that was...

Tomorrow I will finally put up the Christmas tree with my 1.5 year old grandson, Shahen. 

It's hard to fathom that it's that time of year again. It feels like it was just yesterday that I packed away all the Christmas decorations.

Where did the year go?

The sheer magnitude of events that shaped the story of our lives in 2015 was intense, exhilarating, tragic, beautiful, unexpected; it was a year that will be stuck in the membranes of our memories...

It seems as if a whole lifetime was squeezed into a mere 12 months. 

Just a few days after ringing in the New Year, clashes on the border with Azerbaijan erupted resulting in uncertainty and death. Just as we were recovering from the early onslaught, a horrific tragedy in Gyumri struck a blow to the entire nation. In a gruesome multiple homicide, the Avetisyan family was murdered by a Russian soldier while they slept. The family's sole surviving infant, Seryozha struggled to live but he succumbed to his injuries a week later. And when he drew his final breath and passed, a whole country mourned, our hearts were broken. Remembering him now, almost ten months later still moves me to tears...

Life went on. The Armenian people prepared for the centennial of the 1915 Genocide. The Kardashian family came to the homeland, Kanye West performed a free concert for residents of the capital, the Pope gave a Holy Mass where he called the Armenian Genocide the first genocide of the 20th Century, the European Parliament once again called on Turkey to come to terms with its past, a number of parliaments recognized the Genocide, communities across the globe honored their dead and demanded justice and recognition...

Presidents and dignitaries came to Armenia, the world focused on the issue for about a millisecond, millions of dollars were spent. April 25th came, much didn't change, but life went on.

A few months later, Electric Yerevan electrified the country for several weeks. The world's attention, once again, focused on Armenia. We were inspired, invigorated and hopeful. Tired of a system that was failing us, we hoped that a movement led by new young voices would usher in some kind of fundamental change. While it was successful in illustrating the power of the people, the people still have a long way to go before believing that that power can be the engine for real change. The movement fizzled out, people went back to their normal lives and routines. Life went on.

A referendum on constitutional reforms was held. While it's likely that the majority of the population voted against it, the regime successfully orchestrated yet another rigged vote and thus it passed. Citizen observers did their best to protect the integrity of the vote but they were too few in numbers. We reported about it, wrote about it, griped about it. Life went on.

And in between all of these events, the borders of our country were uneasy. No, they were tense. We lost so many young men, boys really, too young to have experienced all that a blessed life could have offered them. We didn't always give them names. We just simply said, Did you hear? We lost two soldiers today on the border. But they had names. They had mothers and fathers who loved them beyond measure. They had wives and children, and friends and community. Each death struck a blow to each little civilization that gave birth to them and raised them. 

While presidents meet and mediators try to mediate, the soldiers and their families are paying a price for us, for our safety and security and we don't do nearly enough to honor them.

What about the ongoing conflicts in other parts of the world? What about the crimes of humanity that are playing out in real time on our computer screens? The tens of thousands of refugees yearning for a better life, risking everything by crossing borders and seas and dying and drowning in the process? The image of the little boy's body washed up on a Turkish shore that will forever be etched in our minds...

Tomorrow as I decorate that 30-year-old Christmas tree that has been a witness to so many precious memories, I will remember the past year and I will be grateful. 

Grateful for all that we experienced. Grateful for the moments of illumination and the depths of despair because it shaped our collective existence, gave it form and texture and depth. Grateful for the youth of this country, who still believe that change is possible. Grateful to be surrounded by incredibly motivated people, for community and grateful to have the privilege of living in my homeland with my family.

Most of all grateful for Shahen, an amazing little human being in his own right and a blessed addition to our little civilization. In a few short months, Shahen will have a baby brother. They will grow up together, play together, go to school, make friends, fall in love and when the time comes, they will both serve in the army to protect the borders of our country. And while that thought terrifies me, it also increases my resolve to work harder, be better, do more...so that they can grow up in peace.

May 2016 be full of blessings for all of us -- may we love more, play more, read more, enjoy life more, believe in our own possibilities and above all else, may we finally find peace and serenity in our lives.

The Power of Us

"In many countries, elections unite people. In your country, your authorities use elections to divide people."

- Roman Udot, 

European Platform for 

Democratic Elections

Maybe we needed to experience this too. Referendum 2015. Maybe this is what had to happen for us to claw and fight our way to that other place. Maybe they had to become more brazen in their criminal actions so that we begin to see the potential power of us, the ordinary citizen. But we aren't ordinary. We are extraordinary. We just need to see it and believe.

Exactly one week ago today, the Armenian people went to the polls to vote on a package of Constitutional reforms and we witnessed yet another vote that was marred by massive violations and electoral irregularities. The subsequent disappointment was familiar. Even before polls closed at 8:00 p.m., we braced ourselves for the results as one violation after another was being reported in real time. 

In the absence of a true, honest and intelligent national dialogue about the reform, in the absence of a relevant opposition that has the ability and credibility to mobilize, and a regime that continues to leave its people unprotected and vulnerable, pushing through a referendum on Constitutional reforms simply compounded the apathy and indifference of an electorate that no longer believes in anything.

For the many beleaguered citizens of this country who did take part in the referendum, the way they voted wasn't about whether or not they live under a particular document - a Constitution - that would determine how they govern and are governed, it was a protest vote, albeit not expressed in the final results. 

But while the disappointment was familiar, it wasn't as deep. It felt different.

Thanks to digital technologies and the mobilization of citizen observers, the vulgarity and criminality of those who took part in falsifying the vote were highlighted in ways that we haven't seen before. 

