Musical Stars to Perform at Centennial Concert in DC

Dear Levon Chilingarian,

Did your grandfather, Levon Chilingarian of Constantinople, have a brother named Krikor? The following excerpt is from my father’s diaries of 1915 to 1922 written during the Armenian Genocide. It is an actual account of just one conversation with a little girl named Anoush Chilingarian who escaped. Shiukri was the chief of police of Palu. My father, Misak Seferian, was servant to him for over a year. Anoush survived. I have quite a bit of information about her. Please contact me through this newspaper if you think she may be related to your family. Here is the excerpt.

In the evening, after finishing my tasks, I took the girl by her hand and we left together. I spoke to her in Turkish, but she did not reply. After we left the city, I looked carefully around us and then asked in Armenian, “Nice girl, do you not have a tongue?”
Shaken, the girl stood still and looked at me unbelieving.
“Of course I have a tongue,” she said, as tears spilled down her face.
“Don’t cry my little sister,” I said, and taking her by the hand again, we continued on our way.
When she had calmed a little, I asked, “Where are you from? What is your name?”
“I am from Kghi. My name is Anoush. My father’s name is Krikor, and our family name is Chilingarian,”
“Anoush, do you have any relatives here?”
“Shiukri Effendi brought my cousin with me, but she ran away. I don’t know where she is. The wife of my father’s brother is at Zovia. A Turk took my brother to the summerhouses. He is also my age. We were born together.” She then asked, “Is the hanum a good woman? Do you think that she will keep me?”
“She is a very good woman. She is the daughter of a Kizilbash Kurd and likes Armenians as much as if she were one herself.”
“But I don’t know a word of Turkish, and I don’t understand it. What will become of me?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve already taught the hanum a lot of Armenian. I’ll teach her a few more words. I think that will be enough until you learn Turkish,” I said, and we both laughed.
When we arrived at the summerhouse, the hanum greeted Anoush with affection. After serving her food and helping her to bathe, she brought her under the tree where the hanum’s mother and I were picking mulberries. Anoush became a good helper to the hanum. “Anoush, bring a plate. Girl, light the fire,” the hanum would say. Anoush learned to speak Turkish, but unfortunately, she forgot her Armenian in a very short time.