Father Michael Gevorgyan, a priest in the Armenian Apostolic Church, was on hand when tens of thousands of people began arriving in Armenia’s Syunik Province from Nagorno-Karabakh a year ago.
On Sept. 19 last year, Azerbaijan launched a military operation in Nagorno-Karabakh, which led to the displacement of more than 100,000 Armenians. The disputed territory of Nagorno-Karabakh is part of Azerbaijan, however, it’s been historically inhabited by a majority-Armenian population.
Gevorgyan, who serves at the Tatev Monastery, which has been a place of worship for Armenian Christians since the 9th century, said that the plight of the refugees left him speechless.
“We cried. When I tried to speak, I wept. How can you see this and not weep?” Gevorgyan said.
Many of the Karabakh Armenians didn’t even get a chance to pack, and they left everything behind. Although most of them continued their journey north, to the Armenian capital of Yerevan, many stayed in Syunik Province, in southern Armenia — the area closest to Nagorno-Karabakh.
Many of those families are still struggling to adjust to life in their new home.
Raya Makyan settled in the village of Shinuhayr, not far from the monastery in Tatev. Makyan, who lived in Vaghuhas and Haterk in Nagorno-Karabakh for most of her life, said that the war came unexpectedly even though Azerbaijan had laid siege to the region for nine months.
“We didn’t know that the war would start. We were gathering together at the cemetery, to visit our familial gravesites,” she said, adding, “ That’s when we heard the sounds, the shooting and the explosions. Those scary noises.”
Makyan said that, that night, she and other family members slept in their basement. But most of the family left Nagorno-Karabakh about a week later.
Makyan said that she misses all of the natural beauty back at home — the plants and the fruit trees.
“We had many fruit trees on our property: pear trees, apple trees and cherries — we had it all,” she said. “Now, it’s all left behind.”
Makyan said that those fruit trees helped them live through Azerbaijan’s siege, because food was scarce in the months before Azerbaijan’s military operation.
“It was difficult. People in Nagorno-Karabakh were surviving. But it seemed to me that they remained happy. They were hungry, but they were happy. Because they were in their homeland.”
Makyan’s daughter, Lusine Emiryan, who is also in Shinuhayr, said that her husband Abel Mirzoyan stayed in Nagorno-Karabakh as a volunteer soldier and that her sister’s husband also took up arms.
“My sister didn’t know where her husband was. I didn’t know where my husband was. People tried to search for them, but no one found them.”
Emiryan said that her sister’s husband was captured by Azerbaijani forces and remains a prisoner of war in Baku as negotiations between Azerbaijan and Armenia continue.
But her husband is missing in action. She last heard from him a year ago.
“More than anything else, I want to see my husband. Everything else is secondary. Of course, I miss our homeland. But I don’t have my husband, I don’t know where he is, I want to see him more than anything.”
Emiryan said that talking about her husband is difficult for her — she said that she feels as if the pain will never pass.
Gevorgyan, the priest, said that many people displaced from Nagorno-Karabakh come to him looking for advice.
“If the wound is still open, you first need to stop the bleeding — only then, the healing begins.”
Healing from the loss of life, and from the trauma of losing home.