Տէրունական Աղօթքը (Քէսպընուօք)

The Lord's prayer - 

Տէրունական Աղօթքը 

(Քէսպընուօք)

Միր տուոտը քի ըրկէնքն  իս, 

քուըյն էնոնը սուրբ թըղ ըննու, 

Քուըյն թէգէւիւրութէնը թըղ ուգու,

քուըյն ուզուըծը թըղ ըննու,

չուոցըր ըրկէնքը, ընծէն ըլի էշխէրէն ըրվէն։

Մեր էմըն ուրվէ հուըցը իսուըր իլէ տէօ մի։

Աֆ իրօ մի միր պարտքիրը,

չուըցըր մինք ըլի աֆ կինինք մի պուոըրտք ունցուղնէն։

Ըզմի թէճուրպէն մի տէնէ,

հէպու խէլըսի ըզմի չուորէն.

չիւնքի քուիյնի թէգէւուրթէնը, գովուըթը իլէն փուըրքը ,

յաւիտեանս յաւիտենից, 

ամէն։

   Vision: Vahe H. Apelian

Transcription: Rev. Yesai Sarmazian

  Design: Garo konyalian

K.E.A. global FB group Project 2015

Anna’s Love Story, No Less A Genocide Promise - Vahe H. Apelian

Friday, April 21, 2017

Anna’s Love Story, No Less A Genocide Promise

Vahe H. Apelian

Today I read Huffington Post reporting that “The Promise’ is a love story against the backdrop of the Armenian Genocide. No less were Roupen Sevag’s  and Anna’s love stories and those of many others long lost forever. The much lesser known Anna was my maternal grandmother’s sister-in-law. Here is her story.

My maternal grandmother, Karoun Chelebian, ne’e Apelian, was born in Kessab to Hanno and Anna, the latter from Boymoushakian family of Sev Agphpuyr (Black Spring). She had three brothers, Seron, Diran and Kerop, all were naturally Apelians. Her two brothers Serop and Diran had left to the United States of America before the genocide while their brother Kerop remianed in Kessab.

It so happened that Kerop eloped Anna from the Titizian family of Kaladouran for his bride, Undoubtedly her elopment became the sensational news of the time in greater Kessab even though young couples eloping against the patriarchal choice for a spouse was not that all that uncommon. With the aid of friends, Dr. Avedis Injejikian, Gabriel’s fahter, had eloped Dr. Soghomon Apelian’s dauther Mary for his bride.

Kerop’s and Anna elopement, however, was altogether different. Anna had done the unthinkable. She had crossed all by herself in the darkness of the night and through the eerie silence of the gorge and walked all alone all the way from the coastal village Kaladouran to Keurkune to her lover’s house to the utter astonishment of Kerop's parents and his only sister, my grandmother Karoun. Something had gone terribly wrong. Trusted intermediaries had worked out a plan for them. Kerop and his friends were to meet her in the cover of the night and escort her. But the lovers missed either the rendezvous point or the timing and Anna took upon herself to finish the task and wait for her lover’s return in her lover’s parental house. Never in greater Kessab had a girl walked all by herself to her lover’s house before. She had always been free spirited with a mind of her own and was also known for her beauty. Anna, however, was not to experience the tranquility of a family life with the man she chose to love.

Their elopement resulted in a bitter family feud among the families involved. Anna’s father had her engaged to a promising young Kessabtsi and their wedding was imminent. The families were in the midst of preparations for the upcoming wedding that would do justice to their social status. Their escapade must have been so sensational that over time a folk song evolved around them that continued to be sung during wedding celebrations in Kessab long after Anna, Kerop and most of their contemporaries were not around anymore.

They named their fist chirld Kevork, after the family’s patriarch. A few years after the birth of their first child, Kerop decided joining his brothers in New York leaving behind his pregnant wife under the care of his parents. His brother Diran was a pharmacy graduate from Istanbul. His other brother Serop had run a store in Kessab selling candies. That’s why he had come to be known as shakarji, someone who deals with sweets. It was a moniker that stayed with him throughout his life much like other endearing nicknames kessabtsis gave to each. Kerop was to bring his family after he settled in the New World and saved enough to cover the expenses for his family’s journey to America. 

In due time Anna gave birth to their second son. Kerop sent word from America letting her know that he wanted to have their son named James. The infant was destined to be an American citizen, therefore it was fitting for him to have a western name.

The family’s reunion was never to be.

One June 1915 the local Ottoman authorities transmitted to the kessabtsis the order for their deportation. James was a child when he also embarked on the perilous forced march along with his mother Anna, brother Kevork, grandparents Hanno and Anna, and his aunt, my maternal grandmother Karoun. It would not be hard to envision that all the adults shared in caring of the young deportees. The ordeals of their forced marches to their illusive final resettlement destination decimated the family. Only James and his aunt, my maternal grandmother Karoun survived. The popular account among the Kessabtsi genocide survivors was that their 1915 ordeal lasted three years and three months placing the return of the survivors to their ransacked villages sometimes in the fall of 1918 only to face the bitter winter ahead without having the provisions to weather it. 

