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A MEMORY FADING, FORGOTTEN AND FORSWORN
By Chrissie Long/Staff Writer, [email protected].
Newton TAB, MA
GateHouse News Service
Tue Sep 18, 2007, 12:43 PM EDT
Survivor wants to forget Armenian genocide; daughter wants to remember
Armenian genocide survivor Peter Bilezikian shares a laugh with friend
Tatoul Badalian at his Newton home of 63 years. Photo: Kate Flock.
The first thing Peter Bilezikian said as he fell into a padded chair
in his Lowell Avenue living room was, "I forgot all about it. I don't
want to even talk about it, and I don't want to hear about it and I
don't want to see it."
The Newton resident has never been open about his childhood in the
Armenian Genocide and, for his daughter, Bethel Charkoudian, who sat
beside him, stories about the genocide always came in bits and pieces.
"I'd have to pick and pick and pick," she said one afternoon as she
played through one-minute sound bites of his stories she had recorded
over the years. "It was always hard to get him to say anything."
Now, more than 90 years later, he is one of the last remaining
survivors of the genocide. His memories are slowly slipping away
due to Alzheimer's - and with it fades the collective memory of the
massacres, soon to be buried in diaries and history books.
While Charkoudian is trying to hold onto her father's memories,
there are others who are trying to forget: the perpetrators, the
Turkish government, are among them.
Fearing that it would alienate the Turkish government - which is in
sharp denial that the killings were a genocide - the United States
has not officially recognized the genocide of the Armenian people.
For the thousands of the Armenian-Americans who live in the United
States, the denial of their past is something they have to live with
every day.
"I feel betrayed by the United States government," said Charkoudian,
a Newton Corner resident who now owns her own business selling
out-of-print books. "To say that it didn't happen is the ultimate
betrayal. We have no history. All of our books and all of our people
were destroyed."
Charkoudian,like many sons and daughters of the genocide, desperately
clings to any memories of Armenia, while her parents, and the world
around them, are trying to forget.
The Armenian Genocide was the planned extermination of a race of
people between 1915 and 1923. The Turks perceived the non-Muslim
Armenian minority as better educated, wealthier people who lived in
nicer neighborhoods. Out of jealousy or out of fear, the Young Turks
government determined that the Armenian people needed to be destroyed.
Bilezikian was only 3 years old when the first neighborhoods of his
hometown of Marash were emptied.
His family's vast orchards and vineyards were signed over to the
Turks - along with anything else of value.
Men were conscripted into the army - taken away from their families,
never to be seen again. They came for Bilezikian's 9-year-old brother,
but his mother told them, "He is just out of diapers, how can you
take him into the army?"
Soldiers would march women and children on death marches through the
desert until they died from exhaustion. Women were raped and unborn
babies were ripped from their mothers' wombs.
Bilezikian's mother escaped the marches only by going into hiding
every time the soldiers came through the neighborhood.
"My family was very fortunate," said Charkoudian, Bilezikian's eldest
daughter. "They must have had a guardian angel."
Bilezikian remembers the carts that came through the neighborhood to
pick up the dead bodies. He remembers the children standing in the
streets with bloated stomachs and stick-thin legs. Also etched in
his memory are the people who had tongues sliced from their mouths
because they were caught speaking Armenian.
But, he has left those memories in the past. Today, he walks through
his house singing in Turkish and joking with his guests.
Hidden wounds While Bilezikian has left his past behind him, he still
bears the scars, one of which cuts through his scalp.
He couldn't have been more than 7, his daughter said, when he stood
before an Armenian woman asking for a piece of bread.
"You can't have any," she said. "This bread is for my children. They
are hungry."
Just then, a bullet skimmed his scalp and pierced the woman in the
forehead.
Bilezikian gathered up the bread and, when he was finished eating it,
he wasn't hungry for two days, he said.
"I asked him once, 'Dad, why didn't you feel compassion for that
woman?'" Charkoudian said. "He responded, 'If I felt compassion for
everyone, I wouldn't have survived.'"
Hunger also scarred my father, said Charkoudian. "He says that because
he was hungry then, he doesn't feel hunger anymore."
Instead of going to school, Bilezikian would follow his brother to the
mountains and shoot at the Turkish boys with old-fashioned slingshots.
"They would mimic the conflict in the mountains," Charkoudian said.
An escape that came too late Bilezikian's father left for the United
States in 1914 - just months before the genocide began. Sensing
something was going to happen, he wanted to prepare a home in the
Boston area to bring his family over.
Hatred toward the Armenians wasn't new. Bilezikian's mother had
witnessed the murder of both of her parents in 1895, while hiding in
her sister's closet. Her name, Bethel Charkoudian, matches the name
of orphanage in which she grew up.
When the genocide began, Bilezikian's father could no longer
communicate with his wife or four children.
They were left on their own to make it through the five-year
extermination.
Bilezikian's mother, who was able to escape persecution because she
looked like a Turk, worked in a local hospital to feed her children.
One day, a wounded soldier came into the hospital wearing her mother
in-law's coat. When she asked him, "Where did you get that coat?"
He responded, "We threw this giavour (infidel) into the oven and kept
the coat."
