“Life In Nor Hadjn”
|
“Five Minutes...”
It was noon. We were walking down the city streets to Nor Hajn and taking pictures. As we passed the “Street of Lovers,” Rosa said, "Look, this is our club. This is where we meet and dance and enjoy ourselves, but...”
"But what," I asked.
"It's a long, sad story..."
"Will you tell it?"
"Uh-huh...”
“…I was in the second or third grade sitting in class. Someone knocked on the door and three boys walked in. "Hello, kids. We're going to recite some names and those who are called should stand up." They began to read and in two seconds: “Chanklyan, Rosa.” I stood up. The teacher thought I'd heard wrong and told me to sit down, but the boy who was reading told me to stand up. He then added, "Kids, the ALM is giving you a chance to sing on stage, and, why not, become future singers. You must fill out this form and on Friday come to the club's classes. Those who are successful in this event, the stage will be waiting for you."
My happiness was beyond measure. Me. A singer. On a big stage. Who'd have thought? Akh…so my childhood dream was coming true! There were still a few days until Friday. Standing incessantly before the mirror with the garlic pestle in my hands I sang without break. With one song unfinished I'd move on to the next. At one point I staged a show, and I fancied myself very good. At the end I said, "thank you! I love you all! I want to thank my fans for sticking by me and always believing in me." And they applauded me. At night in my dreams I was a famous songstress completely buried under flowers...
Then Friday arrived—the greatest Friday of my life. I was wearing my shiny sequin dress. But I was late for my first class. I entered the club out of breath. The young man who had read our names stopped me and said "you came to class five minutes—are you listening? You're five minutes late and for that reason you lose all of this opportunity and cannot participate." These words, as you can tell, were a little sharp, and stung my heart. My eyes filled with tears and I ran out sobbing. My dream began to crumble, and burst...What a big stage... what roses! It all vanished and was lost. Whether or not I would've turned into a famous singer, I don't know; the only thing I know is this—that in five minutes a ten year old dream was destroyed.”
Arpen Chichakyan
15 years old
Find Arpen Chichakyan's all  Stories (3)
^ top
|
“There are People that like Chemistry?”
"Hello," said the classroom as the principal and I entered. "Sit down," said the principal, "my dear, you can work here; this is Rosa's class." I nodded my head and walked across the room. And I say with utmost sincerity that in my life I've never heard such an even-toned, loud, and, in my opinion, a bit frightened, hello.
They were learning chemistry. The teacher was explaining the lesson while the students were all ears, listening avidly. They were leaning towards each other whispering things into each other's ears. I started to take pictures. They were all crowded together but the teacher ordered them to sit back in their seats with her glance. Then there was Rosa. She was sitting by the window in the third row. We waved and smiled at each other.
"Who would like to come up to the board?" The teacher had hardly finished her sentence when they all started up at the same time: "Should I come...Please, let me come." People still like this subject, apparently—and it looks like this entire classroom is filled with future chemists. They were jostling one another about, one student was promising another student candy if he didn't go up to the board, so that the first student could go. If only I'd been in this class I'd never have been short on candy. No one was hiding their face. Was someone filming them? Or what? I'm picturing what would happen if someone came and photographed my classroom. The photos would show faces covered with their hands, heads resting on their desks, and you'd see very clearly how nice and clean the chalkboard was.
The bell rang. No one left their seat; whereas the majority of my classmates would already be in the cafeteria by now and the rest would already be on their cell phones talking about something or other.
"You're free, children."
Only after this did they begin to move. They approached me and began to ask me questions: where I was from, what my name was, why I was taking their pictures, and if they will be getting copies of these photos. Answering their questions I asked, "Kids, do you like chemistry?"
"Yes, very much, it's one of the best subjects."
"You're joking, right?"
"No, of course not."
They were actually serious.
Still I don't like chemistry, and that's all.
Arpen Chichakyan
15 years old
Find Arpen Chichakyan's all Stories (3)
^ top
|
“Gullible and Simple Rosa”
"You know," she was saying, "we're a family of four: me, my brother, my mother and my father. It's tough when you have a big brother. He's always bossing me around and demanding I do what he thinks is right. Also, my parents trust him and agree that he's always right. Despite all this, I love my family best of all. In school I like the subjects physics, chemistry, Russian, and math. Oh, and I shouldn't forget to say that I am a star pupil. Look at me carefully now, don't I look Russian? Until I was seven years old I had very, very fair hair and skin; now they've darkened just a little, but whatever. Yeah, if I wasn't Armenian I'd've wanted to be Russian. I like the Russian language and the Russian people. When I talk with my girlfriends many of them dream of a boy that is strong, smart and a good leader. I don't dream about those things, to tell the truth, I don't picture myself with a boy, I'm more interested in just being a girl. I'm telling you about my dreams. I want to have a big and splendid car, a nice, pretty house, an interesting and—why not—profitable profession. Yes, and I very much want, like you and the rest, to attend Manana.