The Kessabtsi survivors, on their way to their villages, saw fit that the young orphaned teenager girl Karoun, born in 1900, be married to the most eligible surviving bachelor, Khatcher Chelebian (Chalabian). Their wedding took place in their make shift camp in the outskirts of Deir Attiyeh. The town is an hour’s drive from Damascus. They were married in their rag tags. Their wedding was officiated by the groom’s brother Stepan who was known for his piety and knowledge of church liturgy. There was no registry to record their marriage. They were to do that after their return and when a semblance of law and order was established. They were married by the grace of God and consent of their fellow Kessabtsis. The young family moved to Karoun’s parental vacant house when they reached Keurkune, Kessab. James became a bona fide an adopted son as they also started raising their own children, my maternal uncles, my mother and an aunt I never had the pleasure of knowing. They named their children Antranig, Zvart, Hovhanness, Anna. Antranig means the first-born son. Zvart was named at the behest of her maternal uncle Diran from the United States. Hovhannes was named after his maternal grandfather. The last was named after her maternal grandmother, Anna.

Once the overseas communication resumed, James’ father Kerop managed to have his son join him in America. The records of Ellis Island indicate that James was in his teens when he embarked on his journey from Beirut on a French ocean liner. He was on his way to see his father whom he had not seen before. He was to live in a country that was alien to him. He had witnessed harrowing realities of the Armenian genocide and was growing up in Keurkune where electricity or a faucet at home was not even in their wildest imagination, let alone movie theaters or ice cream parlors. However enticing the latter may seem to be, they were alien to him along with language spoken. He spoke only Armenian and Kesbenok, the local dialect. His acclamation to the New World proved to be impossible even though he stayed in the country for many years. His father and his two uncles made arrangements for him to return home, to Keurkune where his grandfather’s lands would secure him a livelihood. He was the only male inheritor among the three brothers. 

The departure of his only surviving son must have been heartbreaking for his father Kerop. The 1915 Genocide had already deprived him of the cherished dreams he must have harbored with his wife Anna. His first-born son Kevork, his parents had also died during the Genocide. Throughout those heart-wrenching war years, Kerop must have kept faith to preserve his sanity and energy to work to make a living while awaiting news from home front. After the war was over the news that his son James and sister Karoun had survived may have given him hope. After the return of James, the realization of the enormity of his loss may have weighed heavy on him anew. A sense of hopelessness may have dampened his spirits and broken his will. It was rumored that he even attempted to commit suicide. He passed away in Bronx, New York. It is not hard to surmise that he was a broken man, a far cry from the dashing handsome young man who stole Anna’s heart. He had become another victim of the Genocide although oceans and continents away from the killing fields.

Upon his return, Kerop’s surviving son James started his own life in Keurkune, Kessab. He married Sirvart Chelebian, my maternal grandmother Karoun’s sister-in-law. They named their firstborn son Kevork in memory of the brother James lost during the Genocide, their second son Kerop in memory of James’ father and their daughter Annais in memory of James’ mother Anna.

As to Anna, her grandson Kevork George Apelian immortalized her in his second book  titled “Anna Harseh”, (Anna-the Bride). In the novel Anna immerges as the independent, free spirited, stunningly beautiful girl who wanted to live her life with the man she chose to love against her father’s wish.

Anna (Titizian), the beautiful and strong willed girl from Kaladouran who broke her father’s heart and left his choice for her to pursue her heart’s calling did not live the promise the life she must have dreamed. She succumbed much like the rest of the 1.5 million Armenian victims of the first Genocide of the twentieth century. Much like the rest of the Genocide victims she also does not have a known burial site, let alone a tombstone. Unlike most of the victims who remain nameless and anonymous Anna became an exception thanks to an appreciative grandson named Kevork George James Apelian who never had the pleasure of knowing her in person but cherished the legacy she left behind.

Although the name Ann became prejudicial in the family but the memories of those in family named Anna perpetuated. My maternal grandmother Karoun ruled against naming daughters Anna anymore. Her mother Anna, her sister-in-law Anna, and her own daughter Anna were struck down with misfortune. The last had died in her teens while the previous two had died during the Genocide. A variation of the name Anna evolved over time in the family in the person of my maternal cousin Annie (Chelebian) Hoglind, my maternal uncle Dr. Antranig Chalabian’s elder daughter and of Annais (Apelian) Tootikian, my maternal grandmother’s grandniece. Both are now  proud mothers and grandmothers.

“We Will Never Forget” - Vahe H. Apelian

Sunday, April 23, 2017

“We Will Never Forget”

Vahe H. Apelian

A hundred and eight years ago today, on April 23, 1909, Kessab was sacked completely as the aftermath of the Adana massacre. This historical event appears not to have been adequately studied by historians athough it is well documented in  reports by American missionaries who were serving the Armenian communities in the Ottoman Empire on behalf of American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions (ABCFM) .

Among these missionaries was Miss Effie Chambers, the beloved and much remebered missionary in Kessab. It is in her memoirs that she noted that on Friday April 23, 1909, “half an hour before the sunrise” the attack commenced. On Monday April 26, 1909, the NY Times reported the following: “Constantinople, April 25 - Dispatches reaching here from points in Asiatic Turkey bring tidings of Armenian and Turkish conflicts all over the country. Dr.J”M Balph, who is in charge of the missions at Latakia, Syria, telegraphs that the refugees are arriving there from outlying parts of the district who report massacres and the burning of towns. He also reports that there are the gravest apprehensions concerning the conditions at Kessab where Miss Chambers is one of the missionaries”.

