In trying to put on paper my feelings about Armenia after two years living here, I find my emotions in conflict with each other. I feel that I am generally an optimist, but I feel depressed for Armenia. I have come to love many individual Armenians, but despair over the lack of individual responsibility Armenians feel for their country. The over-wrought American expression “It takes a village to raise a child,” is not felt in Armenia. There is an under current of hopelessness in this country. I have been discouraged by the number of people who have asked for help to “get out.” I am really thrilled when I run into a young person who says that he wants to remain in Armenia and make the country great. But a part of me also wonders how that is possible.
I see myself as forward looking. I am always hopeful that things will change, and for the better. In Armenia I felt I was living against the tide. Because Armenia is land-locked and border-locked to the East and West (and South if you want to count Iran), this very poor country cannot advance economically until border issues are resolved. I have enormous sympathy for the Armenians in their relationship with Turkey. Armenians simply hate the Turks, and with justifiable reasons. The genocide of over one million Christian Armenians at the hands of the Muslim Turks in 1915 after decades of low-level conflict seems to have left the Armenians permanently depressed and unable to move forward substantially. Armenians are still discriminated against in Turkey. And with the increased rise of a Muslim consciousness in Turkey today I find it difficult to believe that the conflict can be resolved in the near future. The Armenians need an apology from the Turks. My hope is that Turkey will not be able to join the EU until it offers this apology, as many nations are asking, and that our President will use the word “genocide” in referring to the Armenian-Turkish border conflict, which hinges on a solution to the Azerbaijan dispute over Nagorno Karabakh. Our Presidents have refused to mention genocide because the US has military bases in Turkey, which take precedence over the despair of this nation of three million people.
Turkish citizens are news-suppressed, and students do not learn about the Armenian genocide. At the direction of the Turkish government, the incident “never happened.” But the independent reports from prominent European observers, aid workers, and missionaries leave no doubt about the indiscriminate murder of Armenian women, children, and old men. Christian Armenians who had lived in areas of the Ottoman Empire for centuries before it shrank in the 1910s due to excessive debt, war-mongering, and lack of a central structure became a target for the Turk’s drive for a Muslim state. For decades Istanbul Armenians had been bankers, merchants, and traders, positions not entirely compatible with Islam, and they were resented. During this period the Ottoman Empire lost Greece, the Balkans, what is now Eastern Turkey, and most of what became the Soviet Caucasus. (The story is much more complicated than what I’ve outlined.) I’ve come to believe that to psychically “save” Armenians, the Turks need to acknowledge what they did, and the world community needs to demand it. (There are 70 million Turks and three million Armenians in Armenia.)
I used to think that the Armenians should “just get over it.” The Germans apologized for the Jewish slaughter. In many other genocides, leaders have been brought to trial. The world community has condemned offending governments. But for political reasons, Armenia has not had the same backing. The country is not strategically important. The Armenians have a common expression, “I feel your pain.” They need to hear this for healing.
Armenians live in multi-generational family groups. Everything is passed down from grandmothers to grandchildren, including this ethnic pain. They hate the Turks, but I’m not sure that the Turks hate them; they just see them as “the problem” which is even more painful because it is as if the Armenians don’t exist, and never have, to them.
Armenia is also still remembering the good-old Soviet days, incorrectly. Education, business, work attitudes and ethics, and community responsibility are all still heavily influenced by the Soviet socialist period, though the Soviet Union dissolved in 1992. The country does not feel like a democracy, though it is in name, and it does not operate as a capitalist economy, though it is in name. Corruption is rampant in all aspects of society. A few families of oligarchs control strategic businesses and government.
I have often felt psychologically trapped in Armenian. It was knowing that I could not cross the border five kilometers to the West (Turkey) of Gyumri, to the South (Iran), or to the East (Azerbaijan). I’ve become very aware of how Georgia exploits their position to the North by charging unfair transit taxes for all goods that enter Armenia. Then the corrupt Armenian Customs Department levies unfair import taxes so that Armenians (per capita income is $3,000, though people I know make far less) pay far more for common goods of less quality then we do. In addition the border between Georgia and Russia is closed, further limiting trade.
