Reflections from Diyarbakir: Delivering the Message of ARF Youth
By Rupen Janbazian // December 28, 2013
(Special to the Armenian Weekly)
`Yes, I am Armenian. Fourth-generation Dikranagerdtsi…’
Things seemed to come full-circle when I heard these words come out of
his mouth, albeit translated from the language I was brought up to
hate.
Janbazian and Sarkis Degirmenjian delivering their speech.
Navaf came rushing to the stage as we were coming off, ready to greet
us with this piece of amazing news he had wanted to share for a long
time now. My friend and I had just finished addressing the first youth
conference of the Peace and Democracy of Turkey (BDP) in Diyarbakir
(Dikranagerd). The mostly Kurdish crowd of supporters, upwards of
30,000, had watched in astonishment as two representatives of the ARF
Youth and Student Organizations addressed the crowd first in Armenian
and later in Turkish. (Read the report on the conference here.)
Although I had briefly studied the Turkish language during my
university days, something within me, instinct perhaps, had never
allowed me to become fluent; and so, I had the honor of addressing the
crowd in Armenian. In a brief meeting with the conference organizers a
day earlier, we had described why we’d be sharing our message in our
native tongue. Our Kurdish counterparts said that the city of `Amed’
hadn’t heard Armenian being spoken from a stage in almost a century,
and agreed that it was time.
The participants in the BDP Youth Conference
One would assume that a stadium full of Kurds who don’t understand
Armenian would be bored, uninterested, and ultimately
indifferent – especially since we were speaking as representatives of a
people who once called these lands `home.’ Yet, we witnessed the exact
opposite that day. As I read out loud what we had written in the
Western Armenian dialect of my forefathers, the audience watched and
listened attentively. It almost seemed like they understood everything
I said. As if the words that had so eloquently been spoken in the
streets of that city nearly a hundred years ago still had meaning for
these people who were gathered there for a common, unifying purpose.
Growing up in Toronto, I was lucky to have attended Armenian school
from kindergarten through high school. After graduating, I made an
extra effort to immerse myself in everything Armenian, in an attempt
to not become a victim of what some call the jermag chart (`white
genocide’). I read as much as possible about our history, and I did my
best to keep up with the latest in Armenian news in Armenia and the
diaspora. But when I learned that I’d be traveling to historic Armenia
to meet with Kurdish youth, I realized I knew very little about
Armenian-Kurdish relations. All I could recall from my 15 years of
Armenian education was that a Kurdish representative had been elected
to the Armenian Parliament during the first republic.
When speaking about the Kurdish people, Armenian generally recall the
darkest pages of our common history – they remember the days of the
Armenian Genocide and brush off the Kurds as the `ones who really
killed our ancestors.’ It is true that local Kurdish tribes were armed
to attack the Armenians in many towns and villages across the Ottoman
Empire during the genocide.
What is interesting, however, was that nearly a century after the
genocide began, the descendants of those Kurds not only accepted our
delegation in Dikranagerd with open arms, but actually apologized,
time and time again, for the part some of their ancestors had in the
genocide – something Armenians across the world wish to hear from the
government of Turkey.
I couldn’t allow myself to be jaded by the negative narrative, so
before making the trek to Dikranagerd I began reading up on the
history of the Kurdish struggle in Turkey. What I quickly discovered
was a story of a common history between our two peoples. I also
learned about the good relations between Armenians and Kurds
immediately after the genocide. From collaborations between the
Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) and the Kurdish organization
Khoyboun during the Kurdish rebellions in Dersim and Ararat, to the
establishment of Kurdish radio broadcasts and newspapers in Soviet
Armenia, it was amazing how intertwined the modern histories of our
two people actually were.
But what was truly eye opening and humbling was the way we were
welcomed to the now mostly Kurdish-populated city that many of our
ancestors inhabited. From the moment we were greeted at the airport,
our hosts made it a point to make us feel at home. To make us feel
like we had never left.
Hospitality is a trait Armenians have been known to value for
millennia, but what we experienced in our six days in Dikranagerd was
something I had, quite unfortunately, never felt in Armenia nor in the
Armenian Disapora, not to that extent, anyway. These people, who I had
heard only negative things about from so many of my compatriots, were
not only taking us to all the sites of Armenian civilization and
culture in the city, but were giving us the factual, unadulterated
history behind these places.
They were ready to find common ground.
Falling in the narrative trap can go both ways. It’s always important
to remember the past, to be cautious, and not take everything
presented at face value. However, our time in Dikranagerd proved that
there is a group of people there (who happen to constitute an
overwhelming majority of the city) ready to build a common
understanding between Armenian and Kurds. Moreover, they accept the
validity of the Armenian Genocide and are brave enough to openly
criticize the Turkish government’s policy of denial – in Turkey.
The Middle East is at a very significant juncture today. There is
pressure for change, and the Kurdish people are central to these
potential changes; this is a fact that all must accept. It is our duty
as Armenians, regardless of where we may live, to have a vested
interest in, for lack of a better term, the Kurdish Cause. Yes, for
some it may seem too early or premature to develop a new
Armenian-Kurdish global alliance, but it would be wrong not to begin
the process of mutual understanding, of finding ways for our two
people to cooperate rationally. We must at least speak to each other,
face to face, based on mutual respect and consideration of the
interests of both peoples.
Navaf was only one of the dozens who approached us that day after our
talk, so eager to tell us about his Armenian roots and embrace us as
if we were family. These people were proud of their origins. And they
were proud to still be on the lands we’ve been taught to one day
reclaim.
We should never forget the dark pages of our shared history with these
people, but we should also not allow years of negative rhetoric to
prevent the possibility of the realization of our people’s rightful
cause. Let’s not let the `bad blood’ stand in the way of something
bigger.
Rupen Janbazian was born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. He is
a graduate of the University of Toronto, where he completed a double
major in history and Near and Middle Eastern civilizations. He has
served on the local and national executives of the Armenian Youth
Federation (AYF) Canada and Hamazkayin Toronto, and served as the
administrator of the Armenian National Committee (ANC) of Toronto.
Janbazian also taught Armenian history and creative writing at the
Armenian Relief Society (ARS) Armenian School of Toronto. He recently
relocated to Yerevan, where he works on a number of organizational and
personal projects.