Miss Effie Chambers was not in Kessab when the attack occured. She had gone Adana to attend to the survivors of the massacre there which had taken place early that month. In her report to the Board about the attack on Kessab, she reported the following: “our young men, 150, who defended the place and gave the people a chance to get away. The enemy was from 10-20 thousand. Our boys withstood them till noon. Then the enemy being reinforced and the young men’s ammunition all being gone away were forced to retreat and escape fo their lives, but even to the last they covered the retreat of helpless women and children who could not get away with the others, and got them to places of safety.” These young men were either members or affiliates of the Kessab Armenian Revolutionary Federation.

Dr. Albert Apelian, in his book “The Antiochians” writes that the southern neighboring Turkmen village Faku Hassaan (pronounced now as Fakassan), helped the fleeing Kessabtsis to secure a passage to the Mediterranean Sea and have their representatives reach Lattakia to ask the French and British consuls' help to evacuate the survivors reaching the sea. He aslo notes that the sudden change of guard in Constantinople, due to the dethroning of Sultan Abdul Hamid, and his replacement with the more moderate Sultan Reshad came at this opportune time enabling the French and British consuls to send boats to evacuate the escapees, without concern for repercussion from the Sublime Porte.

The Kessabtsis nonetheless paid a hefty price. Miss Effie Chambers acted as the secretary of the relief committee. In a report to the Board, dated July 17, 1909, the gave the following figures about the ensuing sacking of Kessab: villages receiving aid 11, number at present on relief lists 5251, burned Houses 516, burned Shops 62, number killed 153, widdows 79, orphans not over 15 years old 64. These numbers reveal the widespread despair in Kessab. In the same report Miss Effie Chambers noted, “All the wheat in Kessab will not feed the people 15 days if none comes from other sources”.

Miss Effie Chambers’ round the clock work must have exhausted her physically and emotionally. She felt the need to return home to Iowa after having served the Armenians for almost twenty years, the last eight years being among the Kessabtsis. Reports indicate that she was in the United States in May 1912.

Among other personal possessions she brough with her is an embroidery most probably the women of Kessab embroidered for her in gratitude for her dedicated services to the Kessabtsis between 1904 to 1912. The Chambers family safeguards the emroidery to this date. 

What is most noteworhty about the embroidery is the Armenian inscriptirons that reads “In gratitude from the Kessab Armenian Revolutionary Federation” (երախտապարտ Քեսապի Հ.Յ. Դաշնակցութիւնէն).  

Its English inscription on the top read: "To Miss E.M. Chambers in Memory of Gratitude"

The inscription in the middle read: "We Will Never Forget".

Miss Effie Chambers spent her later years with her brother Will in the old family home in Iowa.  She died on October 3, 1947 at the age of 84 and was buried in Chambers cemetery, which her grandfather, Ezekiel Chambers, had given to the community in the year 1857.

Կենացդ Քեսապ - Վրէժ Քասունի

Կենացդ Քեսապ

Վրէժ Քասունի կը գրէ.

16 տարի Հայաստանի, հայրենիքի մէջ ապրելէն ետք, վերջերս ալ մօտ 3 ամիս Արցախի մէջ մնայուն կերպով “ապրելէն” ետք, շատ կարեւոր բանի անդրադարձայ, գիտակցեցայ, թէ ինչպէս եւ ուրկէ մենք Սուրիահայերս սնած ենք հայրենիքի սիրով:

Թէ ինչպէս 16 տարի առաջ, առաջին այցէն իսկ, Հայաստանի օդը, ջուրն ու բնութիւնը այդքան հարազատ ընդունած ենք, շնչած ու ներշնչուած: Բնաւ զարմանալի չէ, որ այս զգացողութեան գիտակցումս տեղի ունենացաւ Արցախի մէջ, այնքան նման են… միայն ծովն է պակաս:

Արցախի մէջ երկիրը կը հպի երկնքին, եթէ քիչ մըն ալ ոտքի մատներուդ վրայ կանգնիս, ու քիչ մըն ալ թեւդ երկարես, ցերեկը կը հպիս ամպերուն, իսկ գիշերը աստղերուն: Ոեւէ Սուրիահայ, կամ սփիւքահայ, որ Սովետի փլուզումէն առաջ, եթէ Հայաստան հայրենիք դրախտը իր աչքերով դեռ չէր տեսած, բայց Քեսապ գացած էր, շատ լաւ պիտի հասկանայ այս զգացողութիւնս, երբ ամէն ամառ մենք Քեսապ կը բարձրանայինք, ու կը կանգնէինք ՍՆՏՐԱՆ լերան գագաթին ու կը զմայլէինք հեռուն, հորիզոնին, մշուշներու մէջ թափանցող Կիլիկիոյ լեռնաշղթայով:

Այս զգացողութիւնը մեզ մտովի կը տեղափոխէր, Հայրենիք, Հայաստան եւ Արցախ:

Այո, նաեւ Քեսապէն/Քեսապի մէջ մենք սորվեցանք, գիտակցեցանք ու ըմբռնեցինք մեր հայրենիքին պատկանելութիւնն ու կապը:

Քեսապը, սովետի տարիներուն, Սուրիահայերու համար, Հայաստան էր, եւ Քեսապ ճանապարհորդելը մեզի համար դարձած էր Հայստան ճամբորդելու նման բան մը: Քեսապի մէջ արշաւի կ’երթայինք, ցերեկն ու գիշերով, հայրենասիրական, ազգագրական երգեր երգելով, մեր ձայնը կը բարձրանար Քեսապի փողոցներու, արտերու ու սարերու մէջ:

Քեսապի մէջ կը համտեսէիք աշխարհի ամենահամով խնձորը, իսկ ան ով չէ համտեսած ու չի գիտեր Քեսապի հռչակաւոր կանաչ խնձորի համն ու հոտը, ինք կեանքէն շատ բան կորսնցուցած է:

Քեսապի Գարատուրան քարքարօտ, բայց մաքրամաքուր ծովափին կը մկրտուէինք ամէն ամառ ու բիւրեղ հոգիներով կը վերադառնայինք Հալէպ, Դամասկոս, Հոմս, Գամշլի… տուն:

Քեսապի օդը, ջուրը եւ հողը սնեց մեզ մեծ սիրով ու պատկանելութեան զգացումներով ու գիտակցութեամբ:

Այսօր, ես Հայաստանի, Արցախի, Հայրենիքի մէջ իմ օդս կը շնչեմ, ջուրս կը խմեմ, հողի վրայ  ուժեղ կը կանգնիմ, կ’արարեմ ու կ’ապրիմ:

Է՜հ Աստուած… Արցախէն, Հայաստանէն… Կենացդ ՔԵՍԱՊ, կա՛ս կ’ըլլա՛ս ու դեռ մենք պիտի օծուինք քու ջուրերուդ մէջ:

Արցախ, 10.07.2015

Արտատպուած՝            http://www.yerakouyn.com/?p=88662

“Killain” (A Memoir) - Zohrab Bebo Sarkissian.

“Killain” (A Memoir)

April 5, 2017 zbebbo

While writing my previous Monologue titled “Wall Between Kessab and Turkey”, many memories kept “popping up” in my mind. One of them was a meeting with a “mean” but legendary person by the name of Killain. (A nickname. Most Kessabtsis have nicknames, specially men).
As a young boy I have heard that Killain was the head of the Mahdessian (Mooghdesigunts) family/clan. The name although had no any special meaning, but through some stories that I have heard about him my perception of him was of a mean and fearful looking larger than life person.
The Mahdessian clan was a tight knitted and very large and rich dynasty that had dominated Kessab like feudal landlords up to the time when the Armenian revolutionary parties were established in Kessab in early nineties.
A fierce and bloody confrontations specially between the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (Tashnagtsootyun) and the Mahdessian clan headed by Sarko Agha, had resulted in many deaths on both sides, including that of Sarko Agha himself. He was succeeded by his older son Killain as head of the clan.
At the time although the animosity still lingered but there were no clashes between the clan and Tashnagtsootyun. The clan was “isolated” from Kessab by their strategically built residential complex that was built at a mountain side that dominated Kessab.
Killain lived a secluded life and never been seen by Kessabtsis at public locations in Kessab. His other brothers were very obedient to their older brother and were active in every aspect of the village life. They had a general store close to our house that was managed by the youngest brother, Yessayi.
It was a known fact that they were engaged in illegal trade (qachaqchuh) with Turks. The location of their residential complex was very well positioned for that purpose. Although it was very visible from Kessab, but the mountain side on which it was built was backing to the Turkish border and there were no other houses other than theirs on that mountain side.
We knew that they were selling school writing pads, pens, pencils etc. very cheap. With a close friend Soghmonig Apelian, we decided to go and buy writing pads and pencils as a pretext, and hoped to see Killain as well.
With some hesitation and without telling our parents we walked the uphill rocky road and arrived at a court yard and could not see any body. We walked to the stone built fence at the edge of the court yard. The view was spectacular. We were excited and start to identify our houses and other interesting places when a middle age lady approached us and inquired about our presence in their court yard. (Havoush)
When she learned that we wanted to buy writing pads and pencils she asked us to follow her and keep asking questions about who we were when a voice from inside the house facing the court yard called her name and asked what is happening. When she answered he said “arach yos tugh qoon” (let hem come here first).
From court yard we entered a large room. An older man the age of our grand fathers that looked and dressed like them, was seating on the floor that was covered with area rugs “kilims”. He was smoking Nargilai. (Water pipe). He asked us how old we were and whose children we were. We gave our father’ names, both known and active members of Tashnagtsootyun. He told the lady to give us what we want free.
While walking  to another building to enter a room that looked like a retail shop, the lady said “Killain baiboyuh shod jumart mort e” (Gandfather Killain is a very generous man). Me and Soghmonig looked at each other with the wonderment, was that ordinary and “very generous grand father” the mean and legendary Killain?. Despite his generosity we were sort of disappointed.
After that encounter I saw Killain once again. It was at the time when the Syrian government had issued an order for Kessabtsis who owned rifles to bring them to the police station (karakol) and the ones who fail to do so will be jailed. Killain had defied the order and preferred to go to jail rather than hand over any rifle.
I was excited to be able to see him again and this time not as a sitting ordinary old man. In order to go to karakol, he had to pass in front of our house. From early morning I was out in our front yard (poyuh) waiting to see him again. My mother preferred to stay at the balcony.
He came alone, dressed in traditional shalvar (the baggy pant) wearing a fez (cone type hat that you see Shriners wear during the parades). He looked tall and dignified person. When he came close where I was standing, just with an impulse, I walked to him shaked his hand and told him who I was and thanked him for the free pencil and the writing pads. He smiled and continued walking.
Later on “the talk of the town” was that, at karakol, and in jail, he had behaved in a very dignified manner and remained defiant. He also encouraged every on in jail to be brave and not give up and handover any guns. After that event, this perceived legendary “mean” Killain, became a real and brave legend for me and many of my close friends.