There's Rosa. She's happy, light and smiley, full of faith, and she thinks of her future with the right aspirations.
Arpen Chichakyan
15 years old
Find Arpen Chichakyan's all Stories (3)
^ top
|
“Take Your Turn”
"Can I take your picture?" I asked some card-playing grandpas. "No, you cannot," said one of them who appeared later to be their leader, or more correctly, the most talkative.
"Why can't he?" my father, who was standing beside me, asked.
"Where are you from," asked the same grandpa.
"From Yerevan."
"But why are you demolishing our factories?"
For a moment we were very surprised and didn't know how to respond.
"It's because of those demolished factories that for the whole day we sit under this wall and don't know how to pass the time."
"Take your turn," said the Grandpa next to him.
But the first grandpa went on with his speech.
"Because you're continually complaining that the Turks committed Genocide, but if you hadn't allowed it, they wouldn't have done it. You know, right? that the Turks are Mongols. They came in the 10-something-eth century to conquer Armenia."
"I'm telling you to take your turn. We’ve all heard the story you're telling."
"When will you learn that it’s not all related to commerce?"
And that grandpa spoke for a long time, so I had time to take a few pictures. When we were leaving my father said that he would come back and make a movie about these men. The verbose grandpa became excited and said that he could fly from rooftop to rooftop like Tarzan.
Hovnan Baghdasaryan
13 years old
Find Hovnan Baghdasaryan's all Stories (11)
^ top
|
“My New Friend Mane”
The five members of this family are a grandmother, a mother, a father, a sister and my friend. The grandfather has died. The mother was working as a weaver until the shop closed. No one in the family is working right now.
"My mother needs to go get a new job," Mane said.
Her sister's name is Gayane, she's 11 years old. Mane and Gayane fight a lot, like all sisters. They fight over the television, dresses, notebooks and trivialities.
"When they're asking me who do you like the most, your mother or your father, I answer, 'my grandmother’," Mane said.
Mane’s grandmother's name is also Mane. She likes her the best and takes care of her. Mane often plays with her grandmother and spends a lot of time with her. For example, they play cards, "dourag," "four cards," etc.
Mane really wants to grow up and get married. One of her reasons is that no one plays with her enough. They say, "you're too small, go away."
But on the other hand she has four bosom girlfriends, three of whom, Anna, Inessa, and Sara, she knows from her courtyard, and the fourth, Vartouhi, is from her village. They play with each other often. Mane wants to continue playing children's games with her friends and for that reason she wants to remain a kid.
Mane does not like to attend school. She wants to stop after eigth grade.
She wants to become a beautician because she's seen how her mother makes herself up and wants to try it on other people. One time when she was little she took her mother's lipstick and drew all over her face. Her entire face had lipstick on it. When her father saw it he got mad... but now Mane wants to be the world's best beautician.
Mane really wants a computer. She wants to sit in front of it and play and play.
When she was young and watched the t.v. show "Power Rangers,” she really wanted to be a power ranger.
"One time I was fighting with my sister. She and I both wanted to be the red ranger," Mane said.
Mane is in the fourth grade. She really likes to take pictures. She also really likes her teachers, and playing with them.
I think Mane is a very cheerful and friendly girl.
Inna Aznauryan
14 years old
Find Inna Aznauryan's all Stories (2)
^ top
|
“Smiling, Sad Maria”
What should I say? Smile, smile, smile. This is how Maria is. The smiling girl who has a big sorrow in her heart. But despite that she is smiling.
"Maria, come on, let's go for a walk."
"I can't. I have to take care of my mother and clean up the house. Oh no, I haven't even done my homework."
She has a sick mother. The care of the entire house is on her shoulders. But she smiles. When I enter their house it is sparkling clean. Maria is quite weary. But still she smiles.
"Mom, let me finish my homework and we can go out and get some fresh air together."
Maria finishes her homework and takes her mother out on a walk. She returns to a weary home, but the important thing is that she always smiles.
Kristine Sargsyan
14 years old
Find Kristine Sargsyan's all Stories (4)
^ top
|
“Triangle”
"Asya, Asya," Maria entered the room yelling. "What are you shouting about?"
"You won't believe it, I've fallen in love."
"Maria, it seems to me that I've also fallen in love."
"Asya! Who is it?"
"First you tell me."
"No, you first."
After a bunch of fighting they decided that they should write his name down on a piece of paper, then swap papers so that they'd learn the boys' names at the exact same time. They wrote the names down and swapped them. Now, imagine Maria's face when she opened up the piece of paper and in big, pretty letters she saw the name of the boy that she liked written down.
