Anelga, Lara and Lori could be the heroines of a series recounting the adventures of a family who decides to serve the most disadvantaged. For a beautiful month of May, they immersed themselves in the heart of wounded humanity, in Armenia. A report on these "ladies of heart" who bring good to some forty families.
On September 27, 2020, Azerbaijan, Armenia's neighboring country, populated by 10 million Muslims, decided to invade the Nagorno-Karabakh region. This ancestral Armenian land, plundered by Stalin in 1921, was given to Azerbaijan. With the fall of the former USSR, it became the self-proclaimed Republic of Artsakh in 1994, following a first war that left more than 30,000 dead on both sides. "When I learned of this new aggression, I was infinitely sad," recalls Anelga, Lori and Lara's mother. For the first few days, here in Belgium, we were all devastated. The diaspora then sprang into action." The capital of Artsakh, Stepanakert, was bombed several times. Turkish and Israeli drones came into play. They dominated the sky and destroyed enemy lines, which they had cleverly mapped out weeks earlier. They sowed panic in the camp of the young (too young) soldiers. The surprise was total and technology quickly made the difference. It was a blitzkrieg, or rather a flash war, in reference to free online war games. The pilots were no longer in their planes. They were comfortably seated at their desks, kilometers from their targets. And, as if playing war games, with their joysticks and state-of-the-art screens, they dropped their missiles and hit their targets with terrifying efficiency. It was no longer a game, no longer virtual. The reality was cruel: high-tech serving barbarity, wounding and killing. It would take only 44 days for Azerbaijan to win this battle. On November 9, during the night, Nikol Pashinyan, the Prime Minister of Armenia, signed the definitive ceasefire. He had just signed his defeat and the loss of 70% of the territory of Artsakh and the buffer zone between Armenia and Artsakh. The famous cultural city of Shushi was surrendered. Without the intervention of the Russians and Vladimir Putin, who was playing a triple game by advancing his pawns in the region at the same time, Armenia would have lost everything. Artsakh would no longer exist. Worse, Aliyev, the dictator-heir, would have tried to continue his war in the very heart of Armenia. Far from the strident noise of the cluster bombs raining down on Stepanakert, in Europe, behind the scenes of the Belgian diaspora, the Arslanian family stood up. They embarked on a mission and decided to create their own foundation, the Arslanian Foundation.
A call to artists!
It is Lara, the youngest daughter, who first takes action in emergency humanitarian aid. A lover of arts and culture, she knows the world of artists well. With two of her friends, Sarine Semerjian and Garabed Bardakjian, she launched an art auction. The operation was a success. She collected a hundred thousand euros in a few days, which was redistributed directly to associations in Armenia. This operation was important to meet the needs of the first refugees, who were thrown onto the roads from October. The entire Arslanian family supported Lara. Lori, her elder sister, entrusted her with two rings. She is a young jewelry designer. In her own way, she follows in the footsteps of previous generations of her family, experts in this sector of activity. Their mother, Anelga, is a doctor. She is experienced in care and in dealing with the wounded, the sick, and people with disabilities. She understands the needs of these displaced families. She remembers her first commitment: it was in 1988. "The Spitak earthquake surprised everyone. In a way, it awakened the diaspora, which had been muzzled by the ex-USSR." The Spitak earthquake was a trigger. After the fall of the USSR, Armenia declared its independence and the diaspora began to return to the country. In a country impoverished by 70 years of socialism, its presence was vital. It invested in infrastructure, water and electricity. Then, it built schools, churches, hospitals. "Since 1988," says Anelga, "we have come to Armenia about twenty times." Lori remembers her first stay in Armenia. "It was in 1992, I was 8 years old. It was hard because we only had 7 minutes of hot water a day. Armenia was sad, grayish. All the women were dressed the same way." Today, Armenia has changed and modernized in part. But its old demons, after that of the 1915-1923 genocide, have reawakened.
Around forty families supported tooth and nail
In 1988, the Spitak earthquake killed and injured several thousand people, and left hundreds of thousands homeless. Even today, the scars of this catastrophe are visible on the faces of the survivors. Their wrinkles have deepened and thickened, aged by this terrible ordeal. The 2020 war reopens barely closed fissures. And the diaspora is responding, because urgency dictates. History and its share of tragedies are repeating themselves. Thousands of dead and wounded (nearly 5,000 dead on the Armenian side), tens of thousands of refugees must leave their homes without looking back. This is the case of Ruben Haroutiounian and his family of 5 children. Since the ceasefire of November 10, they have been living in a rustic two-room apartment in Goris, a small town 10 minutes by car from the border with Azerbaijan. They were forced to abandon their large house in Shushi. Anelga and Lori, who will spend the entire month of May in Armenia, were supposed to go to Goris and Stepanakert, passing near Shushi. On May 13, the incursion of 500 Azerbaijani soldiers, who made a breakthrough of 3 to 5 km inside the country, not far from Goris, deterred them. Which does not prevent the foundation from acting. "The needs are very great," explains Anelga. With our local relays, we are already sponsoring some forty families. And we are not alone in helping them. Financially, we are helped by friends and part of the Belgian diaspora. With Lori, we go from family to family. We visit them, we bring them comfort, clothes, and a little money. We assess their needs. Our objective is to help them in the long term." In Yerevan, they have already visited about ten families. They are all unique, with their own history, their own tragedy. Most have lost their husbands in the war. The women have become widows and must alone provide for their families.
72 hours with the "ladies of heart"
Whether in Yerevan, Gyumri, or Vanadzor, in the north, Anelga and Lori are incredible. They prepare for family visits with a professionalism that is both surprising and reassuring. In a popular district of Yerevan, they wait at the foot of a ten-story apartment building. On the wall, a giant portrait represents Camo, who died on the front last October. His son, Haroutiun, greets them and invites them to follow him. Tall and slender, his gaze is sad. On the 6th floor, a long corridor distributing the apartments remains in semi-darkness. Foul odors rise from the floor. His mother waits at the door of their apartment. "We own this small apartment," explains Manoush, who has become a widow. With her 5 children, how can she live in a two-room apartment? "On September 28, they came for my husband, who was a reservist," she recounts. Normally, he could have refused to go, as he had more than three children. But he couldn't resist. He died a few weeks later, in October." In the small dilapidated apartment, the living room furniture has been transformed into a small memorial. Several photos of the father are displayed. The youngest, David, who is not yet two years old, climbs a living room chair and comes to kiss his portrait. The father is no longer there to provide for his family. How to live, already, in such a two-room apartment? The bathroom is occupied by the washing machine. It is impossible to take a shower there. A small passage gives access to the toilet. Manoush seems desperate. "At first, we received 700,000 drams from the state (the equivalent of €1,100)," she explains. "Then, nothing more." Anelga and Lori listen very carefully. They question her and try to establish a diagnosis of her needs.
Offer a bathroom
Lori gives a small gift to the youngest of the children. The two women leave. "The second family lives 20 minutes from here, in a more residential area," Anelga says aloud, addressing Hapet, her driver. A beautiful and tiny young woman waits at a street corner. Arminé is a widow and lives with her three sons and daughter. In her house, inherited from her parents, the three sons are there, her daughter Mariam is at college. Her husband also died in the war. "I begged him to stay, but he didn't want to." Her three sons are handsome. Despite his scoliosis, the eldest would like to continue sports. The youngest, when we arrived, was engrossed in his game on his smartphone. In this house with a garden, time seems to have stopped. There is a great emptiness. The question of widowed mothers is the same for all: how to provide for the children in such circumstances? Impossible, without the help of the diaspora. The state seems absent, powerless in the medium term.
The last visit is terrible. It concerns a family from Stepanakert whose husband was severely wounded several times at the beginning of the war. "My husband remains bedridden. He suffers constantly," says his wife, Anzhelika. In the large living room, her daughter, her younger brother, and her newborn, who sleeps peacefully. There is also her mother-in-law. In total, Anzhelika receives from the Artsakh government enough to pay half of her rent. This is insufficient to support her family of 8 people, with her mother-in-law who is also sick. She does not work. "How can I do? I no longer know what to do." A tear rolls down her eyes, Anelga takes her in her arms. Before leaving, Lori gives her small gifts and a little money.
A week later, Anelga and Lori went to the surroundings of Gyumri and Vanadzor, in the north of the country. They visited new families. "In the villages, it's the Fourth World," says Anelga. There, they help families living in autarky, children with disabilities, a young couple whose husband had a serious accident. Two brothers who can no longer move around and who live thanks to their sister every day. It's extreme poverty. In addition, farms in Armenia are very poor. Some have no bathroom. Misery with its darkness is omnipresent. In this environment where nature remains generous, these "ladies of heart" bring them a delicate light, a rainbow, a little happiness.
5 minutes north of Vanadzor, their vehicle struggles along a stony mountain road. We are in Dsegh, a small village lost at nearly 2,000 meters above sea level. The car stops to pick up a sparkling young teenager. She takes us to her home, a small farm that looks more like a shed. There, the young girl lives in semi-autarky with her mother, her sick father, and her brother. At night, they sleep above the chicken coop. Anelga and Lori offer them their last box of clothes. The "ladies of heart" leave. They will return in September. It is certain, the missions of the Arslanian Foundation have only just begun.
Text and photos by Antoine BORDIER, Consultant and Independent Journalist
Reference: https://www.entreprendre.fr/trois-dames-de-coeur-au-chevet-de-larmenie-blessee/
