Sometimes, an image, a sentence, a phrase or a day full of interesting developments may offer you new perspectives, outlooks or profound insights that you could not have obtained from many volumes of books.
During such times you say “Aha!” Thanks to many “aha” moments that I’ve experienced in the past, I believe I have managed to make sense of the Armenian issue to a certain extent. My first “aha” moment came in London in 1998, when I met the Armenian diaspora for the first time in my life.
My friend Onnik had invited me to an Armenian genocide conference. As we were waiting for Onnik’s girlfriend in front of the Holborn station, an old man approached us, whispering, “They say the bloody Turks have placed a bomb in the conference hall,” and went away. Onnik felt the need to explain: “Don’t take him seriously, Orhan. He is a freak and of unsound mind.” There and then, I realized that 1915 was an idée fixe even in the minds of insane Armenians in the diaspora.
“What would he do if he knew I was a Turk?” I thought to myself. Soon I received the answer to this question. When Onnik introduced me to his friends as “my Turkish friend,” they involuntarily gave out cries which I will never forget. “I have met a Turk once,” said one of the women in a desperate effort to relieve me, unaware that she was referring to “Turks” as though we were aliens from outer space.
Later at the conference, when a British academic said, “Turks are actually good people, but they have somehow erased 1915 from their minds,” a spectator jumped to his feet yelling: “What are you talking about? Turks are not even human beings!” The ensuing developments were very interesting. The older members of the community raised strong objections to the young man. “Our only concern is the recognition of the genocide. However, your words, which dehumanize Turks, will only provide an invitation for another genocide,” said one of them. I took a huge sigh of relief and said a silent “bravo” to the old man.
The rest of the day was like a film. After the conference, we went to a pub together with a group of Onnik’s friends. Among the crowd were two young people talking to each other in perfect Turkish. When I introduced myself to them, they seemed to grow pale and attempted to offer me an explanation. They were Armenians from İstanbul who were studying in London. They had “accidentally” attended this conference. It took quite a long time to relieve their fears and make them believe that I was not a Turkish state official, but a lawyer and a human rights advocate.
As I was chatting with them, an elderly Armenian who also spoke perfect Turkish approached us. This man had left Turkey at an early age but would read a few Turkish newspapers every day. He would translate from Ottoman, Turkish and Armenian into English. His last wish was to find the Ottoman originals of the memoirs of Talat Pasha and render them into English. We were in the heart of Europe and I was among those who were clinging on to their childhood memories and to the pale images that they had of Turkey. It was a very weird feeling. We in Turkey were not aware of their presence, but they were talking about us every day with a strong obsession with the past.
Then, I went to a Lebanese restaurant with Onnik, who is an American Armenian, a Turkish Armenian young man and a Greek Cypriot Armenian. As a group with common roots in Turkey, we had a very warm chat. Memories and jokes came one after another. We sat at the table as four foreigners but left with the feeling that we knew each other from childhood. It was as if our parents had divorced years ago and had told us that our brothers were our enemies. But now for the first time we were getting to know each other directly and as normal human beings. We were so alike. On our way out our Greek Armenian friend lost his footing as he was walking down the narrow stairs of the restaurant and he inadvertently slipped out a Turkish swear word. “We say exactly the same in Turkey when we stumble on something,” I said. Our laughter melted away in the misty weather of London. This was my experience of meeting the Armenian diaspora for the first time in my life.
By ORHAN KEMAL CENGİZ
The article was initially published on Today’s Zaman.
