“Յաղթելու Ենք” - «We Shall Prevail»

Vahe H. Apelian

 

During the 44-days war, which basically was Armenia’s military response to the TurkaBaijan’s aerial and land blitzkrieg, the PM of Armenia came with the following battle cry,  “Յաղթելու ենք”. The translation of which is “We Shall Prevail”.

Regretfully, as we all know, Armenia lost the war against far superior military alliance of Turkey and Azerbaijan. The alliance was aided by hordes of mercenaries from Syria, Pakistan. There were other nations who militarily aligned with the Turks and Azeris, against Armenia although they did not take active participation in the war, such as Ukraine and Pakistan and maybe others as well. Armenia militarily confronted the unprovoked attack unliterally. No country came to its aid.

After the disastrous defeat, many factions in Armenia resorted  to ridiculing the PM’s choice “Յաղթելու Ենք” -  «We Shell Prevail» for battle cry claiming that it was misleading. Strangely some factions of Armenians in the Diaspora, who understandably did not take part in the battle, started echoing the same ridicule.

The claim that the battle cry was misleading is driven politically because  “Յաղթելու Ենք” -  «We Shell Prevail» was not and linguistically cannot be taken as a  public assurance that Armenia was posed to prevail in the war.

Much like in English, “shall” does not necessarily imply assurance, although it can but should be read in context.

Shall  refers to something that one intends to do.  It can also refer to something that is bound to happen but that does not mean that it necessarily will,  such as when we say:  “we shall be landing at such a such time.” One can bring many other such examples such as “the president shall be in office until 2024”. That does not mean that the president will be in office until the said time. 

I have taken a strong aversion against those who resorted ridiculing the PM’s “Յաղթելու Ենք” or “We shall overcome”  battle cry, and I wonder, what would have been their choice for a battle cry. 

Although many echoed the ridicule and continue to do so,  but  so far, no one has proposed any other,  even as a hindsight.  

On a further note, Krikor Kradjian recently noted in his email to his friends that the Soviet forces had adopted the same slogan - “Յաղթելու Ենք” or “We shall overcome” -  in their fight against the Nazis in the second world war during which, it is claimed that the Armenians lost disproportionally many more, some  300,000 combatants staking the viability of Armenia as a sovereign state. The Armenians refer to that war as the Great Patriotic war

Armenia celebrates the event to this day  on May 9^th as the Victory Day. Quoting Wikipeida “On May 9th Russia and a handful of former Soviet Union republics celebrate Victory Day, which marks the day after Nazi Germany surrendered and Soviet forces took control of Berlin, bringing the second world war (also referred to as 'The Great Patriotic War' in Russia) in Europe to an end.”

  

 

 

 

 

ՈՐԵՒԷ ԱՅԼ ԱՌԱՋԱՐԿ ՈՒՆԻ՞Ք

Վահէ Յ. Աբէլեան

Գրիգոր Քրաճեան հետեւալը տեղադրած էր իր ընկերներուն ուղղուած այսօրուայ էմէյլին (email) մէջ՝

«Երկրորդ Համաշխարհային պատերազմի օրերուն, սովետական հանրապետութիւններու ժողովուրդներուն կարգախօսը «Յաղթելու ենք»-ն էր։

Այդ խօսքերով ոգեւորուած պզտլիկ Հայաստանն ալ տուաւ իր «արիւնի ծանր բաժինը». երեք հարիւր հազար հայեր զոհուեցան։

Յաղթելու ենք ֆաշիտին՝ թշնամիին։

Եւ, Հայաստանն ու հայութիւնը անցուց այդ ծանր ու դժուարին օրերը։ Չկար ընտանիք մը, որ հարազատի մը կորուստին գոյժը հաղորդող «սեւ թուղթ»ը  ստացած չըլլար։

Հայաստան յաղթական դուրս եկաւ պատերազմէն եւ կանխուեցաւ թրքական բանակին ներխուժումը եւ հայութեան վերջնական հաշուեյարդարը։

Արցախեան վերջին պատերազմին, հայ զինուորը կանխեց Հայաստանի ժողովուրդի բնաջնջումը կրկնելով միեւնոյն կարգախօսը՝

«Յաղթելու ենք»։

Եւ անկասկած որ 44 օր դիմադրելով թշնամի (եւ «բարեկամ») հզօր ուժերուն, Հայաստանն ու հայութիւնը յաղթած են։