I felt frustrated by my work in Armenia. You can’t talk to businesses about financing inventory when bank loans are based on human relationships (and holding your wife’s gold jewelry as collateral), interest rates are 24%, the payback period is always two years, and the supply of goods is uncertain (due to the customs and duty ministries.) Students don’t do assignments unless they feel like it, and if they don’t feel like it they know they can “buy” their grades. Plagiarism and cheating are rampant, and not seen as something “bad.” NGOs, who do social good, often inflate their numbers, hire their own unqualified family members, redirect donations to their own use, and lie on their reports. The list goes on.
But I have no regrets about my decision to live and work in Armenia for two years. I have learned much about another culture, another language, and about the effect the shifting alliances and politics in this region have had on shaping what Armenia is today. A friend related a story about a diaspora Armenian she met at the US Embassy in Yerevan who asked, in a meeting, what the Embassy was going to do about the sorry state of the Armenian National Art Gallery. The issues and problems in Armenia are huge, and this is the very least of them. I appreciate what many of the issues and problems are, and I am grateful for that understanding. But the solutions seem over-whelming. I know much of what has to happen, but how to make it happen is the problem. The corruption in daily life is so endemic and Armenians seem so passive about it; “passive” in the same way that they were to the Ottoman Empire’s encroachment on their human rights.
Final Chapter re the Library Saga
I spent well over a year on several projects that I had hoped would help the Shirak Regional Library in Gyumri. (The library is like a main county library; it supports five district libraries and 127 village libraries.) One project was successful; a bathroom remodel funded by USAID. Another project, to obtain a “biblio-bus”, has been approved, the Mercedes 14-passenger van identified, and it is in transit from Italy as I write this. The bus application process began last August 2010 and a major disappointment is that it did not arrive before I left (though I did offer to go to Italy and drive it to Armenia.) The van has been donated by the US through EUCOM. My major project was to try and help create a modern library. The catchwords are a “Center of Civil Society”, meaning public meeting spaces, free Internet access, access during hours outside the normal workday, and educational programs. I identified financial and material help, including foundation aid, help from the US Embassy, individual donors, support from librarians in Los Angeles, a US based architect interested in historic preservation, and the possibility of help from a historic preservation foundation. The goal was to identify a new location for the library in the Kumaiyri Historic Preservation Area of Gyumri. Then I got lucky. 2012 is the 500th Anniversary of the Printed Word and Yerevan was selected the Book Capital of the World by UNESCO, so the Armenian Government wanted things to happen to celebrate the occasions. The Armenian Ministry of Culture offered a historical building that was under renovation in Gyumri for a new library.
The problems became insurmountable. The existing library has 10,000 annual users, 80 employees (though at no time did I ever count more than 32 employees in the library at one time), 200,000 books (mostly stacked in piles to the ceiling in storage), and realistic space for about 10 users. There are also ten obsolete computers (four of which are available to outside users), two newer donated computers, and an actual manual “card” catalogue. An equivalent US library with 10,000 users (per the American Library Association) would have 7-11 employees, 20,000 books, and space for 40 users. While the new space is more than three times the existing space, the architect calculated that shelving all 200,000 books would take up all the floor space offered, and that the floors could not support the load. The director insisted that each of the 80 “cultural workers” had to have her own workspace “by law.” We talked to the director about a book collection management policy following loose US guidelines, such as dumping scientific books after ten years unless they have historical merit. This step alone would have eliminated a significant portion of the books, which are Soviet era technical manuals, many of which are more than forty years old. The director insisted that “by law”, no books could be discarded. (Knowing that, if given three hundred new books, the director would never get rid of obsolete books, I never offered new books from the numerous sources open to volunteers. The library simply did not have the room.)
My plan had been to help create a vision of what this new library would look like, create a floor plan with the architect, outline the steps to make the vision a reality, and then apply for grants and the other sources of funding to create the reality. As it stands, the building will be finished in December and the library will move-in in early 2012. The Ministry of Culture lacks additional funds to provide new computers, furniture, shelving, or any amenities. The director insists that I don’t understand the “law” which places all books (obsolete, non-circulating, non-relevant, etc.) and cultural workers ahead of the needs of library users. What I do understand is that the director is not a librarian and he cannot prioritize his books, he has immense status as the result of having 80 cultural workers, and, as was true in Soviet times, the end user is the least important part of this equation. The director has sole authority for the management of the library.