"You like Jamal?"
"Yeah, and it looks like you do to."
Both of the classmates simply liked Jamal. He was Kurdish and lived a couple of houses away from Maria. When the girls realized that they both liked Jamal they became enemies. They both went down into the schoolyard to steal Jamal's heart. They wore pretty dresses, their mother's heels, and were made up in their mother's cosmetics. The boy didn't understand any of it. He liked them both the same. But all one of the girls needed to do was make one mistake and she’d get put down by the other in front of the boy.
A while passed and little by little they grew bored with Jamal. After this they became even better friends. And in fact, Jamal turned them into his close friends as well.
Now Jamal is in Maria and Asya's class and as before lives several houses away from Maria. The girls are again wearing pretty dresses, and already wearing high heels and putting on make up. They're adorning themselves not for Jamal's sake but to impress one another.
Kristine Sargsyan
14 years old
Find Kristine Sargsyan's all Stories (4)
^ top
|
“Angela”
We were on a walk in the dormitory yard looking for new people. At that time a boy approached us and invited us over to his house. We happily agreed to go.
The boy's house was on the third floor of the dormitory. His family’s room was very different from the other rooms. It was so well furnished, with carpets hanging from the walls. The boy introduced us to his mother, Angela. She told us Hajn is full of problems; for instance, she didn't have a job. "Now everyone is insolvent. If there was any opportunity I'd get away from here." My attention was caught by her date palm that was growing quite healthily.
Angela, noticing that I was looking at her tree, said that there wasn't a tree like it in Armenia and that her brother had brought it from Africa. She was weaving very skillfully.
"Are you going to sell what you weave?"
"No. I just weave for myself."
Angela has lived in this dormitory almost all of her life. She offered us coffee.
"In the evening the boys play games with their friends in the house," Angela told us, "and during that time I prepare our meals on the stove in the common hall."
Mery Sharoyan
12 years old
Find Mery Sharoyan's all Stories (4)
^ top
|
“Grandma Marietta”
My friends and I were walking down the hall and we knocked on a door. The door was opened by a woman of about 50 years old.
"Hello. Can we ask you a couple of questions? We are writing a report."
"Certainly. Come in," said Grandma Marietta.
She lived by herself. She had no husband or children. "I worked at one time at ‘Shoghag.’ I was a storekeeper, and a diamond polisher." But then they closed ‘Shoghag.’”
Grandma Marietta came to Armenia from the village of Kedashen in Azerbaijan in 1985.
"At the time that I came to Armenia there were no massacres in Azerbaijan yet. And later, during the massacres, my relatives came. Thank God that none of my relatives were killed on account of the massacres."
We noticed that on the foot stool in her house there were spools of thread and yarn.
"Are you weaving?" I asked.
"Yes, I feel at ease when I’m weaving. And I still sew," then she showed us the sewing machine. "I sell my weaving and my sewing piece by piece."
Later Grandma Marietta showed us pictures of her nieces and nephews by her sister, who live in the neighboring village.
Grandma Marietta has the most unique and cheerful personality in Nor Hajn and, despite difficulties, doesn't get depressed.
"I am proud of my life. There are difficulties, certainly, but I don't let them get to me," she told us.
Mery Sharoyan
12 years old
Find Mery Sharoyan's all Stories (4)
^ top
|
“Parallels”
When we went to the dormitory in Nor Hajn, I started to make comparisons between them and me. I saw that a bunch of people were living there in small rooms. And I'm unable to share a large room with my sister; almost every day I kick her out. There, almost all of the people have one pair of clothes. And I, who have a dozen dresses, still protest to my mom that I have no clothes. Most of the people in the dormitory only eat potatoes, but I obey my whims and eat only my favorite foods...
The youth in Nor Hajn are the very best. It's true that it's a little cramped, but everyone is warm-hearted.
Mery Sharoyan
12 years old
Find Mery Sharoyan's all Stories (4)
^ top
|
“Outpour”
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.
Venera Grishyan
12 years old
Find Venera Grishyan's all Stories (6)
^ top
|
“For Love”
“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.
Venera Grishyan
12 years old
Find Venera Grishyan's all Stories (6)
^ top
|
“Garineh Armanyan”
“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.
Venera Grishyan
12 years old
Find Venera Grishyan's all Stories (6)
^ top
|
“Excursion”
“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.”
Venera Grishyan
12 years old
Find Venera Grishyan's all Stories (6)
^ top
|
“Impressions”
“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.
Venera Grishyan
12 years old
Find Venera Grishyan's all Stories (6)
^ top
|
Children's Pages
| Old Sites
| Donations
Newspaper |
