Previously in episode 3 we left Daniel’s diary when the Ottomans hanged Nazareth Chavach before he could die of his wounds.….

FROM DANIEL’S DIARY.

12- DEPORTED

April 1915 we celebrated Easter, the greatest feast of the year and a week later the deportation of Zeitun began, they were the first Armenians to be deported. By May all the town and its villages, 30,000 people, were deported to an unknown destination. We were part of the last but one batch, because we were the least dangerous people, my mother, a very religious (mouhabétdji) widow of 30 and her son, myself, a child of 6. The last batch of deportees consisted of the helpless, the sick and the invalids.

13- ‘GLAD’ TO BE DEPORTED

Not realizing the Calvary awaiting us I was happy that we would be seeing great cities like Marash. How innocent a child can be!

One year I found myself crying uncontrollably while standing on a mobile stairway about to board a plane – Turkish Airlines to Istanbul. The crying jag took me completely by surprise but it was not controllable or understandable, in fact it was embarrassing. My business colleague was shocked and wondered what was wrong. What was wrong? How could I explain? Deportation did not happen to me per se, it happened nearly one hundred years ago. But I have lived the ramifications and I have lived through the retelling, the referred pain and the collective memory of the Armenian Genocide. But here I was climbing towards a plane about to take me to Istanbul and I was going to be surrounded by the enemy. If you knew me you would know that I am not an emotional person and certainly not when it comes to business. And I certainly never harboured any ill will towards the Turkish people. But here I was helpless and I didn’t like it. In hindsight I can see that the decades of pent up emotions for the Genocide came out in a torrent on the tarmac. Imagine my surprise then upon disembarking in Istanbul, one of the most beautiful cities in the world – discombobulated hardly describes my emotions. I had never looked at a nation before the way I looked at the Turks. Most of whom were young like me, modern and hip. But I could not get out of mind the fact that their grandfathers could have taken part in the Genocide. What kind of people were these? Were they good, bad or indifferent? Could I do business with them? Could I be friendly with them? Would it be disloyal to break bread and do business with Turks?

And here is next Daniel’s Diary entry to keep you going until next time…

FROM DANIEL’S DIARY.

14- THE CONDITIONS IN WHICH WE LEFT OUR HOUSE

Ours had been a modest family in Zeitun, but after my father became a government official we were one of the fortunate families in town. His monthly salary was three pounds in gold, which was a lot of money in those days.

Father had spent his first salaries on improving our house, so that, when I knew it, it was one of the rather modern dwellings in town. Most of the improvements were on the second floor where we had a relatively larger hall with a wooden floor.

In spite of her intense religious feelings my mother did not want to leave our winter provisions to the Turks who were to occupy our house. They were either Bosnian Turks or Albanians. They bothered us practically everyday saying: “Now, this house is ours, and you must vacate it soon”. It is easy to imagine our impotent rage.

We piled all our provisions: wheat, flour, lentils, peas, bourghoul, molasses, oils, beans, etc- in the middle of the hall on the second floor, mixed them all together. Then we brought all the window panes and broke the glass into little bits and mixed them in with the pile of provisions, to make sure that the enemy did not make use of it. Then we left all the doors ajar and came out, never to see it again.
I wonder why mother and other Armenians did not think of setting their homes on fire. I suppose they all hoped that one day they might return.

To be continued..
Menak Parov…See you next time.