A friend of mine describes many non-Western cultures as being “sticky.” Sticky people don’t recognize arbitrary boundaries of personal space. They assume carte blanche to invade, intrude, and otherwise insert themselves into any given situation, whether with family or a perfect stranger, and everyone expects it. No matter how you slice the world—East and West, or North and South—this illustrates a profound difference in how people interact.
Armenians are a sticky people. Those I know and love, and even those I don’t, will not silently watch a child misbehave, even if it’s someone else’s child. They will never stop commenting on other people’s decisions or asking all-too-personal questions. They wouldn’t even let me go very long with a bad haircut.
I can thank them for helping me develop a thick skin. It used to offend me (more) when people offered frank advice that implied—nay, asserted—that I was somehow falling short. Now, I filter most comments through the sticky concept lens.
There is my salon favorite: “Haven’t you ever considered waxing your eyebrows?” There was the seamstress who remarked while measuring my waist, “Nihar es yerevum, bayc ahagin tumblik es” (You look thin, but you’re actually kind of chubby). And then there is the running commentary from day to day on whether one looks fatter or skinnier, uglier or prettier, tired or rested.
No doubt, people are truly concerned about each other’s wellbeing. I’ll never forget the panic in one man’s eyes when I sat on a pile of cold stones. He ran to my side and grabbed my arm to pull me off the pile, saying that it would hurt my “organism” and I wouldn’t be able to have children. Of course, if you have children, you will be on the receiving end of all kinds of unsolicited parenting advice. And there is not enough space in this column to describe the never-ending rebukes for not having children at all.
It is as though sticky people are saying, “Hey, we’re trying to do something here and we need you to conform to the project. If you’re going to do something different, then you had better seek approval from us first.” Or maybe they’re saying, “We care about you, we want you to be the best that you can be, and we can tell you how.” Maybe they’re saying both.
Shortly after arriving in Armenia in 1997, someone I knew from the U.S. remarked about how frustrating he found it that Armenians obsessed about their physical appearance even to walk to the village store, while in their homes the toilets didn’t flush properly. Over time, I came to appreciate that pride. Appearance, after all, is one of the few things a person has some control over when everything else is in a perpetual state of transition. I suppose that’s part of the reason there is a salon on nearly every block of central Yerevan.
Most of the time, Armenians appear just as willing to turn a critical eye on themselves. They regularly berate themselves for taking too much pride in their history and not spending enough time working to make the country better today. They bemoan the decline of the quality of the education system. They argue that absolutely everyone is engaged in some level of corruption and that it will lead to the demise of the nation. And they reminisce about how people used to help one another, but now think only of themselves.
Knowing that there is this culture of inward and external critique, I have always been surprised by what Armenians turn a blind eye to. The classiest camping trip I’ve been part of was with a group of friends in Armenia. Near Garni, we spread a tablecloth on the ground, placed proper dish settings for some 15 people, and put out food and drink fit for a Cilician king. En route to Yerevan after the outing, we passed trash-filled ditches, but no one said a word about it. I asked myself, and my companions, how could this exist in the same country as gourmet camping?
It actually angered me when I went to the ski resort one winter and saw that the outhouse door hadn’t been closed properly before a recent storm. A simple bent nail could have kept the door shut. Instead, the wind had blown snow inside, and people had defecated on top of the snow and ice-covered squat toilet. When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go, I guess, but I couldn’t believe that the same people who dressed in their finest to have coffee with their neighbors, and who all but lit candles for a camping picnic, would be able to accept this.
A friend once explained what he believes are the roots of this inconsistency. He said that during the Soviet Union, your home began at the front door, and nothing else was your responsibility. There was no understanding that your home might also be your building, your neighborhood, your city, and your country. The explanation holds water, but then what?
Well, obviously the sticky culture has rubbed off on me since I sit here and freely offer my insights when no one in particular has asked for them. Go figure.
Kristi Rendahl
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Well done, Kristi. Here’s more unsolicited advice. I’ve found that saying “kezi inch?” (what’s it to you?) or “Abourin mech maz mi pndrer” (Don’t go looking for hairs in the soup) sticks it to the sticky without resorting to sticks & stones…
Can’t argue with that Kristi jan…:)
Gayane
While I’m used to shrugging off unwanted advice, the trash situation bothers me a lot. It is not strictly an Armenian problem, since many middle eastern countries have similar issues. It is mind boggling to see a world heritage site visited by thousands of international tourists daily, and not to find a single garbage can! Of course trash will be spread out everywhere. In general, proper waste management & environment-friendly policies are a luxury these countries cannot afford. In soviet times, common spaces belonged to the people, & school kids were invited to participate to annual cleanup activities. Mind you, back then they didn’t own much to be able to generate garbage in the first place…
Delightful! This reminds me of an article by Jon Hughes, commenting on Armenian logic. He commented how they were installing water meters in houses, when they couldn’t count on running water, and how they had commemorative stamps, but no functioning post office.
