Harut And Ophelia: A Father’s Birthday Wish

HARUT AND OPHELIA: A FATHER’S BIRTHDAY WISH

Monday, October 22nd, 2012

BY MARIA TITIZIAN

For his daughter’s birthday, my friend Harut wished for her the
following, which he wrote on his Facebook page: “Ophelia dear, my
daughter, I am grateful to God that you exist. For you, my miracle,
I wish happiness. I am sure that you will not stay there; I know that
you are coming back because this is your country. Bad or good, it is
yours. If it is bad, then I am to blame; you have to fix, correct,
and clean all those problems, with which our country is surrounded. I
know what I’m saying is difficult but I also know that you and your
generation will be able to do it. They say miracles don’t exist.

That’s a lie, don’t believe it. Miracles do exist. You are living
proof of it. I love you and miss you…”

This was a simple yet moving wish from a father to a daughter who is
far away from him, on the other side of the Atlantic, studying in order
to return and apply her knowledge and experience to her homeland. That
is Harut’s wish and I’m sure Ophelia’s as well. However there are
many parents whose children are studying abroad, who silently wonder
whether their children will return. Many don’t.

The day Harut posted this message I had met with a European
delegation that was in Armenia ahead of the presidential elections on
a fact-finding mission, I took part in a protest, I walked from one
end of the city center to the other running errands and later on in
the evening went out to dinner with family visiting from abroad. A
pretty typical day. But after talking about the lack of democracy
and the abundance of corruption and injustice in the country with
the Europeans, after looking into the eyes of the disappointed
and disillusioned youth at the protest, after seeing the tired and
downtrodden expressions on people’s faces on my walk, I wanted to
know what the hell had happened to my country. The country I had
yearned for, the country I had seen in my dreams, the one I claimed
and the one I felt I had lost. A jarring statement by someone who
had repatriated to Armenia eight years ago kept playing in my head:
“By coming to Armenia, I lost my homeland.” It was a devastating
statement. It had paralyzed me. Could there be truth in those words?

Had I too lost my homeland by coming to Armenia?

After reading Harut’s post, I realized that I had not lost my
homeland. It is here, beneath my feet. It is the warm autumn breeze.

It is the tree-lined boulevards and quaint corners of the city. It
is the land that slumbers in the shadow of majestic Ararat. It is
the breathtaking countryside. It is the laborer, the farmer, the
teacher, the student and pensioner. I can see its reflection in the
eyes of my children who have grown up with her. It is the land that
accepted us and continues to reveal its many treasures and potential
opportunities. My homeland is not lost, no, it has been hijacked. And
I am determined to get it back.

Those who have hijacked our homeland are the ones who will have to
answer to all of those parents whose children have left, never to
return. Those who have hijacked our homeland will be held accountable
for the hayatapum of this country by future generations of Armenians.

And for all of us, the silent, brooding majority, we need to straighten
our backs and set into motion the steps that need to be taken to
ensure that 2.8 million people lead a dignified life; where more
won’t leave and where more of us want to come.

Harut’s wish for his daughter is merely that – the gift of belief
for a promise of return.

From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress