Armenian Promise.

I am Armenian. And there is some kind of silent promise that each of us Armenians gives to the previous generation.
Nobody sits down and says to his son or daughter “don’t forget what happened in 1915” and no son or daughter asks “What happened?”. It’s a grief that is so ingrained in every Armenian heart that it is being passed, silently, from heart to heart.

My personal silent promise was not to forget what happened to my grandma and her seven sisters who crossed the desert (youngest being only 2), leaving their homes and lands, trying to escape the violent fate prescribed to them by the Ottomans just because they were Armenian and were believing in Christian faith.

I can guess that my great grandpa found it difficult to explain to his young daughters what was happening and why their language, ethnicity, and faith made them deserve to die.

Maybe it’s hard to believe in our modern times that people can be prosecuted for belonging to certain ethnic group or of being of Christian faith. Or can we? Is it any different to what happens in modern day Syria, Turkey, Iraq, Libya and the list can go on?
Maybe by recognising the violence of the past, we can prevent the violence that can happen in the future. What I know for sure is that we have definitely tried ‘not recognising’ part. Until then I will keep my promise. (24th of April 1915)