In recent times, particularly in the aftermath of the war, I embarked on a journey to visit the last remaining villages of Armenia—those situated on the very edge of its borders.
THE LAST VILLAGE OF ARMENIA
In recent times, particularly in the aftermath of the war, I embarked on a journey to visit the last remaining villages of Armenia—those situated on the very edge of its borders. However, to say that these are the last villages would be misleading because Armenia's borders do not end there. In fact, they begin there, or at least they should. These are tumultuous times that have turned everything upside down, resulting in an Armenia that feels upside down.
Khachik, Nerkin Hand, Nrnadzor, Arevis...
These villages that now border the partitioned Artsakh are starkly different from their abandoned predecessors. When we speak to the teachers in these border villages, they are often met with the same initial questions: How did you manage to come this far, and what did you leave behind? Our homeland... we have lost our homeland, and now we strive to reclaim it.
Then come the speculations: they won't stay long, they'll leave in a few days. But we don't go, we stay. There's nowhere else for us to go.
"I don't know if we are part of Armenia, Iran, or Azerbaijan now."
It is undeniably painful. Even within ourselves, we may scold such a question, as how could one not know if it's Armenia or not? This village marks the very end of Armenia along the Aras River, where, if we look closely, we can catch a glimpse of the colors and shapes of Persian drivers' attire. On the other side lies Azerbaijan, after losing the southern part of Kashatagh. The village is connected to the Meghri-Shikahogh-Kapan highway via a rough dirt road, making transportation almost non-existent. With only about a dozen students attending the village school, we could cherish them like precious gems, considering the two million nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety other Armenians living in Armenia. Unfortunately, we fail to provide them with the basic right to primary education due to a shortage of teachers in English, Russian, physics, and various other subjects.
How must that villager feel, torn away from Armenia - separated and forgotten? Yes, forgotten. How many of us are aware of the existence of Nrnadzor, or even worse, how many have ventured there? Silence.
We might argue that it's far. But far from what? Armenia begins from there; we are the ones who are far away.
When I wrote about one of our border villages in the Sisian region, I mentioned that two more villages follow, and then comes Nakhichevan - once Armenian, now de-Armenianized and Azerbaijani.
On this side of Nakhichevan lie the two "still Armenian" villages, Tanahat and Arevis, with their dwindling populations.
Our decision was to visit Tanahat Monastery, a mostly ruined structure made of orange tuff, perched atop a hill. Equipped with our cameras, we took on the challenge despite warnings from locals that it wouldn't be possible.
From where we stood, the monastery was already visible, situated beyond the river on the hill. The weather was bitterly cold, with the wind howling so fiercely that we were almost propelled towards the monastery. However, we couldn't find a proper road to reach it. We contemplated ascending on foot but noticed a sign below, cautioning about the abundance of wild animals in the area. Not particularly enthusiastic about encountering them, we returned to our car and continued driving towards the village, admiring the monastery from a distance.
We passed by Tanahat village, the second-to-last one on this side, with only one resident - the village head - who doesn't even live in the village. Finally, we arrived at the last village, Arevis. Even after countless village visits, I had never come across a place like this. Life seemed to have frozen here centuries ago. The half-dilapidated cobblestone houses, gloomy streets, crumbling buildings, and roofs portrayed a village forgotten by time. There was a lone laundry in front of one house, a few antennas on the rooftops, a couple of parked cars, and a couple of cultivated gardens. That was the extent of activity. We crossed the village without encountering a single soul.
A village nestled in the forest, on the riverbank, boasting a fairytale-like view and abundant natural resources.
In the schoolyard, a magnificent Tumanyan walnut tree stood tall, while the school building itself, a small and old one-story structure, remained locked. It was almost 3 o'clock, and we couldn't ascertain if the school was open or not as there was no sign of anyone. According to online data, the school had only five students. On one of the windows, a cheerful girl was painted, and an emergency evacuation plan was displayed. Next to it stood a closed medical station.
I stood there in silence, observing my surroundings. The village resembled a small, dusty child in tattered clothes - hungry and sad, sitting alone on the riverbank, yearning for a comforting embrace, care, and attention. This is where practical love for our motherland truly lies, a collective love we seem to lack. What have I done to prevent this village from falling into such a state? Silence.
We decided to continue through the village until its end. Eventually, we reached a military outpost, where a soldier stood guard. He looked at us with astonishment and approached:
2 of 2 questions shown
The border begins after this. Armenia ends here. No, Armenia begins here. As we turn back, we reflect on Arevis, the forsaken village...
Undoubtedly, we yearn for Nakhichevan, for Western Armenia, for a united Armenia stretching from sea to sea. Yet, collectively, we fail to recognize Armenia from Araks to Debet.
Our Armenia now finds itself in the wrong place. Armenia should have started from here...
We shouldn't be questioned about what we've lost in these border villages. These villages shouldn't be distant; instead, we should measure Armenia from right here. We must rediscover these villages, ourselves, and Armenia anew. It's time to embark on a new beginning, right from where Armenia currently ends.
Armenia doesn't have a last village. In fact, Armenia has no end at all...
On August 10th, I was able to witness what Teach For Armenia has done for the students all over Armenia by visiting Shenavan Basic School in the mountains of Lori.