Those citizen observers, who stood their ground, who knew the law and their rights, who had had enough and were ready to fight tooth and nail to protect the rights of the voters, made a difference albeit small, but a difference nonetheless. Their impact wasn't about the final results but it was about instilling a small seedling of belief in ourselves. 

While the final analysis is yet to be completed, there seems to be enough evidence to suggest that in those precincts where citizen observers were able to make their presence felt, who were able to to push back despite a concerted effort by electoral commission members and proxies of the ruling party to wear them down or get them simply to leave the precincts, the true and free expression of the people was registered - that is, the NO vote won.

Certainly, this time around their efforts did not impact the results, but take a look at how social media is exploding with eyewitness accounts of the violations and you will see how the dynamic is shifting. Online public shaming of those who were part of the fraud machine has forced many of the violators to shut down their Facebook pages because of the onslaught of comments. Information, photos and videos of those electoral commission members and proxies who were responsible for multiple voting, fiddling with the voter registration lists, for ballot stuffing, intimidation, physical violence, obstructing the work of observers and journalists is available for all to see.

The stronger we become, the weaker they become. 

We have two years ahead of us until the 2017 parliamentary elections. If for one moment, we put aside all political affiliations, and say that we, the citizens, the concerned citizens, are going to work together to form our own army of observers, to wage a war against the systematic attempts at obliterating the institutions of democracy in our country, to hold the authorities to account, to force them to comply, to make rigging elections harder for them by showing up. Showing UP. Showing up to vote, to observe, to raise our voices, to register violations, to follow through...

If we, the people, can cover all 1997 electoral stations throughout the country with well informed citizen observers; if we show up to the vote, if we show up to say that my ballot is an inalienable civic right and responsibility and I am going to utilize that right, the harder we will make it for them to rig the vote.

But our engagement as ordinary citizens is not enough. We need political parties that are credible, organized, internally democratic, who have grass roots support, a clear ideology, a platform for reform and a plan for the future and most importantly are not formed around one specific leader or oligarch. Time will tell if this new parliamentary system envisioned under the new Constitution will contribute to the development of political parties. 

And what about those who boycotted the vote on principle or who didn't show up because they believed the results would be manipulated, those who didn't care one way or the other? They are equally part of the problem. 

We need to be present, we need to show up, we need to understand that the majority of the population in Armenia can dethrone a minority regime whose only vested interest is the perpetuation of their own vested interest.

Your Neutrality is Killing Us

Photo: Suren Manvelyan

Every morning as I make my way to work, sitting in traffic, I wonder if I'll read the news of yet another death...

"Today, a soldier was killed on the frontline."

I know the script by heart. I don't think about how I'm going to phrase the news item anymore. I can do it in my sleep. It's always the same. A soldier is killed by an Azerbaijani sniper. Two soldiers are killed along the southern portion of the Line of Contact. As border villages along the Armenia-Azerbaijan state border come under attack, one soldier is killed and another wounded. Armenia's Defense Ministry has launched an investigation into the Azerbaijani military raid that took the lives of four officers. The Nagorno Karabakh Defense Army extends its condolences to the families of the deceased soldiers. Armenia's armed forces retaliate, successfully quell the aggressor's gunfire.

And so it goes. We've become desensitized to the news from the front lines. They've become a normal part of our day. 

But I lie. They haven't. They never will, because once you see the birthdate next to the name of the dead soldier - 1995, 1996, 1997 - something inside you snaps. It doesn't break you, not yet. You can still hang on a little more because you are made of the strong earth from which you sprang. You can hang on because you are as rugged as the mountains that stretch across the landscape of your conscience.

But...

In less than 48 hours, three peaceful civilians, all women, are killed by Azerbaijani gunfire and four young soldiers die on the Line of Contact. If this isn't a declaration of war, what is?

Sometimes the news of tensions and fighting on the border makes international headlines and we're buoyed by the fact that the world hasn't forgotten this isolated corner of humanity. 

Often, those charged with negotiating for a peaceful settlement of the Nagorno Karabakh conflict issue a statement. They call on both sides to refrain from actions that will escalate the situation further. Their carefully crafted statements ooze of neutrality. They blame both sides, call for a de-escalation of aggression. By not calling out the aggressor they render their words useless and become impotent to ensure the de-escalation they seem to want so desperately.

The 18 year-old boys standing on the frontiers pay the price.

Your neutrality, gentlemen, is killing us.

My Independence

Photo credit: Suren Manvelyan

July, 2001

It is a brilliantly sunny day. There are several cars making their way to the airport. My family is divided up among those cars. When we arrive at the terminal, we unload the suitcases, make our way to the check-in counter and thus begin a journey that has been traumatic yet exceptional, uncertain, but life-changing.

At the airport, about 40 members of our immediate and extended family and friends have formed a semicircle. We each take our turn saying our goodbyes. The hardest moment is having to leave my parents behind. My mother seems to be crumbling beneath the pain of knowing that she will be separated from her daughter, her grandchildren...her eyes full of tears she hangs on to me like she never wants to let me go.

And then it's my father's turn. A few weeks earlier, I had asked my mom why dad was so distraught….was this not his dream for me? Was he not happy that I was fulfilling my dream? She says, ‘You are the low-lying branch in a raging river that he has needed for so long…’

Afterward, the four of us walk toward the boarding area. We take one last look at our lives and make our way toward the boarding area.

We didn’t come to Armenia to change anything. We didn’t come to save anyone. We didn’t come with a noble mission. And we certainly didn’t come to prove anything to anyone nor do we think we are ‘better’ Armenians than anyone else.

We came because we could. That has been the gift of independence. 

My independence...