Iraqahyes and Assyrians: The Fertile Crescent’s greatest kinship
Never once did I piece together the convergence of lahmajun and kleicha in my life. I’ve always understood myself to be an Iraqi-American, the proud daughter of two Iraqi immigrants. I grew up with delicacies I labeled “Iraqi,” without understanding the nuances behind this characterization.
Lahmajun, an Armenian dish I’ve loved since childhood, draws from my mother’s Iraqahye (Iraqi-Armenian) heritage, while Assyrian kleicha connects to my father’s Assyrian roots. Armenian and Assyrian, I am woven together by Iraqi commonality. Little did I know that my background would reveal something much greater about cultural truths — a nod to the deep bond between two ancient peoples.
Despite speaking different languages and belonging to predominantly different churches, Armenians and Assyrians connect in more ways than one. Perhaps the most obvious is shared suffering and persecution: the 1915 Armenian and Assyrian Genocide are etched into the hearts of my two identities. With approximately 1.5 million Armenians and 750,000 Assyrians massacred, this tragedy sparked mass migration, forming much of the modern Armenian and Assyrian diasporas.
Countless Armenians were forcefully driven from their homeland, many finding refuge in Iraq as survivors. While many Assyrians are indigenous to modern-day Iraq, they too were displaced, often relocating to other villages and regions within the country. Between 1918 and 1919, nearly 50,000 Assyrians from Urmia, Salmas and Van were forced to move to Baghdad. My paternal grandmother, an Urmijneta (Assyrian for a female Urmia native), adopted Iraqi culture, having raised her family in Baghdad, yet retained her Urmian dialect while speaking Assyrian. Likewise, my mother’s Armenian family incorporated Armenian words into their Arabic speech, reflecting their Iraqahye identity.
From a Western lens, Iraq’s rich ethnic diversity is rarely represented to the fullest degree. Beyond IIraqahyes and Assyrians, communities such as Yezidis, Kurds, Roma and Mandaean Sabians call Iraq home.
As such, belonging to an Iraqi family carries layers of meaning beyond national identity. Concepts as devastating and life-altering as forced migration and assimilation are manifested in the ways I interact with my identity daily.
Although both are Iraqi, my mother and father speak very different Arabic dialects, shaped largely by the cultural influences inherited from their ancestors’ hardships. For every difference I pinpoint, I also find commonalities that illustrate the deep Armenian-Assyrian connection among Iraqis. My Assyrian grandmother spoke both Assyrian and Armenian, conversing freely with Iraqahye friends she’d invite over for chai. Likewise, my Armenian grandmother befriended countless Assyrian Christians, including Chaldeans, who lived nearby.
Similarities don’t merely exist among Armenians and Assyrians in Iraq; these two ancient groups share a unique harmony born of affliction. From the interactions I’ve seen between my two ethnic identities,
an innate warmth is reciprocated whenever Armenians and Assyrians connect. After all, in a world that has shunned their very existences, it is only natural to cling to similitude.
The nucleus of my paternal and maternal ancestries lies between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. While I don’t speak Armenian or Assyrian, the Arabic I’ve learned over the years is entangled with the cultures I belong to. Seeing the thriving relationship of Iraqahyes and Assyrians impels me to embrace my two halves equally and lovingly.
In my parents’ native city of Baghdad, both Sourp Asdvadzadzin and Virgin Mary Church of the Assyrian Church of the East represent their two communities in Iraq’s capital. For as long as these expressions of cultural affinity stand, I hope to see the continued friendship of Iraqahyes and Assyrians.
Lahmajun and kleicha still converge in my life, drawing nearer on Christmas, at family gatherings and through recipes discovered on Instagram and YouTube. Now, I recognize the honor that lies in celebrating my identities unflinchingly: I have the privilege of embracing my cultures. While history has repeatedly tried to subordinate Armenians and Assyrians, I hold the power to preserve what persecution sought to terminate.
Ancient ties, kindled out of sheer agony, do not have to remain tainted with pain. Find the crossroads of your identities and champion them, shining brightly so bygone stories never wane.
Very great ready, Khathi. Keep building nationalism for Assyrians because we really have to survive like everyone else. We also deserve to survive like everyone else.
Armenians, Assyrians, Jews, Persians, Kurds and Mandeans are the only ancient nations left who have survived to this day in West Asia, out of the many dozen ancient nations in this region who have become extinct and are relegated to history books and archeological remains. Mandeans, Assyrians and Kurds have been even more unfortunate than Armenians, that they have no independent state of their own and were and the latter two still are persecuted by the Turks (the only ethnic group not native to this region and who arrived only in the 11th century). Due to their much smaller numbers, Assyrians and Mandeans have suffered even more to this day and have been almost ethnically cleansed from their homelands and dispersed across Europe and North America. Armenians are lucky to have an independent state of their own, no matter how truncated it is; and this precious homeland should never be taken for granted in this problematic region, because this nation-state has been in survival mode for most of its very long history and even more so today, because these two hostile predatory Turkic countries, have never ceased to try to harm it and to subjugate it again.