The past weekend in Artsakh reinforced for me the notion that has been lingering on the periphery of my
consciousness since I arrived in Armenia: that syntax and semantics are vital
aspects of Armenian culture and its maintenance.
You can easily dismiss
this as the rambling theories of a girl lost in the midst of language and
"the journey of self-discovery", but hear me out.
Artsakh was a province
in Historic Armenia which for hundreds of years was disputed territory despite being predominately inhabited by Armenians and which now, due in part to the indiscriminate scribbling of borders
which preceded the collapse of the Soviet Union, is a region whose
"ownership" is contested by Armenians and Azeris. The majority of ancient Artsakh is
now referred to as Nargorno-Karabakh Repbulic and is not recognized as an independent state.
Though the name Artsakh
is antiquated, we, Armenians, continue to use it. This is a purposeful and
tactful use of language which we apply to many other aspects of our culture
especially when it comes to geo-politics.
Armenians are in the
practice of speaking things into existence; the idea that if I say something enough
times it will become true.
Like if we say Western
Armenia (which the rest of the world identifies as Eastern Turkey) enough
times, eventually this land where our ancestors
thrived for centuries, this land which is
soaked in their blood, this land which is heavy
with the dust of their bones, it will once again be “ours”.
We talk about Mt. Ararat
with pride and fervor as though we could simply walk the few kilometers across
the border and hike her slopes. We note that though she is not currently part
of our land, she will be some day. Even though she isn’t. Even though she
probably never will be again. (Ararat has two peaks, Sis and Masis, which are both male names but I continue to think of her as a female presence and will continue to refer to her as such.)
We avoid using the name Nargorno Karabakh and by continuing to use the name Artsakh when referring to NKR, we remind ourselves that the land is part of Armenia and part of our heritage. It is also a not so subtle reminder to others that we have not forgotten this fact and that they shouldn't either.
As far as most Armenians
are concerned, the free and independent Republic of Nagorno-Karabakh will
always be Artsakh (Արցախ). Ararat will always
be a part of Armenia just as Eastern Turkey will always be Western Armenia. This is a combination of obstinate Armenian pride and dedication
to the syntax and semantics of our Armenian existence.
As I write this in between lesson planning for Creative Writing Club, I feel the need to summarize my meaning in a way that is palpable to any reader or writer regardless of culture, age or proficiency. In guiding students in Creative Writing in a language that is not their own, I find that simplicity is best.
Brilliant and stirring, befitting the intellect and character of the writer
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