Humankinds Deepest Sins

Everyone always blames someone for something one time or another but blaming a whole race of people wasn’t something that came up everyday. Nor did anyone think that you could wipe out a whole race, but it almost happened. It was something that scared me, an event that would scare the manliest of men, bravest of the brave. Even when it’s spoken people dare not try to remember but it did happen and those events that transpired will never erase itself from history. No one can erase that travesty. Human beings are just that, human beings, however no one can understand what it was like until you’ve witnessed mankinds deepest sins. When you are no longer treated as a human, not even an animal, let alone a speck of dirt. Treated like as if you were nothing, the worst sort of scum of the earth. Oh we were treated like we existed of course, but we were a game, a scapegoat of releasing all the emotions those Turks built up inside. They thought they were doing the world a favor, but nothing can be solved by innocent blood shed, so is the way of the human race.
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I remember it as if it were yesterday. My family, my husband, two sons, and one daughter had, had a great supper that night, May 14th. You see my husband had a position in the government so we hadn’t thought anything of the order given to the Armenians that had to be deported. Those were the ones who protested against taxes or spoke ill of our country. However mistaken we were because that morning May 15th is when we began to learn how vile humans could be. The Russians had defeated the Ottoman Empire and whilst the world was consumed with war the ones we trusted to protect us began to turn and erase our existence. The Ottoman Empire began to blame the Armenians because the Russians had defended us, so we became the target as a way to get over the empire’s loss. A pounding echoed through my house just as the sun began to cast a purple glow over our town. I quickly covered myself as my husband went down to see who dare awaken us this early. Men barged into my room grabbing me by the arm, I saw my daughter Lucine being pulled by her long braid, her hair now tousled in a mess atop her head, as well as my sons having a gun to their backs. My older son Jirair was bleeding from his mouth which had obviously been hit by one of the Turkish men. Avedis my younger son looked my way and I shook my head signaling him not to cry. An argument ensued between my husband and the leading man of the Turk group. It didn’t last long as they began beating my husband. I stepped forward but knew I was no match for them, the only thing I could do was wrap my arms around my children’s faces to protect them. I couldn’t even do that as the group of men held each one of us down and made us watch as they took turns raping my husband.
At that point in my life it was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen to strip a man of so much pride to a crying man of nothing. To this day I believe that my husband was not crying because of any pain they were causing him but at the site of which he was put in while his family watched. He had never wanted his family to see him so low. My son Jirair had always been one to speak out and he began cussing the men, telling them they were betraying their country and its people by doing this. He had been silenced with a quick swipe of an axe. The man did not stop as he kept thrusting the axe in and out of my sons body which didn’t even look like a body anymore.

Blood painted the walls in splatters as my two children and I lay there defenseless letting our clothes and skin soak the blood that seeped through the floors. We were dragged outside and pushed on a caravan. It was the last time I saw Adevis as they took him away, I can still remember his face, crestfallen but still strong remembering me telling him not to cry. They had confiscated everything of value that we had on us. I had three Piastre which wasn’t much at all but they made it seem like it was worth much more then I was.
About five days later on May 20th we had been walking for about the past four days. I didn’t know where we headed but my legs were throbbing, in fact every part of me was throbbing. They hadn’t given us any food or water and my Lucine was so weak the only thing that kept me going was trying to keep her alive. Women had started fainting and the men began beating us repeatedly. I had met a woman named Berjouhi and just like her name she was very elegant and intelligent. Even deprived of food and water she still looked strong. Her belly protruded, she had told me she was six months pregnant and hoped it would be a girl much like mine. As the sun began to set and the weather began to lower they gathered up woman. Berjouhi whispered “Cover your face with mud and dirt.” I trusted her judgment and helped her cover my daughter. I told her to do it to herself but she did not listen but instead helped us.
The men gathered up the prettiest woman, Berjouhi included. One of the men told Berjouhi to stop looking at him in this way that she was always going to dominate, she would never let anyone belittle her in any way. He got so frustrated he brought the axe up high and sliced her stomach. He ripped out her unborn baby and began slicing up her body. Not once did she cry, her face only faltered when she saw her babies fetus on the ground. At that time I think she welcomed death. I would soon know how she felt. I was shocked I even survived this long but after another week May 27th I was sure my god would call for me after last night, losing my daughter, was one of the last steps. Her frail body just couldn’t keep up anymore and she began to slow down. Lucine fell to the ground, I had thought she just fainted but her body was cold as ice. At this time I welcomed death. I watched women jump off the cliff with their lifeless babies. Women getting raped in front of my eyes. I didn't feel anger, hate, or sadness. I didn't feel anything.
On May 28th we had stopped walking, some babies were surprisingly still alive but some mothers were carrying lifeless corpses. The men stole the babies out of the mothers clutches as women screamed to not have their babies taken from them, regardless if they were still alive or not. The men took the stolen babies and threw them up in the air while laughing. They took aim and threw their swords, target practicing, with the most innocent creatures on earth. Target practicing and laughing! Laughing at their disgraceful behavior of piercing a babies head or torso with their filthy weapons. I turned over ignoring their behavior, there was no point to say anything I would only be killed. Maybe I should say something, no I wouldn't want to be killed by one of them. Anywhere I looked was death. It was either watch them sever the crying innocence or look at the Tigris River which from where I was located I could clearly see it littered with bodies of ones who either died or took their own lives. Either way I closed my eyes and envisioned my family only to hear the sound of the babies crying stop one by one.

On May 29th I was but a shell. There was nothing left in me. About a few hundred of us were left but there was no difference between us. All uniform bodies moving, you couldn’t tell who was who. It was becoming dark in the sky and I watched the stars twinkle in radiance. Could they not see our circumstances? How could they shine so bright, when the creatures below them were so dull. Were they mocking us? Just like those Turks? Just like the rest of the world who had not tried to come to our aid? Were they all laughing? Were they? We were just a ways away from the Tigris, women ran to the trench drinking the soiled water of flesh, bone, and blood. I could see the bloated blackened bodies, so crowded together with other poor souls that they couldn’t even float down the river to free themselves even after death. I knew better, how I wanted to join them, just for that instance of relief, to have the cool water touch upon my dry cracked lips. They felt what it was like to be human for a split second but that was the last feeling they had before they were all decapitated or axed in half. The gritty sand below me felt soft as if I was back in my bed. My knotted up hair a pillow to rest upon. I didn’t know the time or what was even next to me because it was so dark. “…Alive?” I heard that word spoken. No, I was no longer alive. Those words weren’t for me. “Bring her…” Who were they bringing, bringing where? Were more being taken to be raped? No, they would’ve taken her regardless if she was alive or not. I felt my body almost break as I was lifted. What was this warmth I was feeling? The Turkish men felt pity on me and decided to end my life right? My God was calling for me? All I heard was steps, sandy steps, silent steps. “How horrid.” It was the last thing I heard.
My body hurt, it hurt to open my eyes as I felt the crust try to force them closed. A dimly lit room was my surrounding. I noticed other beds, around five all clustered together next to mine. There was a little walk way that could fit around two people. “How are you feeling?” How was I feeling? How could someone dare ask me such a question? It was the shrilled voice of a little girl, around 12 years old. She looked like my Lucine except her hair was neat, she looked clean, strong. I thought I was hallucinating or dreaming. Did I dream the whole thing? No, I didn’t know my current surrounding. People don’t just dream things like that. It was too real. “You’ve been sleeping for about two days. I hope you don’t mind, I cleaned you up. I take care of all of you, with my parents and brother.” She rinsed out the cloth in the heavy looking bucket she had put down. I noticed the other five beds were not vacant. Another woman began waking up. I remember drinking up the water and eating the hard bread she gave me. This was all a trick I knew that but I did not care anymore. I wanted to feel human for a split second. I hung onto every word the girls voice spoke from her tales of her dolls to what was going on in our country. A young man in robes walked in carrying more food. I felt a jolt of fear spring through my back. Eda, the little girl noticed my discomfort and kindly told her brother to leave but to send in her mother.
I felt disgusted at myself to take refuge in this place, the Turks did this to my people so why should I let them help me? Eda assured me that by doing this her family was in danger but did not care because her people had no right to do such a thing, even she understood this was wrong. “I wish we could save more,” Eda exclaimed squeezing the cloth so tightly her hands turned pale. “Why are they doing this?” Another woman who was there had died from her wounds which made everyone else become riled up. “Eda, humans are creatures who think they are superior. They want power, they are greedy.”
Both I and another woman named Yeva lived with Eda and her family for two years, we were the only survivors of the original six, the ones that once lied beside me. We helped rescue others and I came to realize just how hard it was to do so. I understood Eda’s feelings about rescuing everyone and how we couldn’t. This family filled with people I once hated were risking their lives for what was good to go against their own people and help my own. We helped Armenian survivors make their way to places such as Iran, Europe, Syria, Lebanon, Russia and the United States.

After another two years Eda who was then 16 told me I needed to leave. However her mother didn’t just tell me to leave but also Eda. They had found out about us helping Armenians escape and were coming after us. I tried to tell them to let me stay but Takouhi, Eda’s mother told me that it would mean nothing if we didn’t survive. She wanted me to take her daughter to safety. As a mother who had lost the most precious things, I told Takouhi that I would never let anything bad happen to Eda. Within the next few hours Eda and I were on our way to Russia. From there we traveled to the United States. We never heard from Eda’s family ever again.
Other countries had noticed what was going on but did not want to get involved as they were all still under fire with World War I. I thought they were cowards. If a family could save so many people then why couldn’t a whole country? Eda and I continued to live on with our new lives always keeping a close eye on any reports going on about the Armenian massacres. There were people raising money to send to the victims such as the Red Cross and the Near East Relief but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. After the Genocide ended in 1923 they deported any Armenians left on their land.
The Kars and Ardahan provinces remaining in Armenia were then controlled by the Soviet Union. I will never forgive the Turks for what they did to my country, my people, my family, and to me. Although I will never forgive them, I will never wish anything like this upon them. Every April 24th we celebrate and pray to the ones that past. I just wish we could get an apology. Nothing will ever be enough to heal us, not even time. And as those vile people know what they did and refuse to acknowledge it by saying this travesty never happened as they’re being tried and hung I truly hope they burn in hell.
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To this day the Turks deny ever having a Genocide but instead say that the Armenians were killed because of war. Even though they wiped out these people, drowned their villages, and destroyed any funeral remains of the Armenians they still hold tightly to their story and refuse to take responsibility. In 2004 the Turkish government made a law that if you dare speak about the Armenian Genocide you will be put in jail for a minimum of ten years. Many people say that it happened in the past, it was a long time ago, we have to move on and get over it. However new generations have come and none of them have taken responsibility, maybe one day the Turks will have a new generation arise of humans.