“Artsakh: My Childhood Street”: 101 memories (and counting) of a lost home

These are the words of seven-year-old Argishti Mkrtchyan, forcibly displaced from Artsakh/Nagorno-Karabakh. His testimony is part of Artsakh: My Childhood Street | 101 Stories, a project giving voice to displaced children while striving to preserve the endangered dialect of Artsakh and cultural memory in the wake of the ethnic cleansing of its Armenian population. Supported by a research grant from the Armenian General Benevolent Union (AGBU), the project aims to “create content towards the preservation of the intangible heritage of Artsakh.” As AGBU executive director Marina Mkhitaryan notes, this initiative seeks to safeguard the vulnerable Artsakh dialect through the voices of Artsakh’s children. The event, held on February 19, in Yerevan, began with a minute of silence to honor the innocent children lost in the Artsakh wars, and all child victims of conflict worldwide. “This project is about the childhood of Artsakh’s children—a childhood left behind in Artsakh itself,” said Nelli Baghdasaryan, an associate professor from Artsakh State University and project co-author, at the website’s launch. When co-author Vahram Ter-Matevosyan suggested documenting the memories of elders or children, Baghdasaryan was more enthusiastic about the latter. “Children’s memories were overlaid with a thick layer of war and forced displacement. It was important to unearth the bright and luminous reality of Artsakh from beneath it,” Baghdasaryan said. The project documented and transcribed the stories of 101 children—a number that, according to the co-authors, signifies that there will be 102, 103 and beyond. To ensure the project's sustainability, they created a website providing unlimited opportunities to collect material, with the goal of not only preserving the dialect, but also forming a network for the children. For months, researchers, lawyers, dialectologists and translators collaborated, including dialectologist Liana Minasyan. It was crucial for them to adhere to international dialectal transcription methods while remaining as faithful as possible to the Artsakh dialect during the English translation. Through this project, children from Artsakh share stories of their childhoods: their streets, their longing, their dreams, their personal losses and their hope of returning. “Often, even amidst the most difficult circumstances, the children found glimpses of warmth and affection. For example, Tigran noted that during the blockade, children and adults were kinder to each other,” Baghdasaryan explained. Many children who lost their fathers during the wars were in denial about the reality of their loss. Narine Karapetyan, the project’s photographer and graphic designer, explained in an interview with the Weekly that the children themselves dictated the moment and location of their participation, making it a deeply personal process. According to her, this was a great responsibility, as it involved working with childhood psychology and the inner world. She says the children tried to bypass the bitterness of loss with both unchildlike melancholy and childlike simplicity, and faith in one day returning home. “Through their stories, we were transported to their childhood, and we found ourselves in our own childhoods, in our grandparents’ homes, in warm corners—as if it were the same scent—the same happy life that they left behind in Artsakh,” she recounts. Karapetyan added that the children's portraits were taken and visualized at Photo Atelier Marashlyan, a project partner. The children chose which photos would appear on the website, giving them a greater sense of freedom, Karapetyan explained. The project’s three main photographs were taken in Stepanakert during the blockade. It was important for the photographer to show the children’s joy and carefree nature, even under blockade, as they played in their own yards. Karapetyan is also the author of the project’s logo, which depicts swallows—themselves children—and their direction is not accidental: towards the east, towards Artsakh. Nina Hayrapetyan, a Caucasus scholar and journalist who transcribed the children’s interviews, documented the nuances of the Artsakh dialect and speech: “I thought I would simply be working with recordings, but it has a much deeper meaning. With each story, I remembered my own childhood, and in their voices, I heard myself—someone who has also lost their homeland.” Speaking at the event, she added, “There was an indescribable longing in these stories, but also an unimaginable brightness.” As the project Artsakh: My Childhood Street | 101 Stories comes to a close, it leaves behind a powerful message. Before the presentation began, the haunting melody of Charles Aznavour's “Children of War” filled the air—a choice that was not accidental. Aznavour dedicated this song to those whose childhoods have been marred by conflict, resonating deeply with the project’s core message. According to Baghdasaryan, the project carries an important message for adults: that childhood, anywhere in the world, must be protected.

“Artsakh: My Childhood Street”: 101 memories (and counting) of a lost home

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Siranush Sargsyan

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This story is FREE for you...

Siranush Sargsyan

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