Zohrab Bebo Sarkissian.

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The Wall Between Kessab and Turkey - Zohrab Bebo Sarkissian

The Wall Between Kessab and Turkey

April 3, 2017 zbebbo

Recently it was reported that Turkey has built a wall between Syria and Turkey at Kessab area. Kessab is a village populated mainly by Armenians and Alevis. It is about half hour drive from the coastal city of Latakia.
Kessab has a long border with Turkey and is surrounded on three sides with high mountains under Turkish army control.  Kessab and its surrounding small villages are like “seating ducks” for the powerful Turkish army that controls most, if not all, strategic locations on mountain tops. Considering this factors, it is hard not to ask “why build a wall?”.
I was born in Kessab that was populated mainly by Armenians. I spent my early childhood there and have fond memories about the village life. At the time, the only official border crossing between Kessab and Turkey was called Mafrak.
I remember “crossing” that border only once and it was at the occasion of a meeting (gorushma) between the Armenians living in Musadagh villages in Turkey and their relatives living in Syria and Lebanon. The meeting was held at Mafrak area.
The event was like a carnival. Apart from relatives and friends meeting each other, there were many Armenians from Kessab, Latakia, Haleb, Beirut etc. There were many street vendors both from Turkey and Syria with kiosks loaded with every thing that human beings needed to purchase for basic livelihood.
There were Davul/Zurna bands and singers. The traditional circle dances were joined by almost every one, young and old. The food and drinks were plentiful for every one to enjoy. There were wrestling matches (gulash) by Turkish wrestlers and people bet money on the players they taught might win.
There was a fountain at the Turkish side from where we youngsters fetched water with pails, for drinking and cooking. That was the only time that I remember crossing that border to the Turkish side without the fear of getting caught by Turkish solders (askar) that our parents had warned us about.
As young children we loved to climb mountains and had “conquered” almost all the picks except the ones that was controlled by Turks. Apart from Mafrak, I recall “crossing” the Turkish border at two other locations that were relatively flat areas where there were no army posts or official border stations.
The first one was in Seevaghpor (Black fountain) village where my maternal grand father had a large field right at the border where he planted wheat. May be one third of the property was on the Turkish side and my grandfather did cultivate the whole field including the area that was beyond the border marker on his property. While plowing the Turkish side of the field, he always became defiant and cursed the French government for ceding the area to the Turks.
The other “crossing” was at the beach at the Mediterranean shoreline in the village of “Dzoovon toghuh” (The sea district). The beach was a bay between two mountains. On one side was the Guni mountain range under the Turkish control, and the other side was the Dunag mountain range controlled by Syria. (Our biggest property was in that district about twenty minute walk to the beach where we spent our summer vacations).
The border at the beach was divided by a small brook that almost dried during the summer season. There were no Turkish border station or villages at that location. Unlike the Syrian side that was rocky, the beach at Turkish side was sandy but never seen any swimmers enjoying it. Despite our parents warnings, some times we will “cross” to the Turkish side just for few moments as an act of “bravado”, rather than enjoying the sandy beach.
After almost sixty years of absence, I visited Kessab with my daughter Talin and my son in law Hovig Moushian in 2005. I wanted to show them the border marker at the Seevaghpor location, but the whole area was covered with thick bushes and hardly any trace of the wheat field.
There was a Syrian border station close by. We walked to the border station and asked the solders if they knew where the marker was and if we could walk to it. They were not aware of such a border marker an added that the whole area was no mans land and not accessible.
When we visited the beach it was exactly the same as I remembered it as a young child. The only thing new was the road built for Turkish army starting from the beach and all along the top of Guni mountain range.
With Talin and Hovig we climbed the highest mountain pick on Dunag mountain range called Sldran. We enjoyed the spectacular view of the Kaladuran valley doted with small Armenian villages and the Mediterranean Sea that looked like a blue triangle between the two sloping mountains. From that point the military road all along the top of Guni mountain range up to the sea shore was more clearly visible.
While I was reminiscing about my childhood memories and telling stories about it to Talin, Hovig was cursing the Turks while filming the Turkish army base just opposite of the Sldran peak with visible soldiers, tanks, artillery, etc. The whole Kaladuran valley was like “seating ducks” at the mercy of the Turkish Army.
As I said earlier the main Kessab village itself situated at the foot of Ballum mountain range that is also controlled by the Turkish army is as vulnerable as the Kaladuran valley. With all this strategic and military advantages in favor of Turks, I continue to wonder, “why build the wall?”.

Zohrab Bebo Sarkissian

A Glimpse of History Revealed

A Glimpse of History Revealed

After the return of the surviving Kessabtsis from the deportations during the 1915 Meds Yeghern (Mahajelek) around late 1918 and early 1919, Kessab was sort of self-governed up till 1921. The following story most probably happened during that time and is told by Jrayr Garboushian of Toronto. He has heard it from Hagop Sarkissian (Zoobents Hagop).

A French army detachment of about forty soldiers with a high ranking French officer visits Kessab and during a meeting with political leadership of Kessab he asks to meet the legendary hero of Kesab, Ovsia Saghdejian (Kara Dayee) who was the leader of the Kessab defense forces.

Kara Dayee has joined the Armenian Volunteer Legion (Gamavoragan qoond) from America and after the war of Arara in Palestine had escaped to Kessab and with other Kessabtsi volunteers had organized the Kessab defense force.

After the leadership was convinced that there was no danger to arrest him, they have asked two members of Trutsig Khoomp Joseph Garboushian (Hajaghbeents Joseph) and Hagop Sarkissian (Zoobeents Hagop) who knew his whereabouts to go and call him.

When Kara Dayee arrives with Missak Giragossian (Misaqo) and Zeron Garboushian (Hajaghbeents zeron) the high ranking French officer stood up gave a military salute and shook the hand of Kara Dayee saying "It is an honor for me to meet and shake the hand of a great hero".

(Trutsig Khoomp picture is printed in "Kessab and the Kessabtsis, 100th Anniversary of K.E.A." and in the latest book edited by Richard Hovanissian titled "Armenian Communities of Northern Mediterranean. Musa Dagh - Dort Yol - Kessab" published  in 2016). 

Qarbajak Bebo (A memoir) - Zohrab Bebo Sarkissian

Qarbajak Bebo (A memoir)

Movses Karabajakian (Nicknamed “Qarbajak”) was my maternal grand father and I have fond memories of him. My paternal grand mother Martha, died before I was born, and I have very faint memory of my paternal grand father Nshan, who passed away when I was very young. Fortunately that loss was more than compensated by my loving and caring maternal grand parents, Movses and Sara Karabajakian that we in Kessab dialect called Bebo, (Grandfather) and Nanar, (Grandmother).

Bebo was a loner and none conformist type of a person. My mother use to say her father use to be a very social person but changed dramatically after he lost his only son and the youngest child, Stepan, to malnutrition and disease during the 1915 Armenian Genocide “Mahajelek”.

Prior to the “Mahajelek” in 1915, Kessab leadership had discussed the possibility to resist the deportation, retreat to the mountain close to the sea, and defend themselves, but they decided in favor of complying with the deportation order. My mother used to say her father was in favor of resistance. May be Bebo thought if they defied the deportation order his son might have survived and thus stopped socializing with the “establishment” people who had decided to obey the deportation order. Who knows?.

I have never seen Bebo in public events or even in church despite the fact that, his wife our angle like Nanar was a very pious person and attended every church service. So did also my mother and her two sisters Manushag and Anna “moorkors” (aunts).

My mother use to say when they returned from “Mahajelek” local Latin priest, Sabatino, distributed flour to the people attending the church and Bebo attended one church service and got one bag of flour and never went back again. When father Sabatino saw Bebo and asked why he did not come to church again he replied. “Oon beety dean beety”. (Flour finished faith finished).

The memory of Stepan was always with Bebo. He named one of his most fertile land as “Stepanain badoruh” (Stepan’ lot) in “Dusaghaj” district and gave it his utmost care and whenever possible engaged me and my older brother Nshan to help him to cultivate it. He specially made sure we also harvested the fruits and the vegetable.

He also had named a huge “Geslu dsor” (Bayleaf tree) in “Ooshnok” district as “Stepanain Gaislain”. (Stepan’ Bayleaf tree) that stood majestically all by itself away from the cluster of bayleaf trees that was like a forest. It was my and my brother’ duty to harvest the black olives “gaislu bdogh” from that tree. (The oil produced from that black olive was called “gaislu tset” (Bayleaf oil) and used mainly to make soap). Bebo also named an ever flowing fountain at his “Dsmog” property as “Staipanain aghpoyru” (Stepan’ fountain).

Bebo never attended school and could not read or write but he was an excellent story teller. His stories were all about imaginary legends, heroes, kings, princes, vezirs, that used all kinds of hand weapons, rode flying horses, fought against evil creatures, dragons, etc. Needless to say, heroes always won. As any good story teller, Bebo made these stories really come alive and believable, specially for us the young children.

Bebo had made a deal with us that he will tel us stories only if we read him books that we borrowed from “Qratkhana” (Library). We use to sit in front of the fireplace, Bebo to the right side, and me to the left, while my brother sitting in the middle will read books mostly by Raffi one of the most famous Armenian novelist. Bebo use to listen with full attention and amazement while I enjoyed watching the “dancing” flames of the fire that was mesmerizing.

After may brother left to study in Antelias Seminary in Beirut Lebanon, it was my turn to read. I recall reading the Khachaqoghy Hishadagaranuh (The Diary of the Cross Thief) also by Raffi. Once when I read one of the characters in the book say he does not believe in destiny “jagadaqir”, Bebo ever attentive listener, interrupted and said “I do not believe in jagadaqir either, and added “you make your own jagadaqir”. Considering the village “conventional wisdom” that “every thing that happens to someone is written on his/her forehead”, this statement sounded like a brave statement that defied the norm, and got etched in my memory.

