On november 9, 2020 the war was stopped...a ceasefire was imposed after 44 days of intense fighting.
Two days after the chaos that followed I posted this on facebook before deactivating my account:
Day 40 of war
The war is going on for 40 days now, together with Covid, hand in hand, killing us in different ways, each day.
Hospitals are full to capacity and there is a waiting list for 640 patients…640 more beds needed to save people who are seriously ill due to the virus. We are getting 2000-2500 cases of infection and an average of 30-35 deaths per day.
I stopped counting the killed soldiers, someone said they are not numbers and I agree.
We have been resisting for 40 days…some on the frontline, some in the bombarded cities, some in shelters, some on the streets, some on hospital beds, some in front of foreign embassies, some in diasporan communities, some behind the computer, some with humanitarian work. We are ALL resisting.
History is repeating itself over and over. Numbers are symbolic.
Our 40 days of Musa Dagh ended today, but the war continues and no rescue on sight, except ourselves.
On the 40th day, traditionally, families revisit the graves of their deceased … 40 days passed since the first group of young soldiers and civilians were killed in this war…it is already time to revisit their graves. We are still in continuous collective mourning, mostly on the denial and anger stage, it will take us a long time to accept these losses.
Women usually take off their black dresses after the 40th day…not in South Caucasus, black dresses stay for months, years, a whole lifetime for some. Another endless war, another generation of women in black, raising kids to whom they have no more strength to explain things. Kids playing in shelters, sad but smiling, drawing beautiful pictures to help ease the pain of their grieving parents.
More than 80 000 people were displaced in this war, mostly women, children and elderly.
Stepanakert and Shushi are under constant shelling for days, for more than a month. The hospitals have been targeted. The one in Stepanakert was hit while doctors were treating people. Associated Press was there and filmed the panic inside, doctors and patients running downstairs, the horrible sounds, the cries, the fear…but, still no action taken, kind and sorry words, but no action…people react for a while, then naturally the shock fades away until the next one, until things become normal, until the war becomes normal. Does it ever? Yes, it does, unfortunately…war was normal in my childhood. It was normal to play "soldiers and enemies" outside with our neighborhood kids, in Lebanon. Then, there was that large cemetery in Biqfaya, near my grandmother’s summer house where we used to stay when the bombings escalated in the capital. That cemetery was a revelation, it became for many of us, an educational playground. During some days, the combat would be so intense that one funeral after the other would take place in that large mysteriously majestic cemetery. I remember how we used to sneak inside, a group of 10-12-year-olds. We would wait for the gathered mourners to leave the site and then slowly approach the graves, touch the fresh earth, observe the photos of the deceased, smell the flowers, while scaring each other with horrible stories of mutilated corpses and blown up bodies constantly seen on the evening news.
War has a strange way of sneaking into our mind, transforming our being and inner self, destroying, awakening, rearranging many elements inside our heads. What remains afterward is what we have to deal with for the rest of our life.
International humanitarian workers on a short visit in Yerevan this week were stunned that Armenia was handling so well the displaced population situation with almost no external aid. They have rarely seen so much mobilization in any country during conflict. They are so amazed of people here and in the diaspora uniting their efforts to ensure that those affected by the war are treated in dignity and in a timely manner. No one is left out, no one is without food or shelter. Local clinics are welcoming the Artsakhtsis for free consultations and help with covid cases. Schools are open to all newly arriving students even without papers. Yes, we are a humane society. Yes, this is how it should be in a caring democratic country. No matter how much hate we experienced, how much repressions, corrupt leaders, wars, indifference, genocide and exile, we kept our humanity as a society, our sense of solidarity for each other. Despite our differences we are there for each other in times of crisis. After this war, we need to learn to be there for each other in times of peace as well.
For the 5th week already, our women’s center, like many other local initiatives, is continuing to provide aid packages for women and families. Half of our staff has been infected by Covid last week and while they are trying to recuperate at home, the other half is working overtime to ensure that help continues.
I am trying not to spend much time on thinking about the adequate reactions (or the lack of it) of the international community or human rights organisations. I started to get used to the idea that this fight will be a lonely one for us as a country, and I don’t mean only on the battlefields.
I am repeating to myself every morning that things are going to be ok soon, that we will be able to survive this.
War trauma
PTSD
Children having nightmares
Some wetting their beds again at night
empty seats in University classrooms
Mothers crying for lost ones, absent for the ones alive
Wounded people
Shattered families
Devastated parents
We will survive this
We are not alone, we have each other
No one will be left behind…
No matter the outcome, we will find a way.
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