Author: Vanyan Gary

Russian aid truck in Stepanakert (Photo: Former State Minister and Human Rights Ombudsman of the Republic of Artsakh Artak Beglaryan, Twitter)

YEREVAN – The Berdzor (Lachin) Corridor has not been opened to humanitarian aid as of September 13, despite an agreement to open the route 12 hours after the entry of Russian aid to Artsakh through Aghdam.

More than two years after a trade made by the Armenian and Azerbaijani governments for the return of 15 Armenian prisoners of war in exchange for the maps of the mined areas of Akna (Aghdam), the use of the Aghdam road has become a topic of discussion following Azerbaijan’s complete blockade of the Berdzor Corridor to humanitarian aid in mid-June this year.

On September 9, Artsakh authorities announced that Russian aid would be delivered through the Aghdam road, and an agreement had been reached to restore movement for humanitarian aid through the Berdzor Corridor.

Russian co-chair of the OSCE Minsk Group Igor Khovayev met with Azerbaijan’s President Ilham Aliyev in Baku and presented Moscow’s clear position, according to which no Azeri goods will enter the Armenian-inhabited part of Artsakh. 

An agreement was reached stating that very limited products, not of Azerbaijani origin, will be sent through the Aghdam road. According to the agreement, after the Russian aid passes, the Aghdam road will be closed again, and no other vehicles will pass. According to another arrangement, the Berdzor Corridor will be opened 12 hours after the Russian aid passes through Aghdam, and the Armenian trucks will be able to go to Stepanakert.

Since July 26, an Armenian government convoy containing 360 tons of humanitarian aid has been blocked in Kornidzor by the Azerbaijani government. The convoy of nineteen trucks contains flour, pasta, sugar, vegetable oil, powder milk, salt, baby food and medicine. 

According to the Artsakh Information Center, “On September 12, the humanitarian cargo entered the Artsakh Republic through the city of Askeran, with the permission of the authorities of the republic, through the Russian Red Cross and the vehicles of that organization. The aid contains vital Russian-made goods.”

Russian aid includes blankets, bed sheets for hospitals, soap, toothpaste, shampoo, baby cereal, vitamins, baby cream, diapers, wet wipes and 11.4 tons of food including flour, sugar, rice, green peas, lentils, corn, pasta, semolina and buckwheat. 

The mayor of Askeran, Hayk Shamiryan, mentioned that concerned citizens of Artsakh that were gathered near the Tank Memorial initially protested the entry, but then came to an agreement, after which the Russian Red Cross truck, accompanied by the police, reached the Artsakh capital of Stepanakert.

While the Azerbaijani side had agreed to create conditions for the transportation of humanitarian aid through the Berdzor Corridor 12 hours after the entry of Russian aid through the Aghdam-Stepanakert road, there are no changes thus far. 

A statement issued by the Foreign Ministry of Artsakh on June 16 affirms, “The complete closure of the Lachin Corridor, used in a limited mode and exclusively for humanitarian purposes because of the ongoing illegal blockade of Artsakh for more than six months, is another practical demonstration of Azerbaijan’s gross violation of its international obligations, disregard for the fundamental norms of international law, including the legally binding decision of the International Court of Justice. In fact, the illegally established checkpoint in the Lachin Corridor is being used by Azerbaijan purely as a tool to continue its policy of ethnic cleansing against the people of Artsakh.”

After a provocation near Khakari Bridge on June 15, Azerbaijan completely blocked all humanitarian passenger and cargo transportations via the Berdzor Corridor in both directions. As a result of Azerbaijan’s actions, the planned medical evacuation of patients from Artsakh to Armenia by the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) did not take place, and the planned transportation of passengers in urgent humanitarian need through the mediation of the Russian peacekeeping contingent on the Goris-Stepanakert route was canceled. The movement of trucks of Russian peacekeepers en route to Goris to deliver humanitarian goods to Artsakh was also stopped.

The first proposal of the use of the Aghdam road was made on July 14 by Azerbaijan’s Minister of Foreign Affairs Jeyhun Bayramov while meeting with the head of the ICRC representative office in Azerbaijan Dragana Kozic. “As for meeting the needs of Armenian residents, the Azerbaijani side does not rule out the possibility of providing assistance on the Aghdam-Stepanakert road,” stated Bayramov.

