The Safety of Being Unseen

My paternal grandfather Istepan survived 1915 in Tokat-Erbaa with the help of some young female relatives and neighbours. Disguised in girls’ clothing and with mud smeared on his face, he was saved thanks to the words “Don’t take that one, she’s ugly.” He became the only surviving member of his six-sibling family at the age of seven. My maternal grandfather Sarkis was born into a family of basket weavers and farmers in Sinop-Gerze. He grew up without learning Armenian, underlined with the importance of hiding his identity. When I asked him about his memories, he would at first hesitate, then recall the beauty of his village’s nature, and eventually recount uncomfortable stories.