Մնացեալ բոլոր խօսքերը, խորհրդարանէն ներս՝  թէ, դուրս զրպարտութիւնները, դատապարտումը, ստեղծուած արուեստական խուճապը ... «խուլիկանութեան» համազօր արարքներ են։

Վերջակէտ»

Իսկ ԵՍ, իմ կարգիս, տակաւին չեմ կրցած արդարացնել՝ յետ պատերազմին՝ պատերազմին ընթացքին«Յաղթելու Ենք» մարտակոչին դէմ դէմ համատարած անարգանքը եւ քմծիծաղը։  

Իմ հասկացողութեամբ «Յաղթելու Ենթ» չի նշանակէր պիտի յաղթենք եւ ոչ ալ յաղթութեան հաւաստիք մըն է։ Լեզուականօրէն «Յաղթելու ենք»ը, չեմ ուզէր ըսել բաղձանքը մըն է, հապա  յաղթելու տրամադրութիւն է մըն է։ Կը հրաւիրեմ ընթերցողները որպէսզի տան  այդ մարտակոչին իրենց լեզուական հասկացողութեան մեկնաբանութիւնը։  

Կայ նաեւ հետեւալը՝ հապա ի՞նչ պէտք էր որ ըլլար Հայաստանի մարտականչութիւնը թշնամիին ձեռնարկած կայծանկնային յարձակումին դէմ ։ Որեւէ մէ՞կը որեւէ՞ այլ առաջարկ ունի՞, դեկուզ հիմայ պատերազմին շուրջ տասնըւմէկ ամիսներ ետք։ վսահաբար որւեւէ մէկը պիտի չ՚առջարկէր «պարտուելու ենք»ը։

Այո, ի՞նչ կ՚առաջկէք որ ըլլար թշնամիին դէմ Հայասանի մարտականչութիւնը։

Որեւէ այլ առարջ ունի՞ք։

 

 

 

A Laywer's Take on Another Lawyer: Matheos Eblighatian on Krikor Zohrab

Krikor Zohrab

Krikor Zohrab is one of the more colorful personalities of modern Armenian history. He was an engineer who studied and became a prominent lawyer, politician, Armenian community activist, and a writer of short stories depicting aspects of the Armenian communal life in Constantinople. He was endearingly called the “Prince of the Armenian (short) Novel”  (Նորապէպի իշխան). 

Matheos Eblighatian, a lawyer himself, had remained from his youth fascinated by the larger-than-life Krikor Zohrab, and devoted a whole section of his memoir (“A Life in the Life of My Nation” – Կեանք մը Ազգիս Կեանքին Մէջ) to  Krikor Zohrab  claiming to write “ what I know, have seen or been told I have been able to verify”. Matheos Eblgihatian’s memories of Krikor Zohrab make for a fascinating reading about the man and may be the most authentic account about Krikor Zohrab. 

I have attached in five parts my translation of the segment. Each segment has a header. You may read by clicking the link below it.  My translation was edited by maternal cousin Jack Chelebian M.D.  

Krikor Zohrab was martyred in 1915

1. Memories and Impressions

1.  https://vhapelian.blogspot.com/2018/06/krikor-zohrab-memories-and-impressions.html

2. The Engineer

2. https://vhapelian.blogspot.com/2018/06/krikor-zohrab-engineer-25.html

3. The Lawyer and the Writer

3.  https://vhapelian.blogspot.com/2018/06/krikor-zohrab-lawyer-and-writer-35.html

4. Krikor Zohrab Disbarred from the Ottoman Court

4.  https://vhapelian.blogspot.com/2018/06/krikor-zohrab-barred-from-ottoman-court.html

5. The Martyrdom of Krikor Zohrab

5.  https://vhapelian.blogspot.com/2018/06/krikor-zohrab-martyred-55.html

Our Afghan Friends

Vahe H. Apelian

My father with his Afghan friends

Kabul has fallen.  

But this is not the first time that I make a mental connection with Afghanistan and my parental family’s unusual friendship with Afghans that lasted more than a decade. Fifty plus years later, I can write about it with some comfort.

It might  have been fair that I titled this article as “My Father’s Afghan Friends”. Although he was the bond that cemented that friendship, the rest of  us as a family came along and nurtured the bond. 

