Happy childhood in spirit of hate
Tomorrow the hatred will concern you

Literature (prose and poetry)

The Armenian1
By Elkhan Zeynalli (Qaraqan)

Chingiz was a refugee from Karabakh. His entire family died in Khojaly2. He was seven years old then, but he remembered nothing about his family, about Khojaly, he did not remember a single house or a single tree. No-thing…

When the enemy passed to the offensive, a shell exploded near Chingiz and after that he forgot everything about his childhood. Snow-covered roads, whistling of bullets and dead people was all he remembered. Like other orphans, he was given to a family in a settlement for refugees. It is impossible to imagine in what kind of conditions the child grew up. Far from his homeland. Without father and mother. Their blood remained unavenged, but there was nothing he could do. The only memory from his family was a photo of his mother. His sacred mother was stroking the head of a small calf. She was looking at Chingiz from the photo. He never parted with the photo during his childhood.

Looking at the photo, Chingiz loved his mother as much as he hated the mean Armenians. The impudent, fierce and bloodthirsty Armenians. Chingiz hated them and that hatred made him stronger. His hatred became stronger as he grew up. Chingiz promised himself that the day would come when he would exterminate all Armenians. He went in for wrestling when he was a child; he was the best at history at school. After doing military service, he decided to become a professional serviceman. He never parted with his weapon. Every night in his dream he attacked Armenian villages and set fire to their houses. He shot Armenian men, raped women and throttled children. When meeting his friends, he called on them to wage a holy war.

Chingiz said:
– Our nation has always been forgiving, my friends. Forgetfulness was our biggest mistake, the mistake of the Turks. We should massacre the Armenians without delay.
Hey Turk, return to your sources, you become stronger when you return to yourself. We are a selected nation. The Turks should rule the world. Our enemies will never allow us to live in peace. That is why we should come together and erase them.
The Armenians have always been mean. For centuries, they gained our confidence with their double-faced and hypocritical policy and every time they stabbed us in the back. They are untrustworthy.
They all are mean and they all should die. Their children are nasty because their blood is nasty, they have thief's blood. All Armenians should be erased from earth. Peace is impossible. Only war. They shed our blood and we must shed their blood. Until the last Armenian!

Chingiz's calls filled his friends with enthusiasm. They, for their part, spread those ideas, calling on everyone to fight the Armenian dogs.

The aim was not only Karabakh, but also the entire Armenia. Chingiz said:
– It is necessary to destroy Armenia by dropping a bomb on it. To exterminate the children and the women as each child will become an Armenian soldier and each woman will give birth to a bloodsucker Armenian. They all hate us. When you see ordinary Armenians, you cannot say and think that they are guilty, but they all hate you in their heart. They hate you because you are Turks. Do you want peace? Peace?!! What peace can there be? To open the borders after returning Karabakh so that the Armenians will return to Baku, so that some Armenian zibil3  will enter the bedroom of our pure Azerbaijani women? Do you want this?!
What about the Honor and Self-esteem? We must attack them and eradicate them, once and for all…

When Chingiz turned 21, he met a very beautiful girl. Her name was Sabina. Chingiz fell in love with her at first sight. Sabina studied at the history department and Chingiz met her every day after classes, proudly wearing his military uniform. They often walked in the park, holding each other's hands. They got accustomed to each other in a short time. Chingiz's financial position improved and he bought an apartment in the city center. One day matchmakers came to Sabina's home. The girl's family did not mind. The guy was a serviceman, he did not drink alcohol, was not a smoker, was attached to his homeland, was on his feet, also, he was young and handsome. They got engaged and everything went on all right.

Several black-dressed men came to Chingiz one day:
– We must take you away for two days, Chingiz.

Chingiz stood still, at a loss:
– Who are you? Why are you taking me away? Where?

One of them replied:
– We are aware that you are going to get married, Chingiz. But you must meet someone. Don't worry about your wedding. We will care for everything. It is very important that you meet one person.

– Whom, where?

– We must go to Georgia, Chingiz. Your mother is waiting for you there.

Chingiz had tears in his eyes when he heard that sacred word. He embraced the men and pressed them to himself. His hands were trembling. It means that his mother is alive. It means that she managed to escape. How many years had passed, how much time had passed, at last he could reunite with his mother. Chingiz imagined stroking his mother's hair and kissing her eyes...

A train took them to Georgia the next morning. At an unknown train station his mother cried loudly, embracing his shoulders. Chingiz also wept, pressing himself to his mother. His mother was holding a fragment of the very photo that Chingiz had kept since his childhood. That fragment depicted Chingiz as a child. He understood that his mother had torn the photo in half and hidden one part in Chingiz's bosom so that they could find each other after the attack of the Armenian bloodsuckers. Chingiz was boiling hot. In his mother's arms he remembered the cold, lonely nights and wept even more loudly.

At last he could take his mother home to Azerbaijan after so many years' stay in a foreign land, Georgia. He was wandering in dreams and did not hear his mother whispering something to him, he heard nothing. Meanwhile his mother was saying something to him. He became more and more surprised. His mother was indeed saying something, but he did not know what language she was speaking. He did not understand his mother's speech.

Suddenly someone put his hand on his shoulder from behind. It was one of the black-dressed men:
– Your mother is Armenian, Chingiz!!! …..

The time stopped, the time hands stopped moving forward, everything plunged into silence. The resonant silence made him feel as if his eardrums would rupture. Everything was ruined in a single moment.

The black-dressed man went on to say:
– Your father is also Armenian. All your ancestors were Armenian. You are also Armenian.

Chingiz turned and raised his hand against the speaker to smash him by hitting him in his face, but one of the men gripped his hand. Chingiz whined like a wounded wolf. His mother wanted to embrace him, but he moved away and, gripping his head, fell down to the ground. He could not believe it.

One of the men in black turned to him again saying:
– Be stronger, Chingiz! We wish you only good. We want you to know the truth.
Your family was one of the Armenian families living in Khojaly. You lost your memory when a shell exploded during the war. Well, and now…now it is this way. Now you know everything.

Chingiz's whole life, all his intentions and dreams were broken, smashed. Finding his mother, he lost his homeland. He was not weak, he could bear it, his military life taught him to endure every kind of hardship. He sighed deeply, wiped his tears, rose to his feet slowly and looked at the men in black:
– Can you …prove all this?

– Yes. We are searching for missing people. Your personal documents are kept at our office, including your birth certificate and your photos as a child. Your name is not Chingiz. Your name is Vardan. You were shown on television recently. Your mother saw that accidentally and then we found you. Your mother is a good woman. She had been waiting for you during all these years, but your father died during the war.

– Doesn't my mother know Azerbaijani at all?

– We wanted to talk to her. Apparently she knows it poorly.

On hearing these words, his mother whispered:
– I loves you, son. My. Own son. Love.

Chingiz did not know what to do. However, it seemed that the men in black had considered everything in advance:
– You cannot change anything any more. Take your mother and go to Baku if you want. Don't be afraid, no one will know anything. We will say nothing to Sabina.

УOn hearing this, Chingiz attacked them and knocked down the man standing in the middle with a single blow. However, the two others caught him and pinioned his arms. Chingiz could not move. The man in black lying on the ground spoke:
– Yees, Sabina. Your beloved Sabina. You were to have your wedding in a couple of days, weren't you? Do you really believe it? Do you think we will allow a decent Azerbaijani girl to go to bed with an Armenian? Do you think we will allow your foul mother to step on the Azerbaijani land?
Do you think we will allow you, foul Armenian, to live with us? You hate us. You hate all Turks. You hate all Azerbaijanis. You even hate Sabina.

Chingiz knelt down, crying:
– No, I love Sabina. I love Azerbaijan. I love my mother. I love you.

The man in black said quietly, looking into his eyes fixedly:
– How is it like to be Armenian, Chingiz? Has something changed within you? Are you Vardan or former Chingiz? We let you go and we will say nothing to Sabina. You can take your mother with you.
It all depends on your conscience. Sabina deserves a real Azerbaijani guy. But you are Armenian. By marrying her, you will defile the honor of one more Azerbaijani woman. You are a bad man. Do you hear? YOU ARE A BAD MAN!!!

Chingiz said in a low voice:
– But I have not done bad to anyone. I cannot be bad.

The men in black said while leaving:
– You are Armenian. You yourself have been saying that the Armenians are terrible...


1Story from the book "A" recommended for home reading to secondary school students
2Khojaly – a village in Nagorno-Karabakh whose residents were not evacuated during the war of 1991-1994, as a result of which they died on the approaches to Aghdam, while trying to escape. See the documentary "Khojaly. Between Hunger and Fire. Power at the Expense of Lives"
3Litter, garbage



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