For Nineveh Press’s readers and followers, we are here publishing a series of selected extracts from the book “Armenia, mon amour”, edited by Svante Lundgren & Serafim Seppälä. The second extract, published here below, is from Bernard Coulie‘s contribution to the book (pages 50–51).
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To visit Armenia is to remember the Armenians who have lived there and thus keep them alive. My Armenia is also that Armenia, the one that remembers. Nothing expresses this better than the commemoration of the victims of the genocide. I have attended several 24 April ceremonies in Yerevan, including the one to mark the centenary in 2015. Each year, whatever the weather, thousands of Armenians from home and abroad embark on the long walk to the top of Tsitsernakaberd (Armenian for “swallow’s fortress”), overlooking Yerevan. There, on the windswept esplanade, the click-clack of the flapping flags mingles with the scuffle of feet on stone. These are the only sounds to be heard; the atmosphere is one of contemplation. Led by officials, the Armenians then make their way along the wall that stands as a reminder of where the deportation and massacres took place, from Constantinople to the Syrian Desert. In doing so, each year they retrace the footsteps of their ancestors who were removed forcibly from their homes, marched in convoys, robbed, beaten, tortured and killed. Once they reach the end they go down a few steps and enter a circular area covered in stone slabs inclined like weeping mothers huddled over their dead children. In the centre burns the flame of remembrance, around which each person lays a flower. Eventually, a whole wall of flowers is formed, symbolising the Armenian people’s solidarity with the genocide victims. These flowers are like the colophons in manuscripts and the inscriptions on church walls. They are the weapon of memory, the most powerful weapon the Armenian people have ever had.
24 April 2015, Tsiternakaberd.
This is my Armenia. The Armenia of a memory that lives on, of a memory that keeps the past alive. My Armenia is where books meet reality, words meet action, the past meets the present and knowledge meets experience.
Extract from “Armenia, mon amour” (2)
For Nineveh Press’s readers and followers, we are here publishing a series of selected extracts from the book “Armenia, mon amour”, edited by Svante Lundgren & Serafim Seppälä. The second extract, published here below, is from Bernard Coulie‘s contribution to the book (pages 50–51).
______________________
To visit Armenia is to remember the Armenians who have lived there and thus keep them alive.
My Armenia is also that Armenia, the one that remembers. Nothing expresses this better than the commemoration of the victims of the genocide.
I have attended several 24 April ceremonies in Yerevan, including the one to mark the centenary in 2015. Each year, whatever the weather, thousands of Armenians from home and abroad embark on the long walk to the top of Tsitsernakaberd (Armenian for “swallow’s fortress”), overlooking Yerevan. There, on the windswept esplanade, the click-clack of the flapping flags mingles with the scuffle of feet on stone. These are the only sounds to be heard; the atmosphere is one of contemplation. Led by officials, the Armenians then make their way along the wall that stands as a reminder of where the deportation and massacres took place, from Constantinople to the Syrian Desert. In doing so, each year they retrace the footsteps of their ancestors who were removed forcibly from their homes, marched in convoys, robbed, beaten, tortured and killed. Once they reach the end they go down a few steps and enter a circular area covered in stone slabs inclined like weeping mothers huddled over their dead children. In the centre burns the flame of remembrance, around which each person lays a flower. Eventually, a whole wall of flowers is formed, symbolising the Armenian people’s solidarity with the genocide victims. These flowers are like the colophons in manuscripts and the inscriptions on church walls. They are the weapon of memory, the most powerful weapon the Armenian people have ever had.
This is my Armenia. The Armenia of a memory that lives on, of a memory that keeps the past alive. My Armenia is where books meet reality, words meet action, the past meets the present and knowledge meets experience.
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Order your copy of “Armenia, mon amour” here.