My father

My father was born in Keurkune, Kessab. He had a younger brother and the two were the sons of orphaned survivors of the genocide. He spent the first sixteen to seventeen years of his life in Keurkune but left it in 1937/38 to escape possible conscription in the Turkish army as Kessab faced the possibility of being annexed to Turkey as part of the Turkish Hatay Province, the historic Alexandretta (Eskenderoun). Unskilled in any trade, like many Kessabtsi youth of his generation, he found employment as a server in famed Hotel Lux of the era. After a few years he left the hotel and ran a grocery store almost right across the famed Nshan Palanjain Jemaran and subsequently took over and ran Hotel Lux until its demise. Throughout those years, and for the remainder of his entire life, the Armenian word hajakhort –  client, customer, or guest – remained part of his daily vocabulary. That is how he made his living, by serving the clients. But there was something genuine in him. He served not because his job demanded it but because he was genuinely serviceable,  sociable, friendly and helpful. It seems that deep down we connect with each other well beyond words and social niceties, but through our guts. That was probably was how the customers of the Hotel viewed him for they kept frequenting the inn and spread the word associating him with the place as a single entity.

Lately I came a piece of paper on which my mother had jotted down her reflection of her husband of over fifty years. Realizing that the dreaded Alzheimers is clouding her memory, she had posted a note noting that it was “Solely for the purpose of remembering”. In it she had noted the following about him along with some sentimental notes: “He had a gentle, happy, considerate disposition, and with his friendly temperament, he had won the sympathy of those around him.” 

My parents with our Afghan friends

The Afghans

Most of the guests of the inn were Armenians from different Armenian communities such as from  Syria, Iraq, Jordan, Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, Far East, East Europe, etc. They were in Lebanon as visitors, on business, or attending a community function, or they were on their way to West or Australia as immigrants.It happened one day that two Afghans showed up looking for a room. They had newly arrived in Lebanon and were wandering in down Beirut when they had come across the sign for hotel Luxe and thus had come to check in. It turned out that they were in Beirut to set up a business exporting maInly animal hide and intestines, pistachio.

Some fifty plus years later I wonder, how is it that they took the chance and set a business venture with my father they had just met in a foreign country? I am sure that in their guts they found him a genuinely nice guy they could trust.

My father thus became their broker and set up a warehouse in the seaport, which was not far from the hotel, to store the goods for processing and merchandizing. His Armenian connections became handy. The animal hides and intestines needed to be processed. It turned out there were Armenians engaged in that messy work and had made good for themselves. The processed goods and the pistachios were then sold for export. Local, long entrenched merchant families were the ones who were engaged in the trade. There was no credit line, bank transactions, or anything of the kind. It was by word of mouth and in cash or on consignment to be paid upon selling the product. There too, my father’s Armenian connections came handy. Throughout those years I would see piles of gold coins in the hotel my father purchased from an Armenian street money exchanger. My father had rented a lady who sewed the gold coins in straps. Then there was another Armenian who made suitcases. Mind you, this was before the Samsonite era. The suitcase maker would line up the long straps of gold coin along the side of the suitcase and dress the interior with a cover. The suitcase was then carried as a luggage or shipped on the plane after having stuffed with light weighed clothing. The same tailor also made a special coat to Mr. Zaman, inside of which there were pockets for the gold coins or bars. As to coins, again it was the Armenian money exchanger, whose family name I rather not mention long after his death, even after fifty years later, provided the gold coins and the gold bars. Hard to believe now that this whole thing was done in plain daylight as an accepted business conduct. I guess Levantine business still lingered on. God forbid if  anyone forfeited his word. I imagine that the person’s family would be ostracized by the merchant community for generations to come. 

 Along the merchandizing we established a friendship that transcended business and became genuinely very personal. Later on, as the businesses took off, many others wanted to take over the brokerage on the pretext that my father was a Christian. But my father’s Afghan friends entertained no such notion and they continued to frequent the hotel, at times they brought their wives to be with us, a gesture of ultimate trust, having established a familiarity and comfort with us and we in turn enjoyed their presence and their company and along the way, Afghan music as well. On a further note, the goods mostly originated from Kandahar in Afghanistan and were transported on trucks. Internet indicates that there are two land routes, a northern and a southern route. Distance wise it appears to be similar to coast to coast driving in the U.S.

