A story about Berd- by Serop Sayadian

"To be or not to be? That is the question!" says Henry, passionately, as he so beautifully gives the first toast at the dinner table. It was one of the very few phrases he knew in English. And ironically, he would say it with more emotion than any US native I have ever heard. His white hair and wrinkles made him inherently wise. He'd raise both arms in the air when he said it, even though one was heavily injured from the war. But why was he saying this? I wasn't quite sure because the rest of his toast was a hybrid of Russian with Armenian; but I figured it was because he wanted to speak some English simply to relate with us, and also make us giggle (in which he was successful). And it wasn't until tonight, 2 weeks later, that I realized how wrong I was in thinking that.

Rewind 5 hours. We (CYMA) had just arrived in Berd, a village north east of Yerevan in the province of Tavush. CYMA was ecstatic about an opportunity to live and volunteer in the village for an entire week. Standing next to a big group of villagers, the entire group waited anxiously to see which host family they would be paired with. Before any pairings had occurred, a gentleman walks up to me and introduces himself as Krikor. I told him, proudly, that my name was Serop. It's so uplifting to be able to introduce my name and not be asked to repeat it slowly with more diction like I would have to if I was in the states. I fit in. "Urakh em!!" Krikor replied. He tells me that I would be staying with his family for the next week and that we would be having dinner at his fiances families house that night. So we threw the bags in the car and left. We arrived at Henry's house.

They lived in a home 1 kilometer away from the Azerbaijan border. One side of their house was completely destroyed from a bomb during the war in the early 90's. Surrounding their house was beautiful trees with raspberries, blackberries and mulberries; they were the most delicious fruits I have ever had the pleasure to taste. They also had chickens, turkeys, a rooster and a donkey. Three families were there that night: Hrach's (Andrew and Zach's host), Irina's (Naryne's host) and Krikor's (mine). Once everyone was introduced, we sat at the table for a dinner that was made almost completely by what they had on their farm, including the tuti oghi (mulberry vodka).

Henry was the master of toasts. Even though I'm pretty sure it was the exact same toast every time, I was perfectly content with that. "To be or not to be? That is the question!" I had obviously heard it before from when we read Shakespear's Hamlet in high school. Never, though, did it really make as much sense to me as it does now.

For the duration of our stay in the village, we lived a relatively uncomfortable life: no showers, toilets, washing machines or running water. At first, it was tough. But after acclimating, you realize that these people live this life everyday and probably will for the rest of their lives. They're still smiling, laughing, loving. Why shouldn't I be able to? It was humbling yet eye-opening. At one point, I overheard somebody say something that most of us were probably thinking, "How can you live like this?"

It made me think. What is living? Is it being able to wake up in the morning to your I-phone alarm, taking a long hot shower, driving your BMW 5-series to Starbucks and bitterly drinking your frappucino because they forgot the extra shot? Or is it just waking up in the first place? Living. Isn't it 'to be' instead of 'not to be'?

Sometimes I think that we all forget to live, to be. We are so fortunate to be here on this earth; but life can, and does, distract us. I would look at these villagers and see the genuine smiles on their faces when they saw each other. That's all they had, each other. We were meant to live in the presence of our loved ones because that is all we truly emotionally need, nothing else.

Henry knew this. Life is painful, it's inevitable. But when compared to the fear and uncertainty of death, there is no argument. Realize this, and you have conquered what it is to 'be'.

Thank you Henry. Thank you for what you did for me and my peers. I don't think you will ever understand what it means to us. So here is a toast, this time for you. God bless you my friend. Bless your wife, son and daughter and your new grand daughter Lilit whom you love so much. She is beautiful. And now I ask: To be or not to be? well sir... to be.

Here is a picture of Henry with his son and wife (Andrew and Zach's host family) giving a toast: a link