Nazik Armenakyan, Piruza Khalapyan
I was twelve during the First Nagorno-Karabakh War. My son is twelve now. I was exactly his age when we were protecting ourselves and winning back our villages. Today they took control of these villages again. We feel insecure now. Our generation still carries the burden of the 90s in our hearts, so it’s hard to grapple with it. The village is in a dire and uncertain situation. We cannot figure out what’s going on. Nothing good is happening so far.
The wall is close to the school which our children should attend. Is there any difference between the school being ten meters away or my house being fifty?
Zohrab Nazaryan
If we have fear, we shouldn’t live in this village. I have no fear, I must live.
I live here. I don’t even have a chance to take my family elsewhere. Everything seems easier from a distance. I am concerned about my children. I prefer to talk less, as they see a lot and understand a lot. The more I try to talk to them, the worse it will get. I let them understand things on their own. Whenever I feel they are worried about something, we talk. If I try to teach them life lessons, it will be harder for them. My younger daughter doesn’t want to ask questions, as if she’s got all the answers. As an Armenian parent, I try to communicate with my son, which is hard.
Zohrab Nazaryan
The village has changed. We are trapped in a corner, like we’ve already been robbed.
Nanny Herik
My mom died in 2007. I have been living here alone ever since. I was born and grew up here. My dad and mom were from this village. This is my dad’s house. I was putting the cattle to pasture and cutting the thorns while the Azeris’ bullets flew over my head. We used to keep livestock here during the war. They stole our three cows. We would no longer own our goods once they were taken. During those fightings, my mom – a full-figured woman – was hiding under the bed. I was looking for her and couldn’t find her. That was the situation.
I see everything from my balcony. How big are they going to build the wall so that I don’t see the Turks from my balcony?
Nanny Shushi
My heart sinks. Who would be happy to see their village like this? We live in fear lest we are not slaughtered in our houses. I would rather die from a bullet in my head…
They say befriend a dog, but don’t put down the rod. They killed so many young people. What peace? How can the parents of the dead soldiers be in peace? What peace?
Our small village had so many losses.
Nanny Shushi
If we are able to defend our village, then we are able to defend our homeland.
Haghtanak Nazaryan
There are few areas where the border is within the village. I live here. The school is just a stone’s throw from the wall. Believe me, I haven’t left the village since this turmoil, even on business. I watch the village from afar. It has changed. It’s like you go to bed at night, wake up in the morning and meet other people, like in a movie…
It will be harder to live after this. We had worse times in the 90s. We were short of food then, the Soviets were dissolving, there was the earthquake and the war. It’s just that we are defeated now and they seize what belongs to us.
The people who live on the borderline defend the homeland. The homeland is ours, the village is ours, the pain is ours.
A lot has changed in the village. The ties of kinship we had are no longer the same; nothing is the same any more. The movement of vehicles reminds us of the past. Everything hurts. We recall the past again.
Anything we talk about in the village is this situation. Soon we will forget about it too. Humans are like that. We forget the pain and the good things. But we forget the pain more easily.
I believe in vengeance, and that’s what I live for. My family and my village have been defending this land all our lives. If we are able to defend our village, then we are able to defend our homeland. There is no fear now. No one is afraid of war if it breaks out now. But I couldn’t imagine it would have ended up like this. It would be different if we knew they were also going to cede our village. It would be different. They didn’t give up the Azerbaijani border, they surrendered our border, our village.
Everyone in the village lives with their pain. Families will leave the village. Built houses don’t matter, those who will live in these houses matter.
Haghtanak Nazaryan