My father, Mr. Zaman and Sheikh Mujaddadi

At one point during their business venture, they hosted the son of a prominent Afghan Muslim cleric, whose family, we were told family of Muslim clerics. The young cleric had just gotten married and had come to Lebanon for his honeymoon. His last name was Mujaddadi. My mother was allowed to visit the new bride as she remained confined lavishly dressed and bejeweled in a five-star hotel in Beirut. When the  Grand Mufti of Lebanon and other high placed Muslim clerics organized a reception in his honor, he invited my father to go along with him. My father told me that he introduced him as his Christian friend. Recently  I checked on the internet and I came across a few Afghan Mujaddadi clerics. I am not sure if either one of them was that young man we met in Lebanon some 50 plus years ago. If not, I tend to think that more likely than not, there are related.

Much like many other things, our Afghan friends became distant memories in time as the  Civil War in Lebanon, that started in 1975. The hotel was sacked and looted and downtown Beirut became desolate. The civil war put an end to many  other relations as well as the world we knew turned upside down. 

Me with Mr. Zaman

 My brother in Afghan dress with Mohammed Raman's brother and the rest of our family.

Feast of Assumption: Why Grapes Are Blessed ?

Vahe H. Apelian

I recently learned from Hagop Tcholakian’s posting that it was feast of Vartavar that the Kessabtsis celebrated among the ruins of Balloum on Mout Gassios and not the feast of the Assumption of the Holy Mother of God (Asdouazazin). However, during my summer long stays in Kessab, the word Balloum was frequently referred to the Kessabtsis celebrating the feast of the Assumption. It is likely that after the annexation of Mount Gassios to Turkey, the word Ballum became associated with the Feast of the Assumption. 

Hagop Toroyan, a graduate of Haigazian Univeristy of Beirut, is knowledgeable in the religious festivities of the Armenian Apostolic Church. He noted on his page that that the “The greatest feast exalting the Holy Mother of God is the Feast of the Assumption. It is also one of the five daghavars of the Armenian (Apostolic) Church. The Armenian Church observes the feast for nine days. The sharagans dedicated to the Asdvadzazin (Mother of God) are among the most poetic and beautiful of our hymnal. On Assumption Day, following the celebration of the Divine Liturgy, the blessing of the grapes takes place.” The feast takes place on the Sunday closest to August 15.

Why are grapes blessed?

I believe the reason the grapes became symbolic of  the feast because grapevines, unlike most other fruit bearing trees, appear not to flower. However, grapevines do flower too but the cluster of the flowers are not visible to the naked eye. Nature might have conceived it that way because grapevines self-pollinate and thus grapes appear to come  on the vines, on their own, without fertilization, and thus best symbolized the immaculate conception of Mary, the Holy Mother of God. The grapes in Kessab mostly ripened by mid-August. Our paternal grandmother Sarah forbade us picking grapes until the fruits were blessed during the feast.

The celebration of the Feast of Assumption in Kessab  took place in the Nerki Guygh village or Eskouran. The village was thought to have been the first settlement at the foot of Mount Gassios that would in time grew to become Kessab. Kessabtsi of all persuasions and religious denominations celebrated the feast together in the open air, under a large oak tree, next to the village spring. Following the ceremonial slaughter of lamb, their meat, along with cracked wheat is cooked in large cauldron for the preparation of the day’s meal, the traditional Armenian harissa. Religious services are performed while harissa is being cooked, which required constant beating the mix with large wooden ladles. The festivities start after the blessing of the grapes.

The main attraction of the festivity is the traditional Kessab circle dance. In my days, it was Hammoud who would enliven the day. Hammoud was an Alevi. After the repatriation of many Kessabtsi, there came about a shortage of labor and a few Alevi families were invited as sharecroppers and were settled in the vacant houses. Hammoud was the patriarch of one such Alevi family. The children of these Alevi families attended the local school and spoke fluent Armenian and were playmates. Many a time, I accompanied his son Mhanna grazing the animals. 

