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Literature (prose and poetry)
Reflections on genocide
By Vahid Gazi
My 10-year-old son made a "cruise missile" from paper and glass and gifted it to me for February 23, the so-called "men's day." The Azerbaijani flag was depicted on the missile and the drawn stairs leading to the missile demonstrated its huge size. The missile bore a resemblance to SS-20 long-range Soviet missiles. One could place into it trash made of uranium and it would be called an atomic bomb.
Although I accepted the gift, I told my son that February 23 marks the formation of an army which is strange and hostile to us, it destroyed our independence in 1920. Then, in the course of 70 years, it held us in captivity, perpetrated the black January of 1990, and helped the Armenians in seizing and occupying Karabakh. I demanded to express a protest on my behalf to his school teacher over that "naphthalene holiday."
Then I asked my son why he had gifted me a missile. I present the short dialogue we had:
– Why did you gift me a missile and not something else?
– Don't you like it?
– I like it. I just wonder why.
– If you had a real missile, would you drop it on Armenia?
– Why??
– I would do so
– Do you know how many villages and towns will be destroyed?
– What the hell! Why did they destroy Aghdam? Do you remember that you brought a cassette, the grandma was still alive, she cried when she watched it.
– But lots of people will be killed if you drop that missile on Armenia. Mothers, fathers, grandfathers, grandmothers, children, grandchildren...
– Let them die! Was it good when they killed everyone in Khojaly?
It was not I who had taught him these words. I could not say such a thing to a 10-year-old child. Home, street, school, radio, television.
– Those who committed it are criminals, murderers, do you want to be a murderer, a criminal killing children, mothers and fathers?
After pronouncing the word "murderer," I understood that I had used a vile word, and I was ready to swallow it back. He understood the terrible meaning of the word by the expression on my face rather than realized its meaning. My son became thoughtful and did not respond to my question. However, a more dangerous question emerged for me, "Do I bring up a murderer in my home?
I woke up from my thoughts and came back to my son. I did not know what he was thinking about, and I did not ask him. I took the gift and put it in a visible place, on a bookshelf, hopeful that as a TALISMAN, it will keep us from the disease of hatred...
But will it keep?...
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