So we reached an impasse. The architect told him that she could not work on a project that she did not believe in. I told him that I could not work without her to create a plan to present to potential funders, and I told him that he was not creating a “new” library but was re-creating a Soviet-style library in a new space. As disappointing as this whole process was, I do realize that the actual move may cause him to re-think what we had discussed about creating user-friendly spaces. He feels that after the move, he can create the center of civil society, which he really wants, if he can keep all his books and all his cultural workers.
The problems became insurmountable. The existing library has 10,000 annual users, 80 employees (though at no time did I ever count more than 32 employees in the library at one time), 200,000 books (mostly stacked in piles to the ceiling in storage), and realistic space for about 10 users. There are also ten obsolete computers (four of which are available to outside users), two newer donated computers, and an actual manual “card” catalogue. An equivalent US library with 10,000 users (per the American Library Association) would have 7-11 employees, 20,000 books, and space for 40 users. While the new space is more than three times the existing space, the architect calculated that shelving all 200,000 books would take up all the floor space offered, and that the floors could not support the load. The director insisted that each of the 80 “cultural workers” had to have her own workspace “by law.” We talked to the director about a book collection management policy following loose US guidelines, such as dumping scientific books after ten years unless they have historical merit. This step alone would have eliminated a significant portion of the books, which are Soviet era technical manuals, many of which are more than forty years old. The director insisted that “by law”, no books could be discarded. (Knowing that, if given three hundred new books, the director would never get rid of obsolete books, I never offered new books from the numerous sources open to volunteers. The library simply did not have the room.)
My plan had been to help create a vision of what this new library would look like, create a floor plan with the architect, outline the steps to make the vision a reality, and then apply for grants and the other sources of funding to create the reality. As it stands, the building will be finished in December and the library will move-in in early 2012. The Ministry of Culture lacks additional funds to provide new computers, furniture, shelving, or any amenities. The director insists that I don’t understand the “law” which places all books (obsolete, non-circulating, non-relevant, etc.) and cultural workers ahead of the needs of library users. What I do understand is that the director is not a librarian and he cannot prioritize his books, he has immense status as the result of having 80 cultural workers, and, as was true in Soviet times, the end user is the least important part of this equation. The director has sole authority for the management of the library.
So we reached an impasse. The architect told him that she could not work on a project that she did not believe in. I told him that I could not work without her to create a plan to present to potential funders, and I told him that he was not creating a “new” library but was re-creating a Soviet-style library in a new space. As disappointing as this whole process was, I do realize that the actual move may cause him to re-think what we had discussed about creating user-friendly spaces. He feels that after the move, he can create the center of civil society, which he really wants, if he can keep all his books and all his cultural workers.
At Gevorg's Dacha
A friend, Gevorg, invited me to his dacha to celebrate Vardavar Day, a pagan feast which was adopted by Christian Armenia because it is a celebration of love, beauty, and mostly water. Children (and adults) are free to throw water on whomever they wish at will. A friend in Yerevan brought a SuperSoaker from America for the feast, and the kids call her "The Terminator!" We celebrated with horovats and of course, water.
Gevorg's country dacha, outside Gyumri
Perishables are delivered door to door
Horovats prepared by daughter-in-law's father
Gevorg's wife Annahit at table
Nearby Marmashen Monastery
Maria at the Library
I first met Maria last year at the regional library in Gyumri. Of eighty employees, she is one of two who speak English, so I leaned on her heavily over the following months to gather information and complete reports. Maria has a real glint in her eyes, a matter of fact attitude, and she is living a typical Armenian life.
Maria was married at seventeen to a young man five years older. As is customary, they lived with his parents. They quickly had a baby, Christina, who is now fourteen. Maria did not work and neither did her husband while they were together. They were divorced after seven years. She and Christina then moved in with her parents where they continue to live today. In Armenia this situation can be unusual. Often families do not welcome divorced children home. Divorcees bring ”shame“ on the families involved and very often parents will counsel their daughters to continue in a loveless relationship, even where abuse is involved. Maria is very grateful to her mother for her financial and emotional support, and for pushing her to get more education. Her ex-husband currently lives and works in Russia. She has never received any support from him. (It is very common for Armenian men to avoid paying child support by either moving out of the country or by working “off the books.”) In 2004, at 26 years, Maria started working at the library.