I still picture Hammoud playing his kavala, his twin barreled duduk, with his cheeks fully extended, head tilted on one side, at times leaning forward and at times standing erect, accompanied by the  davul player, the drummer. Every now and then they would stop shout something that sounded “subash”. Bash means leader. At each shouting someone would have handed them money would take the lead of the dancers waving a white handkerchief knotted at one end as he led the dancers for a few rounds. The circle dance thus would go and on and on, with dancers leaving and others joining as new dancers would take the lead. At time the dancers would chant a tune. I do not remember the words but with started with “Hammoudi, Hammoudi…”, which sounded the dancers pleading the two musicians to go on playing. Playing the zurna and beating the davul must surely have been a taxing. Of course, there were the kids at the tail end trying to keep pace with the adults while mimicking their steps. As I look back I realize that there was no commercialization or mechanizing of any sort. It was just savoring the harissa, doing the circle dance and enjoying being together in a festive mood.

On March 21, 2014, the Kessabtsis were forced to abandon their homes and flee as extremists attacked the villages from Turkey. After eight-eight days of exile, on June 15-16, they began returning to their sacked villages to find their houses, businesses, churches plundered and their orchards in ruin. In spite of the harsh realities, they tenaciously observed the feast in August far from the ruins of Balloum, and in the shadow of their beloved Mount Gassios.

Courtesy Hagop Tcholakian

But What Should the State in Yerevan be?

Vahe H. Apelian

 

Courtesy "Hairenik" Weekly (August 13, 2021)

I read two reports today about the current state in Armenia. I should rather say in Yerevan because the reports described the state of the populace in Yerevan. In both instances the writers are from Diaspora and in both instances they noted their shock. Having expected to find Yerevan in a much more somber and subdued mood in the aftermath of the 44-days Artsakh war;  instead of the doom and gloom mood in Yerevan, they found the cafés of Yerevan bustling with a cheerful and chattering crowd.

Vehanoush Tekian  reported in “Hairenik” Weekly (August 13, 2021) an article titled “Where are we heading – Ո՞ւ Կերթան”. In it she noted that her friend poet Haroutione Maral Berberian, a resident of Montreal, had noted the following on his Facebook page on August 11, 2011 . I quote in translation:

"I have been in Yerevan for more than ten days. The picture is shocking. It is true that life will continue but passing through the streets of the city and its surroundings and watching the cheerful and chattering crowd of cafes around, it seems that the people of the city have lost their memory (I read such a story in  Gabriel Garcia Marquez "One Hundred Years of Solitude"). "It seems that we have not had or do not have more than five thousand victims, thousands of wounded and disabled, the missing and captives. Or the danger of additional land and human losses does not hang over our heads like the sword of Damocles."

Vehanoush Tekian, dwelling on the report, elaborated on her indignation alleging that the Armenians overwhelmingly show utter callousness to the sad post war reality.

Edmond Azadian, in the current issue of The Armenian Mirror Spectator (August 13, 2021), noted similarly. He reported  the following: 

“I spent the entire month of June in Armenia. 

Before arriving there, I anticipated seeing gloom and doom all around, with some of the 5,000 losses not even buried yet, the other 10,0000 injured pinning their hopes on prostheses, and everyone listening to the news about daily incursions of Azerbaijani forces across Armenia’s borders.

However, the contrast was so bewildering that I could not come up with a rational explanation.”

Courtesy Raffi Doudaklian

But what was the mood in Yerevan during the war?

 On September 28, 2020, a week after the start of war, Raffi Doudaklian posed from Yerevan on his Facebook page about the condition prevailing in the capital city. He tilted his posting “ It's War and the Nation an Army”. I quote from my translation of his posting in my blog.

“ It is war and the nation as a whole has turned into an army.

Young people on the streets of Yerevan solicit help towards the families in Artsakh affected by the war. Some bring bed covers, others food, many bring medicines  and then others flour or money. 

Young and old have gathered in front of the military recruiting offices and stand in line to volunteer and wait patiently until they are called in.

Individuals, business owners, companies donate as much as they can or want, to All Armenia Fund or  Military Insurance Fund .

Companies are very lenient and understandable towards their young employees who have volunteered to be dispatched to the front line.

It is a state of war in Armenia with the full sense of the word. Everyone, young and old, feel to the core of their being that it is a state of war that prevails in Armenia. It is war and the Armenian citizens have no other concern for now. It is war when they opened their eyes early in the morning and it may even continue in their sleep. Simply said,  the war has become part of the citizens’ being these days.” 