According to political analyst Edgar Elbakyan, “It is not the first time that Azerbaijan first terrorizes the Artsakh Armenians, then allegedly extends a ‘helping hand’ as a ‘show of goodwill.’ This is called forced integration. By depriving the Artsakh Armenians of necessary resources, Azerbaijan shows that the faucet is in its hands – Azerbaijan opens and closes the faucet when it pleases, leaving the people of Artsakh to submit to the whims of Azerbaijan.” 

Following talks of opening the Aghdam-Stepanakert road and a statement made by European Council President Charles Michel noting Azerbaijan’s willingness to provide humanitarian supplies via Aghdam, a group of Artsakh citizens blocked the road from Askeran to Aghdam by placing concrete barriers on July 18. Signs held by protesters read, “Aghdam is the road of death” and “Charles Michel, the Aghdam road is not a humanitarian corridor.”

Residents of Artsakh block the Aghdam-Askeran road on July 18 (Arshak Abrahamyan, Facebook)

In response to the Armenians of Artsakh blocking the road from Askeran to Aghdam, President Aliyev questioned the protestors’ actions, stating, “Why should food be delivered from another country? After all, Karabakh is Azerbaijan, and everyone knows that. Therefore, why should the goods be delivered from another country?”

Encouraged by Aliyev’s statement, his Foreign Policy Advisor Hikmet Hajiyev stated that it is not necessary to politicize the issue and insist on the use of the Berdzor Corridor only, keeping the Aghdam road closed. “There is no alternative to the Aghdam-Stepanakert road and the reintegration of Karabakh Armenians. The game is over,” Hajiyev said. 

Baku utilized Michel’s remarks to advance its new narrative and ease the pressure from international actors regarding the unblocking of the Berdzor Corridor. This new reality became evident during the United Nations Security Council emergency meeting on the situation in Artsakh, where major actors emphasized the importance of opening both the Berdzor Corridor and alternative roads. This phrasing provided Baku with an opportunity to evade responsibility while extending its blockade of Artsakh.

Former Artsakh President Arayik Harutyunyan announced that during the session of the Council of Ministers on August 29, discussions were held to open the Aghdam road. Discussions about opening the road started in July of this year. Azerbaijan presented this option as a solution to the “conflict situation.” Considering that there were no other proposals, particularly from Yerevan, the agenda proposed by Baku was put into circulation again.

In the midst of these talks regarding the opening of the Aghdam road, two trucks loaded with 40 tons of flour from Baku arrived in Aghdam on the evening of August 29. Lusine Avanesyan, the former president’s spokesperson, commented that Baku’s move to send humanitarian aid through Aghdam was not agreed upon with Artsakh authorities. 

Askeran Mayor Shamiryan stated that residents of the Askeran region of Artsakh held a demonstration on the Armenian side of the road leading to Aghdam. The protestors once again reaffirmed that they would not allow the cargo sent by the Azerbaijani side through Aghdam.

Speaker of the National Assembly of the Republic of Artsakh Davit Ishkhanyan stated, “This move by Azerbaijan is understandable, because they are pursuing political goals, trying to show the world that they have an internal problem, and the humanitarian crisis in Artsakh does not concern the outside world. Azerbaijan continues to resort to provocative steps and is trying to show the world that from their side all possible steps are being taken to ensure the needs of the residents of Artsakh.”

I didn’t realize it was a date – I never do. This skin, wrapped in so many layers, has forgotten where it begins. 

He was sweet – he always is. The conversation simmered as the cocktails flowed. A good date, by most people’s standards. 

But I returned home, heavy – as I always do – and sank my face beneath cold water. 

I turned off the faucet and opened my Instagram. Two young men – boys – had jumped off a bridge. Holding hands, they fell. All 301 feet. Back into history. Two fleshed-lovers, now at one with the river. 

My knees buckled and collapsed onto the cold tile. I streamed. This is the only time the layers come off. Alone, in grief, holding the pain of the ones who could bear it no longer. 

Love is cream, kati ser (milk’s love) – in the mouth, in the guts, in the bloodstream. Booze is a preservative. Kills the mold.

That was the last date I ever went on with a man.

In the Zulu language of South Africa, strangers greet each other, not with hello or a polite nod, but sawubona, meaning, “I see you.”

What does it mean to be seen in this skin?

My cousin’s child is 16, Arsen’s age. She asks if I know any gay people. Yes, I tell her.