Maria’s mother is an actress, active on the stage in Yerevan. She has been in two movies and has traveled to the US as a performer. Her father is a musician and as a young man he performed with a group called Precious Stone. His partner was referred to as “Jag” after Mick. Now her 28-year-old brother plays guitar with a group, Bambir, which also includes Jag’s son. Christina wants to study performing arts at the university level.
Maria says that she was too young to be married, but at the time she could not be talked out of it. I asked her about re-marrying, and she told me that it is impossible. It is very rare for a divorced woman to ever remarry in Armenia. As she is 33, I asked her what is in her future. Her main concern is helping to pay for her daughter’s university education in three years. She also said that she feels exhausted just thinking about the future, as she really has no options. Her salary, which is 34,000 drams ($93 per month), leaves her dependent on her parents for a place to live and with no money for extras. Finding a “better” job is not really an option in this town, which has a 60% unemployment rate. When I asked her how she feels about the library, she said that originally she found it boring, but currently she finds it interesting and is realizing that there is a lot to learn.
I had talked to Maria about going to graduate school in library science. The first program ever offered in Armenia is two years old. But as is usual, just having a job brings security, and in Armenia most “workers” earn the same wages regardless of their education (a practice left over from the socialist Soviets), so the incentive to improve your knowledge to increase your wages does not exist. I suspect that Maria will be at this library for many more years.
Christina and her mother, Maria. Note Christina's T-shirt which is typical of those worn by Armenian girls. Christina does not speak English, and so she does not know what it says. But it is colorful, and in English, so it is "cool."
Maria was married at seventeen to a young man five years older. As is customary, they lived with his parents. They quickly had a baby, Christina, who is now fourteen. Maria did not work and neither did her husband while they were together. They were divorced after seven years. She and Christina then moved in with her parents where they continue to live today. In Armenia this situation can be unusual. Often families do not welcome divorced children home. Divorcees bring ”shame“ on the families involved and very often parents will counsel their daughters to continue in a loveless relationship, even where abuse is involved. Maria is very grateful to her mother for her financial and emotional support, and for pushing her to get more education. Her ex-husband currently lives and works in Russia. She has never received any support from him. (It is very common for Armenian men to avoid paying child support by either moving out of the country or by working “off the books.”) In 2004, at 26 years, Maria started working at the library.
Maria’s mother is an actress, active on the stage in Yerevan. She has been in two movies and has traveled to the US as a performer. Her father is a musician and as a young man he performed with a group called Precious Stone. His partner was referred to as “Jag” after Mick. Now her 28-year-old brother plays guitar with a group, Bambir, which also includes Jag’s son. Christina wants to study performing arts at the university level.
Maria says that she was too young to be married, but at the time she could not be talked out of it. I asked her about re-marrying, and she told me that it is impossible. It is very rare for a divorced woman to ever remarry in Armenia. As she is 33, I asked her what is in her future. Her main concern is helping to pay for her daughter’s university education in three years. She also said that she feels exhausted just thinking about the future, as she really has no options. Her salary, which is 34,000 drams ($93 per month), leaves her dependent on her parents for a place to live and with no money for extras. Finding a “better” job is not really an option in this town, which has a 60% unemployment rate. When I asked her how she feels about the library, she said that originally she found it boring, but currently she finds it interesting and is realizing that there is a lot to learn.
I had talked to Maria about going to graduate school in library science. The first program ever offered in Armenia is two years old. But as is usual, just having a job brings security, and in Armenia most “workers” earn the same wages regardless of their education (a practice left over from the socialist Soviets), so the incentive to improve your knowledge to increase your wages does not exist. I suspect that Maria will be at this library for many more years.
Christina and her mother, Maria. Note Christina's T-shirt which is typical of those worn by Armenian girls. Christina does not speak English, and so she does not know what it says. But it is colorful, and in English, so it is "cool."
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