Armenia signed the tri-party dictates on November 9/10, 2010 to end  the hostilities and brute attacks by the TurkaBaijan forces. The dictates were brokered by the President of Russian Federation Vladimir Putin and thus carried his signature, along with the signatures of Nikol Pachinyan, as the PM and Commander of Armenian forces, and Ilham Heydar Oğlu Aliyev, the President of Azerbaijan. How did the citizens of Armenia react to the news?

I quote the translation of the notification Krikor Kradjian sent in an email to friends from Yerevan, on November 28, 2020. About two weeks after the cessation of the war.

“Of the thousands of Armenian churches around the world - Armenia, Western Armenia, Istanbul, the Middle East, Europe, the American continent ... the most sacramental, sad, and depressive these days is St. Gregory the Illuminator Cathedral in Yerevan.

Under the soft music of "Lord Have Mercy", people pray with fear, sometimes sitting for hours or kneeling, with tears in their eyes. Some with their eyes wide open continue  gazing the alter all the while praying , others, after a good cry, calm down and leave the church in back steps.

Now tell me, how can you not be moved?

There are no words to explain our situation.

The wound is so deep that I think only time can heal  ...

Courtesy Krikor Kradjian

What should the proper response of the Armenians be, I wonder, some 11 months after formal cessation of the war? Throughout those eleven months the citizens of Armenia lived through the catastrophic war, bore the brunt of the war, buried their martyrs. They also experienced the post war polarizing social unrest, elected their post war new government in a snap election.  Throughout those eleven months, they held their emotions in control, did not resort to violence, even when their leaders or political activists acted in ways that dishonored the nation. I think that Diaspora Armenians have an  inherent bias. In the comfort and security of their homes in the Diaspora, especially in the West, they conjure images of Armenia and carve images of the state of the citizens of Armenia should be, while they continue to attend to their daily routine, as they did throughout those past eleven months.

I have no answer as to what the proper response of the citizens of Armenia should be nowadays, eleven months later. I believe Edmond Azadian made the case when he wrote “Either people have become so fatalistic that nothing that happens scares them anymore, or they are so resilient that they are facing adversities with courage and hope. A third possibility is that they know something that we outsiders don’t, but it may also be any combination of the above.”

Yes, I believe the citizens of Armenia know more than we do, what they are doing and have done. Is that not natural? After all they live in Armenia and make their livelihood there.

But I am not so sure if we in the Diaspora know what we are doing. After all, the Armenian state in the Diaspora is a lot paler if not existentially challenged. Let us attend to our issues here to contribute for the continual viability of the Diaspora to continue on bringing our share for the betterment of Armenia and stop speculating on the state of the citizens of Armenia and stop being judgmental.

 

Keurkune's Historic Church: The Belltower & The Bell - 2

Vahe H. Apelian

Picture #1: Keurkune Church's Bell Tower and the Bell

The picture above (#1) depicts the bell tower and the bell of the  Armenian Evangelical Church of Keurkune. The picture makes plainly evident that the upper section is a later addition. The bell tower was extended thanks to Stepan J. Apelian when the church was going through renovation and a new brick red colored covering was added over its roof. This blog is about the bell in that bell tower. By any stretch of imagination, the bell of Keurkune’s  church is historic in its own right.

Picture #2: Arguably the Oldest Picture of Keurkune Church Complex.

Keurkune’s church was built in 1898/99. Judging from the general appearance of the sanctuary, the pastoral dwelling, and the dress of the men in its courtyard, the picture above (#2), is arguably one of the earliest pictures of the church that has reached us, if not the oldest. But the picture does not tell whether the church had a bell tower, let alone a bell.

Picture #3: Keurkune Church Complex circa late 1940's.

The picture of the church posted above (# 3) is from Rev. G. S. Tilkian’s book titled “The 95^th Anniversary of The Armenian Evangelical Church of Kessab, 1853-1948 - Վեր. Կ. Ս. Թիլքեան «Իննուսինգ Ամեակ Քեսապի Հայ Աւետարանական Եկեղեցւոյ, 1853-1948”. The picture makes it plainly evident that the church by 1948, not only had a bell tower, but it also had a bell.

However, as an impressionable child, I still remember the vivid discussion among the villagers visiting our grandparents’ house to sort through some bureaucratic hurdles to bring a bell and have it installed in the tower. It was the late Kevork George Apelian who let me know that the bell was cast in Beit Chabab (Shabab) in Lebanon and brought to Keurkune and installed in the bell tower.

