Remembering Armenia’s Independence
By Nessuna
I hadn’t even turned 12 when the impossible happened and the map of the world changed dramatically with the fall of the great Soviet empire. It was 1991 and looking back, my little life was a lot easier before the last years of the Soviet Union than during its immediate aftermath. I was attending a Russian school, reading about great soviet fatherland and comrade Lenin as well as enjoying May Day parades on the shoulders of my dad.
It’s been 15 years since then, but I still remember the soviet songs with lyrics such as “I don’t know another country where man breathes so freely…”
Yet, things were changing rapidly. I might not be very good with the chronological order, especially as most of my memories have long since faded anyway. However, I can remember my Dad telling me that Americans walk their heads up because they are proud of their country. He even handed me The Bill of Rights. He was fascinated with it because he believed that unlike the Soviet constitution, the document was more than just a combination of beautiful words on paper.
Glasnost gave a way to the rise of a national movement. On December 7, 1988, a terrible earthquake took away the lives of thousands, leaving thousands of others without shelter in the middle of the winter. I was too young to grasp the horror of it, and in a way I’m happy for that, as selfish as it sounds. Gorbachev cut short his visit to New York City to visit Gyumri, the second largest city after Yerevan, that suffered tremendously from the earthquake.
He promised to restore the disaster region but found people asking him about Nagorno-Karabakh, a territory situation in Azerbaijan largely populated by ethnic Armenians, instead. Shortly afterwards, there were the pograms in Sumgait, and then, I found myself singing Armenian songs instead of Soviet ones.
Perestroika was in the air. My parents began to spend hours outside participating in demonstrations, and I can remember the tanks and Russian soldiers in the center of Yerevan. I can even remember my dad not coming home at nights, and mom making sandwiches in the morning for a bunch of people like my dad who spent the night in the square. Instead of playing with dolls, my sister and I were playing “parliament,” exclusively copyrighted to us even if the mock-soviet parliament game was pretty much limited to imitating loud talks with interruptions.
I can also remember how my Dad told me how lucky we were to live in a historical era, connecting East and West Germany on the political map of the world while trying to convey the magnificence of the fall of Berlin wall. It was also the same year, during the rise of the national movement, that eventually saw my parents transfer my sister and I to an Armenian school. Everything that was familiar and secure was crumbling to pieces, and I could swear that those were the worst days of my childhood.
Little did I know about the hard years to come, when the war would break out and Armenia would find itself in blockade.
“In ten years from now, things will be so good. Just wait,” my Dad told me optimistically one gloomy winter evening. Those were the years of growing optimism and euphoria for the future of the newly established Armenian republic. However, as the years passed we had to deal with disillusionment, despair, or maybe just realism. But that’s a different story, and one that probably deserves its own post.
Unfortunately many diasporans share your disappointment too. You have a government that’s riddled with corruption, a constitution that’s ignored, a national church that fails to speak out and neighbors that wish we would just go away. I remember when Armenia was independent too!
Comment by Darwin Jamgochian — May 12, 2006 @ 4:31 am
Nice posting Nessuna. I may have shared some of the sandwiches with your Dad at the square. Since then I moved to West and now I am in USA. I have to say that I avoid those heads up, flag waving americans and feel increasingly back to the USSR. Of course economically it is quite different than it was in Soviet Union. Unlike USSR people here have shops full of stuff but deprieved of mental food.
The situation in Armenia is far from what we dreamed, actually it is getting increasingly alarming. But there are young people like you and I am hopefull…
Comment by Գագիկ — May 14, 2006 @ 2:40 am
Thanks, Gagik.
By the way, ironically, now my dad is as anti-american as it gets.
Comment by Nessuna — May 14, 2006 @ 4:10 pm
Actually Gagik is Kakig in western Armenian. Welcome to America. You are now in the west. Lucky you.
Comment by Darwin Jamgochian — May 15, 2006 @ 9:22 am
I am tired of listening to diasporans and Armenians from Armenia who move abroad complain about how bad things are without having a real understanding about how the law doesn’t function, how does corruption affect the ordinary person, and so forth, then walk a way with an “oh well, what can we do” nonchalant point of view. If you want change do something about it! Don’t just sit there at your desk and write silly comments. Armenians are going to have to wake up when it comes to Armenia’s independence. They still don’t understand what it means to have a “democracy” when the term is still abstract for most people here. Yes, Armenia is independent, but really, how many people in the diaspora really care? Then again, what does independence mean for them, freedom from Soviet rule?
In any case… love live Armenia.
Comment by Christian — May 15, 2006 @ 4:18 pm
Armenia has had to endure more than its share. Who to blame? America, England, Turkey, Azerbaijan, Georgia, or Russia? Well before blaming someone else, it’s time to look in a mirror. At the rate things are going in Yerevan, the only shade left in Yerevan will come from the characters in business suits. People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.
Comment by Darwin Jamgochian — May 15, 2006 @ 5:04 pm