Where else such a thing could happen?

Vaհe H Apelian

 With relatives in Etchmiadzin Armenia , 1970

The title of this blog - Ուրիշ ուր՞ կրնայ այսպիսի բան պատահիլ - is a comment made by Avo G Boghossian, formerly from Lebanon, but has settled in Armenia with his wife. He made that comment to a posting by Vartan Tashjian who resides in Beirut. Vartan's posting in turn, pertained to a comment by Varduhi Ohanjanyan from Armenia. Vartan had posted Varduhi’s note on his Facebook page and Avo G Bogհossian had made that comment. I live in the state of Massachusetts, in the U.S. and am reflecting on that incident.  Such is Armenian life, that extends beyond Armenia and has a global reach. 

This is in translation what Vartan had posted from Varduhi Ohanjanyan: “Since the elevators are also for internal messages, I read it on my way to work in the morning: “Dear neighbors, 39,000 drams was lost in the hallway this morning. If you found it, please give it to Grandma Sirush of apt. 42. It’s her pension.” I took the elevator back up, rang the doorbell, and waited for the door to open with the money in my hand. Grandma Sirush opened it. As soon as she saw me with the money in my hand, she was confused. It turned out that I was the third person who had “found” the money.” PS: When I read something like this, I get emotional. Even if there are 42 apartments in that building, 3 out of 42 people are able to empathize with a person, to put themselves in her situation, then we are still very good. Let the good in us multiply, people.”

It surely is a heart-warming happening. In answer to Avo G Boghossian, yes it might happen elsewhere too. Surely it is a welcome anywhere it happens. What matters is that it happened in Armenia and resonated with Armenians far from Armenia. Behind the doom and gloom of politics in Armenia, there is an underlying thing that connects Armenians across the globe.

But I have a real situation that happened with me when I visited Armenia for the very first time in 1970, or maybe in 1969. The visitation was organized by the U.S.S.R. Embassy in Lebanon for the students of the American University of Beirut during the Easter break. We embarked on the journey in a plane full of students, among them a few of us as Armenians. Our first stop was Yerevan, followed by Leningrad – the present-day Saint Petersburg, and then to Moscow with a few days stop in each city. We flew from Yerevan to Leningrad and from there on a train to a Moscow which turned out to me a most memorable train ride.

Our, or should I say my parent’s relatives who had repatriated from Kessab twenty-three years earlier, in 1947 were alive.  I was not the first to see them. My mother had been invited to Armenia. She taught Armenian. My cousin Annie Chelebian Hoglind had also visited Armenia in her very young age with a group of other students from an AGBU affiliated Armenian school. Our relatives hosted me royally. I imagine much like they did to my mother and Annie. They stood arm in arm with me. Their hosting me in Armenia has remained etched in my memory, and also the following incident, among a few others that attested to the exceptional hospitality of the Armenians.

In Armenia with relative in 1970

I do not recall why, but I happened to be in a market and I bought a produce. Instead of putting it in a bag, the seller was having it wrapped. I asked for a bag, she did not have. At that very moment, a lady who happened to be next to me, opened her bag and pulled out a neatly folded plastic bag whose folds were visible attesting to its repeated use and careful folding for its next use. She offered her neatly folded plastic bag to me for use. It was so obvious that she had saved the plastic bag for her shopping. I declined the offer. But she insisted that I take it and use it. I did.

 The last time I visited Armenia was in 2015. The generation that had hosted me royally has left this world, along with my parents. Many of their descendants have left Armenia too and have moved elsewhere. Armenia in 2015 was way different from Armenia of 1970. Much has changed in Armenia as well. But that Armenian lady’s gesture of offering me her neatly folded plastic bag to her inconvenience, has remained etched in my memory to this very day and with it, my enduring sentiments for Armenia.