A search on the internet gave credence to George’s claim because Wikipedia notes the following about Beirt Chabab: “Beit Chabab (Syriac: Bet Shebāba, Arabic: بيت شباب‎) pronounced "Beit Chabéb" is a mountain village 24 km north of Beirut in Lebanon. It is the site of Lebanon's only bell foundry. The bells of Beit Chabab are sold to Christian communities in Lebanon and abroad to many countries.” The reason for having a new church bell installed in the Keurkune church’s bell tower is now lost in obscurity. But in all probability, during those deliberations, the church already had a bell tower and, also a bell in its tower, unless it was damaged and was not functional anymore and hence the need for a new church bell had arose.

Furthermore, George, let me know that the Keurkunetsi’s, under the directorship of Rev. Ardashes Kerbabian, staged a play in the sanctuary and allocated the funds they raised towards the casting and installing the bell. Fortunately, thanks to Raffi Kerbabian,  who posted family pictures his mother has kept, a picture has reached us that denotes on its back the date the play was staged, September 9, 1951 (Sunday),  the name of the play was “Genevieve”, and those who took part in the staging the play either as actors or in supporting roles. The group had their pictures taken on that  once landmark rock next to Keurkune’s spring that sustained the village. 

It is fair that I post that group picture (#4) and the names of the eleven among the fourteen who had made up that theatrical group. They are: #1 Angel Bedirian Megerditchian, #2 Araxie Apelian, #3 Anoush Kerbabian, #4 Dzaghgan Afarian Kerbabian, #5 Rev. Ardashes Kerbabian, #6 ??, #7 Hratch Apelian, #8 Ashod Apelian, #9 Sirvart Konyalian Mouradian, #10 Hasmig Apelian, #11 ??, #12 ??, #13 Aram Kakousian #14 Kevork George Apelian.

Picture #4: Rev. Ardashes Kerbabian and the "Genevieve" Play Stage Group

From its installment to the that fateful March 21, 2014 Friday, the Muslim holy day, when a marauding crowd  of terrorists attacked the peaceful village, the bell of Keurkune was rung every Sunday morning alerting the villagers of the upcoming service. Keurkune and its sister village Ekiz Olough shared the same pastor and alternated the time Sunday Service was held.

From March 21, 2014, and for the next following eighty-eight days or so, greater Kessab remained under the occupation and mercy of the terrorists who had infiltrated the village from Turkey. On June 14/15 the Kessabtsis started returning mostly from Latakakia or elsewhere where they had taken refuge to find out greater Kessab in a state of utter despair. For all practical purposes a century of post Armenian genocide hard work was wiped out and obliterated. Among them was the Keurkune church complex as well, that was vandalized, sacked, torched. In the mayhem was also the original ecclesiastical proclamation that the late Catholicos of All Armenians, Karekin I  Sarkissian had issued bestowing upon my mother the St. Mesrob Mashots decree. The villagers had the proclamation framed and hung in the first-floor room where Sunday school classes were held and where she had taught once. The church bell was also missing.

On June 19, 2014, Stepan J. Apelian  reported that Keurkune's historic church bell has been found and it bears the date the bell was cast, in 1952. Sevan Manjikian Apelian was the person who had found the bell. She reported the following: “I found it in Chakhaljekh in the backyard of Trtrians villa, and took it to Korkune, Stepan J Apelian was there and saw it. But I didn't trust to keep it there, so I took it to our military camp in Ras Al Basit. After a while my commander personally returned it to the mayor of Kesssb (Vazken).” Apparetnly the terrorists could not carry the heavy bell with them. They had managed to carry it as far as the Chakhaljekh and left it there. Serendipity would have it that the mason who erected the double stone layered Keurkune church, stone after stone, was Hovsep Trtrian. To this day, it is said that only Trtrian (Terterian) family members reside year around in Chakhaljekh.

Not long after they returned, the ever resilient Kessabtsis started renovating and refurbishing their vandalized and torched houses, businesses, and churches. The late Rev. Sevg Trashian worked tirelessly for renovating and refurbishing Keurkune’s vandalized and torched church. The bell was reinstalled in its tower. 

Those whom the bell has beckoned for service still remember its deep tenor ring that resonated deep into their soul. The bell is now in use.

Picture #5: After Renovation
Keurkune Church's Bell Tower and the Bell
Courtesy Sevan Apelian