Her mother in-law had disappeared on a trip to the bakery.
Unable to show her emotion, Bilezikian's mother had to leave the room.
Bilezikian lost more than his grandmother in the eight-year
genocide. His uncle and seven cousins were taken from their home and
never returned.
"I can't name them all," he said. "There were so many of them
[who died]."
The genocide ended in 1923 and the remaining Armenians were evacuated.
Life in the United States Bilezikian left with his mother and his
siblings and boarded an Italian ship for the United States.
His family reconnected with his father in New York and they moved to
Watertown, where Bilezikian eventually graduated from high school. He
was offered a full scholarship to MIT, which he ultimately turned
down in order to support his family.
He founded Newtonville Electrical Company with his brother, Paul,
in 1933, servicing customers all over New England and eventually
growing to have 14 employees.
Bilezikian moved to his home on Lowell Avenue in 1934.
He married an Armenian-American and together they had three children.
"He came here because people here knew what he went through," his
daughter told a room full of Armenian-Americans during a recent
Human Rights Commission meeting. Due to urgings from her and others,
the Human Rights Commission recommended the mayor end the city's
relationship with No Place for Hate, whose parent organization refused
to recognize the Armenian Genocide.
She said later, "Newton parents would tell their children, 'Finish your
meal, there are starving children in Armenia. People here understood
where we came from. They were helpful and welcoming'."
"They loved us," Bilezikian added.
After his daughter had spoken, Bilezikian stood up - out of turn,
but with no intention of waiting - and reminded the crowd that while
the extermination was perpetrated by the Turkish government, many
Turkish people fiercely protected their Armenian neighbors.
"If it weren't for the Turkish people, every Armenian would have been
killed," he said. "Turkish people hided a great many people."
A lasting memory While Bilezikian has made a conscious effort to
forget his past, his daughter will not.
"All of these stories peppered my childhood," said Charkoudian, who
records other Armenians' oral history. "In fact, my name has allowed me
never to forget. Whenever folks meet me, they ask me about my name -
unusual, how did you get it? And so the genocide is often the second
thing [after my name] that people know about me."
The tapes of oral history Charkoudian has recorded over the years
are punctuated with her father saying, "Why do you want to talk about
it? We don't like to remember bad things."
Or, after a two-minute interview, "Well, you got a lot of information
today. We'll have to shut that off."
But Charkoudian has continued her careful prodding, piecing together
the snap shots of her past.
She said, Adolf Hitler once asked, 'After all, who remembers the
Armenians?'
Chardoukian is determined to remember. She wants her children to
remember. But most of all, she wants the world to remember.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
By Chrissie Long/Staff Writer, [email protected].
Newton TAB, MA
GateHouse News Service
Tue Sep 18, 2007, 12:43 PM EDT
Survivor wants to forget Armenian genocide; daughter wants to remember
Armenian genocide survivor Peter Bilezikian shares a laugh with friend
Tatoul Badalian at his Newton home of 63 years. Photo: Kate Flock.
The first thing Peter Bilezikian said as he fell into a padded chair
in his Lowell Avenue living room was, "I forgot all about it. I don't
want to even talk about it, and I don't want to hear about it and I
don't want to see it."
The Newton resident has never been open about his childhood in the
Armenian Genocide and, for his daughter, Bethel Charkoudian, who sat
beside him, stories about the genocide always came in bits and pieces.
"I'd have to pick and pick and pick," she said one afternoon as she
played through one-minute sound bites of his stories she had recorded
over the years. "It was always hard to get him to say anything."
Now, more than 90 years later, he is one of the last remaining
survivors of the genocide. His memories are slowly slipping away
due to Alzheimer's - and with it fades the collective memory of the
massacres, soon to be buried in diaries and history books.
While Charkoudian is trying to hold onto her father's memories,
there are others who are trying to forget: the perpetrators, the
Turkish government, are among them.
Fearing that it would alienate the Turkish government - which is in
sharp denial that the killings were a genocide - the United States
has not officially recognized the genocide of the Armenian people.
For the thousands of the Armenian-Americans who live in the United
States, the denial of their past is something they have to live with
every day.
"I feel betrayed by the United States government," said Charkoudian,
a Newton Corner resident who now owns her own business selling
out-of-print books. "To say that it didn't happen is the ultimate
betrayal. We have no history. All of our books and all of our people
were destroyed."
Charkoudian,like many sons and daughters of the genocide, desperately
clings to any memories of Armenia, while her parents, and the world
around them, are trying to forget.
The Armenian Genocide was the planned extermination of a race of
people between 1915 and 1923. The Turks perceived the non-Muslim
Armenian minority as better educated, wealthier people who lived in
nicer neighborhoods. Out of jealousy or out of fear, the Young Turks
government determined that the Armenian people needed to be destroyed.
Bilezikian was only 3 years old when the first neighborhoods of his
hometown of Marash were emptied.
His family's vast orchards and vineyards were signed over to the
Turks - along with anything else of value.
Men were conscripted into the army - taken away from their families,
never to be seen again. They came for Bilezikian's 9-year-old brother,
but his mother told them, "He is just out of diapers, how can you
take him into the army?"
Soldiers would march women and children on death marches through the
desert until they died from exhaustion. Women were raped and unborn
babies were ripped from their mothers' wombs.
Bilezikian's mother escaped the marches only by going into hiding
every time the soldiers came through the neighborhood.
"My family was very fortunate," said Charkoudian, Bilezikian's eldest
daughter. "They must have had a guardian angel."
Bilezikian remembers the carts that came through the neighborhood to
pick up the dead bodies. He remembers the children standing in the
streets with bloated stomachs and stick-thin legs. Also etched in
his memory are the people who had tongues sliced from their mouths
because they were caught speaking Armenian.
But, he has left those memories in the past. Today, he walks through
his house singing in Turkish and joking with his guests.
Hidden wounds While Bilezikian has left his past behind him, he still
bears the scars, one of which cuts through his scalp.
He couldn't have been more than 7, his daughter said, when he stood
before an Armenian woman asking for a piece of bread.
"You can't have any," she said. "This bread is for my children. They
are hungry."
Just then, a bullet skimmed his scalp and pierced the woman in the
forehead.
Bilezikian gathered up the bread and, when he was finished eating it,
he wasn't hungry for two days, he said.
"I asked him once, 'Dad, why didn't you feel compassion for that
woman?'" Charkoudian said. "He responded, 'If I felt compassion for
everyone, I wouldn't have survived.'"
Hunger also scarred my father, said Charkoudian. "He says that because
he was hungry then, he doesn't feel hunger anymore."
Instead of going to school, Bilezikian would follow his brother to the
mountains and shoot at the Turkish boys with old-fashioned slingshots.
"They would mimic the conflict in the mountains," Charkoudian said.
An escape that came too late Bilezikian's father left for the United
States in 1914 - just months before the genocide began. Sensing
something was going to happen, he wanted to prepare a home in the
Boston area to bring his family over.
Hatred toward the Armenians wasn't new. Bilezikian's mother had
witnessed the murder of both of her parents in 1895, while hiding in
her sister's closet. Her name, Bethel Charkoudian, matches the name
of orphanage in which she grew up.
When the genocide began, Bilezikian's father could no longer
communicate with his wife or four children.
They were left on their own to make it through the five-year
extermination.
Bilezikian's mother, who was able to escape persecution because she
looked like a Turk, worked in a local hospital to feed her children.
One day, a wounded soldier came into the hospital wearing her mother
in-law's coat. When she asked him, "Where did you get that coat?"
He responded, "We threw this giavour (infidel) into the oven and kept
the coat."
Her mother in-law had disappeared on a trip to the bakery.
Unable to show her emotion, Bilezikian's mother had to leave the room.
Bilezikian lost more than his grandmother in the eight-year
genocide. His uncle and seven cousins were taken from their home and
never returned.
"I can't name them all," he said. "There were so many of them
[who died]."
The genocide ended in 1923 and the remaining Armenians were evacuated.
Life in the United States Bilezikian left with his mother and his
siblings and boarded an Italian ship for the United States.
His family reconnected with his father in New York and they moved to
Watertown, where Bilezikian eventually graduated from high school. He
was offered a full scholarship to MIT, which he ultimately turned
down in order to support his family.
He founded Newtonville Electrical Company with his brother, Paul,
in 1933, servicing customers all over New England and eventually
growing to have 14 employees.
Bilezikian moved to his home on Lowell Avenue in 1934.
He married an Armenian-American and together they had three children.
"He came here because people here knew what he went through," his
daughter told a room full of Armenian-Americans during a recent
Human Rights Commission meeting. Due to urgings from her and others,
the Human Rights Commission recommended the mayor end the city's
relationship with No Place for Hate, whose parent organization refused
to recognize the Armenian Genocide.
She said later, "Newton parents would tell their children, 'Finish your
meal, there are starving children in Armenia. People here understood
where we came from. They were helpful and welcoming'."
"They loved us," Bilezikian added.
After his daughter had spoken, Bilezikian stood up - out of turn,
but with no intention of waiting - and reminded the crowd that while
the extermination was perpetrated by the Turkish government, many
Turkish people fiercely protected their Armenian neighbors.
"If it weren't for the Turkish people, every Armenian would have been
killed," he said. "Turkish people hided a great many people."
A lasting memory While Bilezikian has made a conscious effort to
forget his past, his daughter will not.
"All of these stories peppered my childhood," said Charkoudian, who
records other Armenians' oral history. "In fact, my name has allowed me
never to forget. Whenever folks meet me, they ask me about my name -
unusual, how did you get it? And so the genocide is often the second
thing [after my name] that people know about me."
The tapes of oral history Charkoudian has recorded over the years
are punctuated with her father saying, "Why do you want to talk about
it? We don't like to remember bad things."
Or, after a two-minute interview, "Well, you got a lot of information
today. We'll have to shut that off."
But Charkoudian has continued her careful prodding, piecing together
the snap shots of her past.
She said, Adolf Hitler once asked, 'After all, who remembers the
Armenians?'
Chardoukian is determined to remember. She wants her children to
remember. But most of all, she wants the world to remember.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress