Bedrest

Monday, July 9, 2007
Bedrest
On the Last night of the pilgrims’ trip we visited Tseetsernagapert (Armenian Genocide Memorial), definitely one of my most favorite spots, and up to now one of the most surreal moments I've had in my life. I like quoting people or doing my best to understand what they're saying so here I go. I think this was said during Matt Ash's last Sermon at the memorial, and it really got me thinking. He said that the pilgrims have seen some of the good and some of the bad and the only difference between Pilgrims and Interns is that we'll see more of the good and unfortunately more of the bad. In this moment I thought about bad as being subjective, at least from my point of view. Bad wasn't seeing broken buildings in Gyumri and the renovation of the city after it was devastated and it surely wasn't passing through villages where people don't have many belongings either. The beginning of the bad for me, other than stomach aches, was when we reached the ruins of Ani. Escorted to the border of the Crevasse looking across to see what used to be my homeland stripped away. Maybe where they stopped, or maybe where we stood. Regardless, I felt a sickness in my stomach as the Turkish guard closely watched over our shoulders to make sure we didn't capture this moment with our cameras on Armenian soil. Thinking about it wrenches my stomach and it’s not just because I have the day flu at this moment. I just thought that at this point in time, we would have the freedom to capture this moment, the ancient relics, that ancient city with so much importance. So I sat took it in realizing that what was in front of me was ours, but wasn't ours at all. A paradox. I took pictures regardless. Looking in the distance next to one of our crumbled churches I see the Turkish flag waving in the air. Everything happens for a reason they say, finding a reason for all of this will be tough and it will be an on going struggle for who knows how long. I sat down took some deep breaths realized that this practically was the eye of the storm. The closest I'd ever be to a true enemy of my people, systematic genocidal murders. I can't say I wish it never happened because the past is the past and what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. But I think of why my Grandpa was an orphan, his necessity to collect what looked like junk to most of us, but treasures and trinkets to him. He never had these things and decided to keep them close. Ok, so I'm trying really hard to not go off on tangents, but it’s tough. Someone said when you look around at other Armenian's from other places whether it be Turkey, Iran, Russia, Georgia, Lebanon, Israel. There's only one difference, that your ancestors took a left instead of a right in the desert. So I'm thankful for that struggle, that trek, the journey that leads us to be unique, strong, and a defined culture. And I ask God to have mercy on the Turks.
Other than that all is well, I'm feeling much better now.
Much Love,
Vaughn Eyvazian