A dentist by profession, Dr. Armenag Yeghiayan was also an educator, linguist, literary scholar, and author of textbooks. My own formation in the Armenian language and literature began through the "Dziadzan" (Rainbow) textbooks he prepared. Before I came to know him personally, he was, for me, the little boy pictured on the cover of the "Dziadzan," trying to reach the seven balloons released into the sky. This changed the day my parents took me to his clinic, located in his family home in the "Cilicia" neighborhood. The image of the little boy was replaced by that of the "dentist with shelves full of books," for the volumes lining his clinic's waiting room made a greater impression on my childhood imagination than his own appearance.
One hot summer afternoon, my father asked me to bring back “one kilo of almonds,” (noush in Armenian). I was to try our local grocers first, but if I couldn't find any, I had permission to go to Nor Marash. My wish had finally been granted. That day, I gained the opportunity to cross the avenue that was otherwise off-limits to my nine-year-old self. I entered the first shop with enthusiasm. Noticing that no one was speaking Armenian, I simply said, “Baddi kilo noush” (one kilo of noush in Arabic), not realizing that “noush” was not an Arabic word.
Wasafiri approached this as one of the central themes of its issue. One of the most striking texts was the lead feature titled “Two Armenians Conversing in Two Armenians” by Tamar Marie Boyadjian and Hrach Martirosyan, translated into English by Maral Aktokmakyan. The conversation opens with an editorial note acknowledging the division of the Armenian language into two variants—close enough to be mutually intelligible, yet distant enough to create alienation. In this dialogue, Boyadjian and Martirosyan, each speaking one of the two variants, find common ground in their shared love for the language and its literary heritage.
It is noteworthy that the recorded presence of Armenians in Syria dates back to the 14th century, and by 1500, the prelacy was established in the vicinity of the Cathedral. In 1616, during his visit to Aleppo, Simon of Poland recounts the situation of this prelacy and the Armenian community, particularly noting the Armenian merchants. It is well-known from Armenian history that Armenians have always established educational centers alongside their monasteries and churches. Thus, a school was built next to the Cathedral, which became an important center for the arts and sciences.
Weeks ago, when the Israeli army ordered the people of the south via X (formerly Twitter) to leave their homes and 'relocate to safer places,' large numbers of refugees arrived in our areas. Zaven, a clothing vendor friend in Bourdj Hammoud, told me, 'Three women came to my shop, around 50–60 years old, dressed in black and wearing headscarves, asking if I needed workers; they’re looking for work. My heart shattered. I already don’t have work for myself; I couldn’t say anything to them.' Not long after, a woman stopped me in front of my house, asking, 'Do you know of any houses for rent?'
Born and raised in Beirut, I have navigated the complexities of my identity, especially in relation to my Armenian neighborhood, Bourdj Hamoud. In 1968, Kurkjian delved into this existential struggle of the Diaspora Armenian in his pivotal piece, "A Second Equation with Multiple Unknowns." He poses crucial questions about the nature of Armenian identity in the Diaspora.
Kavar, translated as "province," encapsulates more than just a locality outside the city; it embodies the homeland, nature, and the relationship between human beings and the land. Our exploration of Kavar Literature began with Hamasdegh, and the ideas that emerged during our discussions formed the foundation for our future initiatives. We not only delved into Kavar Literature but also broadened our investigation by drawing comparisons with world literature