One of Bebo’ most joyous time other than spending time with us, his grandchildren, was when his best friend Hassan Agha, came to visit him once or twice a year.

Hassan Agha spoke Turkish and most probably was a Syrian with Turkish origin and lived midway between Kessab and Latakia. He seemed to be a wealthy person and brought us many gifts. He came with his wife his daughter and grand son younger than me and my brother. They stayed overnight and did some shopping from Kessab merchants. (My mother use to say during the deportation Hassan Agha had offered to shelter them, but her father had decided to be with the rest of the deportees).

During that two day visit there was a joyful and festive mood. There were plenty food and drinks and some other people from Kessab stopped by, and greeted Hassan Agha in Turkish Language. Among them was also Ovsia Saghdjian “Kara dayen” the legendary hero of Kessab. (I wrote a story about Kara Dayee and Garo Konyalian of Montreal, posted it on KessabHeritage.blogspot.ca and I think on Kessab Facebook as well)

Bebo specially enjoyed and cherished the occasional visits of Kara Dayee. At the time, Kara Dayee was a well built and dignified old man with a dark complexion and thick white hair. He will sit on a chair with both hands on his walking cane “baston” (that was like a revers J) as a support, and have a coffee and some intimate talk with Bebo, who also was a dignified but more frail looking old man with dark complexion and almost balding hair that looked more like Gandhi. Both men were soft spoken, brave, loving, caring, and altruistic people. God Bless their Soul. Աստուած հոգիները լուսաւորէ.

Zohrab Bebo Sarkissian.

April 8, 2017 zbebbo

Կիլիկիոյ Վերջին Հայկական Գիւղը Դրախտային - Քեսապը Դրախտէն Կտոր Մը Երկրի Վրայ: ՍԵՒԱՆ Ճ. ԱԲԷԼԵԱՆ

Կիլիկիոյ Վերջին Հայկական Գիւղը Դրախտային  

     Քեսապը Դրախտէն Կտոր Մը Երկրի Վրայ

                                                                            ՍԵՒԱՆ Ճ.  ԱԲԷԼԵԱՆ

Ուրբաթ, 21 մարտ 2014-ը, գարնան առաջին օրն էր: Կը պատրաստուիմ դպրոց երթալու, երբ յանկարծ հեռաձայնը կը հնչէ: Հօրեղբօրս տխուր ձայնն է: Ինչպէ՞ս էք, կը հարցնեմ: Լաւ չենք, առտու կանուխ Քեսապի վրայ յարձակեցան եւ արդէն իսկ շատեր ձգեցին իրենց տուներն ու գիւղերը եւ փախուստ կու տան: Շատեր նոյնիսկ ժամանակ չեն ունեցած իրենց անձնագիրները կամ այլ կարեւոր թուղթեր իրենց հետ առնելու:

Չեմ հաւատար լսած բառերուս: Տրամադրութիւնս կը խանգարուի: Իսկոյն կը բանամ Դիմատետրի էջս եւ կը գրեմ. «Աղօթեցէք Քեսապի համար, կարեւոր է»: Անմիջապէս հարազատներ կը հարցնեն. «Ի՞նչ պատահած է»: Բոլորին նոյն տխուր պատասխանը. «Քեսապի վրայ յարձակած են»:

Կ՛ուզեմ ինքզինքս համոզել, որ լսած բառերս երազ են, կամ ես սխալ հասկցած եմ հօրեղբօրս խօսքերը:

Քեսապը կը պատկանի Կիլիկիոյ թագաւորութեան: Մեծն Տիգրանի օրերէն իսկ հոն հայը իր բոյնը շինած էր: Սփիւռքի միակ հայկական գիւղն է:

Ասիկա երրորդ անգամն է, որ քեսապցին կը բռնէ գաղթի ճամբան: Առաջինը 1909-ին, երկրորդը` 1915-ին, իսկ երրորդը նախորդ շաբաթներուն, երբ ամէն մարդ ուրախ էր գարնան ժամանումով: Աշակերտները դպրոցներուն մէջ կը պատրաստուէին գարունը դիմաւորելու: Ի՜նչ գարուն, ձմրան փոթորկալից օրերէն շատ աւելի վատ եղաւ:

Տխուր եմ եւ անտրամադիր: Կը մտածեմ, թէ հայրս որքա՜ն բախտաւոր է, որ իր այնքան սիրելի ու պաշտած ծննդավայրի` Քեսապի այս գէշ օրերը չտեսաւ:

Թէեւ Քեսապէն հեռու ենք մարմնով, բայց միշտ մեր մտածումներով եւ սրտով հոն ենք: Տարին քանի մը անգամ անպայման կ՛այցելէինք Քեսապ տեսնելու մեր հարազատները եւ բարեկամները, վայելելու բնութեան բարիքները, զգալու հարազատ շունչը: Վերջապէս մեր հայրենի գիւղն է անիկա:

Պատերազմի պատճառով երեք տարիներէ ի վեր չենք գացած Քեսապ: Հակառակ պատերազմական վիճակին` որոշ դրական մօտեցում կար Քեսապի նկատմամբ, նոյնիսկ կը մտածէի Զատկուան արձակուրդին քանի մը օրով երթալ Քեսապ` ընկերուհիի մը հետ, որ միշտ կը փափաքէր տեսնել Քեսապը:

Միշտ աւելի լաւին մասին կը մտածէինք, դրական մօտեցումով կը փորձէինք լիցքաւորուիլ, սակայն դէպքերը հակառակ ընթացք ունեցան:

Վերջին տարիներուն Քեսապի վիճակը աւելի լաւ էր: Մեծաթիւ զբօսաշրջիկներ կու գային հայ թէ այլ ազգերէ: Կու գային մեծ ուրախութեամբ վայլելու Քեսապի բնութիւնը, լեռները, ծովը եւ ճաշարանները:

Աշխարհի չորս կողմերէն կու գային հայրենակիցներ` այցելելու իրենց հարազատներուն, սակայն, աւա՜ղ, չար մարդիկ քանդեցին ամէն բան:

Դիմատետրին վրայ ամէն մարդ կը գրէ իր զգացումները, բողոքները, նեղութիւնները: Ամերիկայի Քեսապցիներու ուսումնասիրաց միութեան անդամները համախմբուած եւ նամակ մը յղած են ՄԱԿ-ի Ընդհանուր քարտուղար Պան Քի Մունին, այլ նամակներ, բողոքագիրներ ու խնդրագիրները յղուեցան նաեւ տարբեր կազմակերպութիւններու եւ կառոյցներու կողմէ: Արդեօք պիտի կարդա՞ն այդ նամակները, թէ՞ ուրիշ հարցերու պէս այս հարցն ալ դարակներու մէջ պիտի մնայ:

Քանի մը ամիս առաջ, երբ հեռաձայնով կը խօսէի Միացեալ Նահանգներ գտնուող քեսապցի բարեկամի մը հետ, հարցուց Քեսապի մասին: Ան ըսաւ. «Գիտե՞ս 2015-ին կը պատրաստուինք խումբով Քեսապ երթալ եւ հոն նշել Հայոց ցեղասպանութեան 100-ամեակը: Միայն Աստուած տայ, որ պատերազմը վերջանայ, եւ ամէն բան լաւ ըլլայ»:

Ամէն կիրակի Քեսապի բոլոր գիւղերուն մէջ եկեղեցւոյ զանգերը կը ղօղանջեն` բարիք ու խաղաղութիւն աւետելով: Հիմա ո՞վ պիտի հնչեցնէ այդ զանգակները եւ հաւատացեալները եկեղեցի հրաւիրէ, ի՜նչ խաղաղութիւն, ի՜նչ բարիք, երբ Քեսապը ծայրայեղականներու ձեռքն է:

Արդեօք քեսապցիները կարելիութիւն պիտի ունենա՞ն իւրաքանչիւր օգոստոսին աւանդութիւն դարձած Աստուածածինի տօնը փառաւոր կերպով նշելու: Էսկիւրէն գիւղը հազարաւոր մարդիկ կը հաւաքուէին կատարելու իրենց ուխտը եւ հերիսայի կաթսաներուն շուրջ կը բռնէին Քեսապի աւանդական շուրջպարը:

Մեծ թիւով գրագէտներ, արհեստագէտներ, կղերականներ տուած Քեսապը յուսահատիլ չի գիտեր, քեսապցին գիտէ կրկին կերտել:

Քանի մը տարիներ առաջ հողի սահանքի պատճառով Գարատուրանի հողը սահեցաւ, եւ կարգ մը պարտէզներ քանդուեցան: Սակայն ժողովուրդը չյուսահատեցաւ եւ նորէն սկսաւ  պարտէզները ցանել: Քեսապի վրայ եղած յարձակումէն երկու շաբաթներ առաջ բարեկամներ եկան եւ ծառերու տունկեր գնեցին, որպէսզի պարտէզները մշակեն:

Հայը ամբողջ կեանքին ընթացքին շատ վատ օրեր ապրած է, շատ անգամ թշնամիները յարձակած են Հայաստանի վրայ, քանդուած են գիւղերը, եկեղեցիները, սպաննած են հայը, սակայն միշտ ալ Աստուծոյ վստահելով` նորէն ոտքի կանգնած է:

Հիմա ալ պէտք չէ յուսահատիլ եւ լաւատեսութեամբ զինուած` պէտք է նայիլ դէպի ապագայ: Դժուար օրերը շատ են, բայց հայը տեղի տալ չի գիտեր: Քեսապցին, որ լեռները փորելով  մշակած է պարտէզներ եւ շինած` տուներ, հիմա ալ պիտի վերականգնէ իր հայրենի գիւղը:

Յոյսով եմ, որ ուշ կամ կանուխ արդարութեան արեւը հպարտութեամբ  պիտի ծագի, Քեսապի ու աշխարհի վրայ ցրուած հայրենակիցները պիտի վերադառնան հայրենի գիւղ եւ վերականգնեն զայն: Դարձեալ եկեղեցւոյ զանգերը պիտի ղօղանջեն, խաղաղութիւն ու բարիք պիտի սփռեն, քեսապցիները եւ համայն աշխարհի հայութիւնը Քեսապ պիտի հրաւիրեն:

Քեսապի հողը  առանց քեսապցիին եւ հայուն չի կրնար գոյատեւել: Հողին սէրը եւ կարօտը կը կանչէ իր հարազատ զաւակները, կիլիկեան հողէն հեռու չի կրնար ապրիլ քեսապցին:

Արտատպուած՝ Ապրիլ 8, 2014