Mr. Speaker, I rise today to memorialize and record a courageous story of survival of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Genocide, perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire from 1915 to 1923, resulted in the death of 1.5 million Armenian men,…
Mr. Speaker, I rise today to memorialize and record a courageous story of survival of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Genocide, perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire from 1915 to 1923, resulted in the death of 1.5 million Armenian men, women, and children. As the U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire Henry Morgenthau documented at the time, it was a campaign of ``race extermination.''
The campaign to annihilate the Armenian people failed, as illustrated by the proud Armenian nation and prosperous diaspora. It is difficult if not impossible to find an Armenian family not touched by the genocide, and while there are some survivors still with us, it is imperative that we record their stories. Through the Armenian Genocide Congressional Record Project, I hope to document the harrowing stories of the survivors in an effort to preserve their accounts and to help educate the Members of Congress now and in the future of the necessity of recognizing the Armenian Genocide.
This is one of those stories:
My Grandmother Araxi
This story is dedicated to my children so they may always
remember their family heritage. It is in memory of my
grandfather and grandmother, Garabed and Araxi Kechbouladian.
This is my way to honor them and to immortalize my
grandmother's legacy.
My ``Nana,'' Araxi, was born in Zeitoun, in 1914, around
the time of the Armenian Genocide. My ``Dede,'' Garabed, was
born there as well. He died in the 1960's and my Nana lived
with us in Germany until the day she died. One of my most
vivid memories of her is her singing a particular song. She
used to sing this song often. It is called ``Yeraz'' which
means dream. I remember the first verse word for word. It
goes like this, ``Yes lehsezy me anoush zain, eem zerahzadz
mor mod ehr. Paylez neshouil ouraghoutyan. Payz absos vor
yeraz ehr.'' It means, ``I heard a sweet voice. It was my
mother's. It was a gleam of joy. But, unfortunately, it was
just a dream.'' My grandmother would sing it when she was
cooking or doing chores. She would cry every time she sang
this song. She had never known her mother and her father.
Their names were Neshan and Vartouhy Shanlian.
Nobody knows what really happened to my great grandparents.
All my grandmother would tell is that she was about a year
old, perhaps a little older, when she was taken to a German
orphanage in Lebanon, located somewhere between the cities of
Sour and Saida. She thought that it was called Ghazir. She
had heard many stories growing up and she believed that her
parents were either killed during the massacre, in 1915, or
died during the deportation. If the Armenians were not
massacred, they were ordered by the Turks to leave their
lands and march through the deserts towards Syria. Those
marches were called death marches because many perished of
dehydration, starvation, and exhaustion. If the march did not
kill them, they were going to be killed eventually. This must
have been my great grandparents' fate. As for my grandmother,
she must have been kept by other Armenians. Eventually, she
was given to the Germans who were gathering up orphans at
that time.
My great grandparents had seven children. Only four of them
survived, my grandmother being the youngest one. Their names
were Flora, Maritza, Bedros, Stepan, Hagop, Avedis, and my
grandmother Araxi. The siblings surviving the Genocide were
Maritza, Avedis, and Hagop. However, my grandmother grew up
separated from them in the German-run orphanage. She was
found by Badvely Aharonian, a pastor and family friend of the
Shanlians. Badvely Aharonian's mission was to seek out and
reunite children and family members who were displaced during
the deportation. My grandmother was about 11-years-old when
the Badvely found her. The only way he recognized my ``Nana''
was by the name plate that was hung on my then infant
grandmother's neck displaying her full name. This was
recorded in the orphanage and was the only proof of her
family lineage. She was taken to Cypress where she was
reunited with her sister Maritza and her brother Avedis. Her
brother Hagop had immigrated to France by then and she never
got to meet him. It is not known how her brothers, Bedros and
Stepan, died. However, the story of her sister, Flora, and
the way she died, was well-known and talked about many
decades later in the Zeitounzy community.
When my grandmother had her first child, a daughter, her
mother-in-law requested that
she be named Flora, after my grandmother's courageous sister.
Flora was very beautiful people told my grandmother. She must
have been the oldest, or one of the older ones, as she was
married to a doctor and had a child by the time of the
massacre. Her husband was arrested and most probably killed
soon after. The Turks asked her to convert so that she could
become a wife to one of them. They would have spared her and
her child if she agreed. My great aunt Flora knew that she
would be raped, tortured, and killed if she did not accept
their offer. However, she chose not to give in. They must
have been marching through a mountainous area. She somehow
got away and jumped off a cliff into her death. Some said
that she jumped with her child. When I was born, my
grandmother requested that my parents name me Flora to
continue her sister's legacy.
My grandmother was a strong woman. She continued to live in
Cypress with her sister, Maritza, up to the age of 19. Then
she moved to Syria where she got married and bore eight
children, two of whom died in their childhood. She was
widowed too soon and worked hard for her family. Eventually,
most of her children immigrated to France and Germany. She
moved to Germany with my father and mother. She lived with us
for many years and died in our house at the age of 81. Now
she rests in peace in the land of the people who took her in
as an infant.
It was a privilege to grow up with my grandmother. She was
amazing. She was able to sing the German Anthem word for word
up to the day she died. She had learned it at the orphanage
from her ``Mutter.'' She started her day with prayer and
ended her day in prayer. She instilled in me great values
such as faith and courage. I learned many things from my
grandmother, Araxi.
I am grateful to my Nana for naming me after her courageous
sister, Flora. I am grateful that she told me all these
stories so that I would know about my heritage and never
forget. I am grateful for her many prayers and blessings.
Here I am grandma, telling your story to the whole world! I
love you, your granddaughter, Flora