She pauses. “Are you friends with any of them?” I hear my uncle’s footsteps, his heavy gait, picking up pace. “Yes,” I say, flinging open the door.

Earlier that day, I sat by the edge of the pool with the cousin who raised me in the moments when my mother, an ocean away, could not. 

“It feels like the gays have disappeared lately,” she says. 

What do you mean? 

“With Nikol’s revolution, they were everywhere. But now, they’re gone.”

My silence invites more commentary.

“I understand that those people are born that way – it’s a sickness – but they shouldn’t be preaching anything to our children. They should be getting help.”

This cousin, my step-mama, often separated by half a world, now just inches from my feet, never felt farther away. 

Her husband is a journalist in Armenia. He often posts lengthy tirades about the LGBTQ+ community. Only, he’s not talking to his followers. His words are directed at us. A love letter, in reverse. 

“If you are gay, trans, no gender, every gender – I don’t care. If any of you come near my children, I will grab my gun and shoot you dead. I will kill you and I will sit in jail. This country is not yours to take.”

I meet my cousin in the eyes. “I see you,” I wanted to say. I only wished that she could see me, too.

“And what do you feel now ”

Two nights ago, a trans woman – my sister’s age – was stabbed inside her apartment then burned to a crisp. The authorities took their time starting an investigation. I read the comments. The love they turned inside out – and set ablaze.

Three years ago, to the date, I put on a lullaby from my ancestral land. One that many mothers sang to their babies on the marches, in the caves, where love reeked like spoilt milk. 

I laid down on the ground and wrapped a noose around my neck. It was not the first time.

During the genocide, a mother abandoned her wailing child – to save the rest. Drifting, she sang…

Rouri rouri rouri rouri rouri rouri rouri, lao.

My young one, may you grow old kindly.
May wild sheep feed you with their milk, to keep you alive.
May God and nature protect you in your loneliest hour.

As I faded away, I heard my dad’s screams, calling me back. Those final seconds never came. I was pulled back to shore by love’s cry. 

A cry that never reached Tigran, Arsen, Adriana. Their love, abandoned by the skin. In Armenian, our mornings begin with bari luys, “good light.”

We are used to queer bodies outlasting the light. May you come and go in shadow, they tell us.

In Armenia, the worst thing – the absolute worst thing – that anyone can be is queer.

In Turkey, the worst thing – the absolute worst thing – that anyone can be is an Armenian. 

Not a Kurd, not an atheist, not a communist, not even queer. 

Armenian. Listen to the tremors of my skin.

Last winter, I visited a dear Turkish friend. Someone who’s become something more, but a nameless more. A mooring on foreign lands.

A NYE gathering – a celebration of Turkish, Kurdish, Cypriot queers. The most marginalized bodies in Turkey, they tell us.

When my nameless-more was in the bathroom, I approached these bodies. They seemed safer than the Turkish bodies I met in the kabob shops in London, the taxi attendant in Istanbul, the ‘proud’ bodies outside Talaat Pasha’s house museum. 

The body, in nothing but a thong, who moments earlier, flexed glitter and joy, smiled back at me. “Are you Turkish?” he asked. “No, Armenian.” 

I watched the blank glare creep over his once-expressive face. I politely found an exit – as always.

Almost immediately, a lesbian couple appeared and asked where I’m from. “Sounds like an American accent.” 

“Yes, but I’m actually Armenian.” 

“I lived in NYC for awhile, worked in investment banking there. It was nice.” Strike two. 

Again, I watched the word disappear – not beneath a flag or angry chant – but behind leather belts and sticky glasses. Even in this room, our bodies were not the same. Mine might as well have been a ghost. One of the millions abandoned in their home country – out of sight, out of mind. 

Rainbows in the sky but bumpy waves on this ship – as always.

I didn’t hear much of the rest. My nameless-more reappeared and took the reins.

That night, I told her that I was grateful to be in her safe space. I did not tell her that it was not mine.

To be a queer Armenian means to be reviled by both Armenians and Turks. Queer Turks do not even see us. Sawubona. South Africa is a long way from here.

Nowhere to hide, nowhere to settle, nowhere to be free. The only way to find the light is to become it. To sway between the notes – of ghosts and angels. To become our own lullaby.

Rouri is a survival song. The mother in the story could not destine her child to memory. So, she returned and found her babe, still swaddled, still breathing. 

The vibrations had kept him alive.