For Me Stickiness Means Honesty
I don’t mind any one asks me any question
I’m ready to answer
Without calling thee sticky…
We are sticky
Because we aren’t selfish
Selfish people
Are None-Sticky
They say…It is not my business
We are sticky because
We see something wrong
And we want to help…
Don’t call us sticky
But call us conscious
We are Unselfish Honest
We want everyone to be happy
As we are are
We are never jealous
When I see a child beaten
If I tell the mother,
“Don’t hit your child but explain”
Am I sticky…or honest???
Dear Mr. Manoukian:
Today, mainly because water-meters were installed about 10 years ago, we get “permanent” water in our house on top of the mountain. Most Armenian city dwellers now have access to 24 hour/day drinking water, as opposed to an-hour-a-day in 2002.
Three weeks ago I sent (from Yeghegnadzor’s post-office) a registered letter to a lawyer in Yerevan with a request for a signed receipt. I received the signed receipt two days later, and it only cost me less than a dollar. I wonder where in the US or Canada we could count on such a service!
In May, new garbage cans were installed in the downtown streets of Yeghegnadzor. It was a project initiated by Yeghegnadzor’s youth Bank. The improvement in the overall cleanliness of our city is noticeable.
50 years ago, you couldn’t walk bear-foot on Italy’s beaches, from fear of broken bottles…
Thank you Kristi for an excellent and thought-provoking article, again.
Thanks for the thoughtful comments, folks. Boghos – great tips. I haven’t said kezi inch in a long time; it feels so abrupt, but can be really effective. Aline – the trash can be bothersome though, as Antoine points out, it’s definitely improving. And you’re quite right that Armenia isn’t the only country that struggles to address it.
Sylva – I’m sorry that you don’t like the term “sticky.” The term (coined by a friend from a different “sticky” culture) is intended to illustrate the differences between the way people interact. There are plenty of aspects of “sticky” culture that I wish were more a part of my own somewhat “detached” culture!
“Kezi inch” can also be heard when discussion how some third party, who is not present at that moment, transgressed and meddled into someone else’s business. The discussor would end their complaint with a “kezi inch!”. At least that’s how my mom talks :)
I also looked up “none of your business” on http://translate.google.com/ and it came back with ոչ մեկը Ձեր բիզնեսի (Voch mege cher biznesi). Is there no Armenian equivalent to “biznezi” here? My Armenian is failing me at the moment.
Random Armenian – The word you’re looking for (at least in Eastern Armenian) is “gorts.” So you could say, “Qo gorts chi” or “Qo inch gorts e?”
Ah. I assumed it would be another word and not a more direct translation of “business”. Thanks.
rich irony ! an Armenian (I am guessing Random is Armenian from his handle) getting Armenian language clarification from a native North Dakotan.
Beautiful.
Yes I’m Armenian and speak Armenian at home. I’m rather embarrassed by this but quite bemused at the same time. I think it’s great :)
“Kazi ench…Is this phrase used in every Armenian Home and why not…!”
It is very natural to say,
Where ever you live you get affected by that atmosphere.
Arab proverb says,
“If you live 40 days with a group of people, you become like them”
[Eda ashart alnasa arbaeen yowman sert methlahoom]
Armenians have many cultures
Affected by their new grounds
Where they immigrated and settled
So there is nothing pure
To be generalized on each Armenian…
Tongues affected
Real iraqi Armenians
Where they settled in Baghdad before the genocide
They use Arabic words…the conjugation only sounds Armenian
No one can understand them accept that community…
Even those who arrived after…from Anatolia…
Very well known phrase used by them:
” Aberezenic shate balamov” which means,
We passed the river by gondola
Abara: in Arabic language means…passed
Shat: the river
Balam:gondola
Thus to say,
Our culture…our songs…our music…our tongues affected
By the surrounding atmosphere
Added to them…different classes of education
Different upbringing at home
And those are natural every where
But…and to add more,
I never heard “Kezi inch” in my home
To me…it sounds very rude lexicon…!
Sylva
why be embarrassed ? Kristi lives in Armenia and has a far better understanding of the Armenian psyche, customs, local idioms than many of us living here in the Diaspora: some of her insights into Armenians are quite astonishing.
And I agree: it is great – we’re lucky to have someone like Kristi amongst us.
Avery,
I should have known the answer to my question. I grew up with Armenian in the household.
Kristi is spot on in her observations in her articles and is definitely in tune with the Armenian way of thinking :)
Sylva,
Yes “kezi inch” is a rather strong expression. It’s an expression of last resort.
Thanks, Random and Avery. I also think that “kezi inch” sounds harsh, and have only heard it when people need to make a strong point when someone has crossed a line. That line, of course, is different for everyone.
I love to use Kez Inch when someone is being VERY NOSY that he or she should not be…:) and sometimes it is that annoying girlfriend of a girlfriend or someone who can’t stand at work who is always in your business..:)
but I agree it is a bit harsh but it is what it is..:)
Kristi, love you dearly..:)
Gayane
@Random Armenian just a correction if I may… ոչ մեկը Ձեր բիզնեսի , transliterated is Voch mege dzer biznesi). Just wanted to point out that the letter is Ձ (dzer), and not Չ (cher)
Here’s the downside…..we don’t even realize we’re doing it, being “sticky.” Oh well, we are who we are, and God bless the “sticky” people. Hye enk, che!