Armenia: I (wish I could) take away your pain

Հայաստան։ ցավդ տանեմ

One of the phrases you hear quite often when you live in Armenia, or a phrase you notice quickly as a foreigner living there, is ցավդ տանեմ. It literally means “I take your pain.”  It is a special phrase that I initially thought to be rather trite or overused because you constantly hear it said in daily conversations.

However, it took me a year of living in Armenia and about a half-year (post-Armenia) of reflecting on those words to really understand them. To actually “get them” as we say in English. Learning about Armenian culture and the aftermath of the genocide at the start of the 20th century, you begin to understand that Armenians know something about pain. They’ve had their fair share of suffering. But the special part of the unique Armenian experience, at least for me while living there, is how much of the pain of family, colleagues and even strangers they are willing to take on as their own burden. If they say ցավդ տաեեմ։  to you, they honestly mean that through some act, big or small, they would like to make your situation better.

As I watch the events unfold in Artsakh (commonly called Nagorno-Karabakh, but I use the Armenian term because of the bonds I formed with Armenians and my ties to families whose sons have been drafted), I think yet again about the selflessness of the Armenian people. They are so hospitable and welcoming, and the struggle of Armenian populations in Artsakh really is their struggle. It is also a painful situation that reminds them of the events of 1914-1923 that saw Armenians lose access to over half their native lands and be forced into a world that was sometimes welcoming, sometimes not. Of course, in many cases they had to survive the forced marches across the Syrian desert to even gain access to new lives and new opportunities.

Yet, if you look now, as their diaspora rises up to speak about the unnecessary and destabilizing conflict and aggression (fomented by present-day Armenia’s Western neighbor and easily seized upon by their Eastern one), you see the greater Armenian global family come to life. You hear the slowly growing cry of ցավդ տանեմ as Armenians from all around the world work to raise awareness of the larger problems of the Azeri-Armenian conflict and to support their kinfolk. Armenians in the diaspora from California in the USA to the shores of Lebanon, from the streets of Paris or even Prague’s Old Town Square are calling for the world to act: to see the pain and suffering caused, not so much by Azeri-Armenian-instigated fighting, i.e. that of two peoples, but rather by the work of two despots Erdogan and Aliyev, who have exacerbated conflict for political gain. These two men have taken advantage of the instability, suffering and chaos of a Covid-stricken world and are using aggression to distract domestic populations from their own shortcomings as leaders.

In 2018, the people of Armenia went to the streets, they elected a reform-minded government. They had what they called their Velvet Revolution: in fact, that makes Armenia the second country I’ve called home for a time that has had such a calm, people-driven call for change and reforms that led down the path to a peaceful, democratic existence.  I want the Armenians to be able to continue down that path.  I want to scream from the top of my lungs to all my Armenian friends, to the youth of that country, to the peoples of Artsakh seeking self-determination: ցավդ տաեեմ։  I want you all to have the peace and prosperity you so deserve, and I wish I could take away your pain.

 

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