[Congressional Record Volume 140, Number 127 (Tuesday, September 13, 1994)]
[Senate]
[Page S]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Printing Office [www.gpo.gov]


[Congressional Record: September 13, 1994]
From the Congressional Record Online via GPO Access [wais.access.gpo.gov]

 
        ``THE ARMENIANS IN ETHIOPIA: A COMMUNITY OF SURVIVORS''

 Mr. SIMON. Mr. President, one of the ethnic groups that is not 
a large group in our country but contributes in a significant way are 
the Armenians.
  Like the Jews, they have been a persecuted people over the years and 
experienced their own holocaust almost 80 years ago.
  Also, like the Jews, they are a scattered people. And recently in the 
magazine published by the Armenian General Benevolent Union, I read an 
article about the Armenians of Ethiopia. Because it presents an insight 
into how a small group survives in another country and in another 
culture, I thought it might be of interest to my colleagues, and I ask 
to insert it into the Record at this point.

                       The Armenians of Ethiopia

                           (By David Zenian)

       Addis Ababa.--A Boeing 757 passenger jet has more seats 
     than the number of Armenians living in Ethiopia, but there is 
     more to what a community means than simple arithmetic.
       From a high 1,200 to a low of less than 150, the Armenian 
     community today functions despite the drastic loss of 
     manpower. It's school is open, and so is the Armenian church 
     and club.
       A handful of activists are keeping the community 
     infrastructures alive in Ethiopia. Prominent businessman 
     Vahag Karibian is busy revitalizing the AGBU which has 
     already financed the purchase of new furniture for the 
     Armenian community school. Others like Arakel Sakadjian are 
     involved with the academic well-being of the school and 
     various aspects of community life.
       ``It's all a matter of faith in why you need to preserve 
     your culture and heritage. There is nothing old fashioned 
     about this,'' Archdeacon Vartkes Nalbandian said in a recent 
     interview.
       Once a community of influential traders, factory owners and 
     goldsmiths, the Armenians of Ethiopia are gradually 
     resembling a lost tribe, effectively isolated from fellow 
     Armenians not only in such nearby African countries as Egypt 
     and Sudan, but also the rest of the Diaspora and even 
     Armenia.
       ``We have no newspapers and no organized communication with 
     other Armenian communities. Most of us do not know what is 
     happening in Armenia, and the very little we hear is from the 
     Armenian broadcasts of Voice of America.
       ``We are like a lost tribe which has survived hundreds of 
     years simply by faith and a lot of hard work . . . but the 
     question is for how much longer?'' community elder Avedis 
     Terzian said.
       ``You might find this strange coming from a 90-year-old 
     Armenian born in Ethiopia, but with the wave of emigration 
     the New Armenians are the Armenians of the United States, 
     France, Canada, Australia and other western nations where 
     people have a chance to develop into a new breed of Diaspora 
     Armenians,'' Terzian said.
       Hundreds of Ethiopian-born Armenians have already settled 
     in California and Canada, but for those who have chosen to 
     stay ``in the land of our grandfathers'', the battle of 
     survival continues.
       And given the size of the community, the battle sometimes 
     resembles a full-fledged war.
       Take the Armenian Kevorkoff Community School. Opened in 
     1935, the K-to-elementary school today has about 100 students 
     of which only 11 are Armenians--including six children of 
     mixed parents.
       ``Our annual budget is 12,000 dollars, and if we were to 
     keep non-Armenians out of the school, we should have closed 
     and gone home a long time ago,'' says school principal Emma 
     Gueverian.
       ``Our kids need an Armenian education, and we can sustain 
     that by accepting people from outside the community,'' she 
     says. The school's weekly schedule includes ample hours of 
     instruction in the Armenian language, history, geography and 
     religion.
       Today, the school has a multi-national student body--
     including the children of several Egyptian embassy diplomats 
     who prefer the Armenian community school over other private 
     institutions because of ``the clean family atmosphere at 
     Kevorkoff.''
       For the academic year ending June, 1994, three Armenian 
     children will graduate from the Armenian elementary school 
     and will, like others before them, hopefully make their way 
     to the Melkonian Educational Institute of the Armenian 
     General Benevolent Union in Nicosia, Cyprus.
       But the number of graduates will drop in the coming years 
     if the demographic structure of the community does not 
     improve with new births and less deaths.
       According to available figures, two Armenian youngsters 
     will graduate from Kevorkoff in 1995, but none in 1996 and 
     1997, and only one in 1998, two in the year 1999 and up to 
     three again in the year 2000. Not an encouraging picture, as 
     Archdeacon Vartkes Nalbandian sees it.
       The community today consists of about half a dozen under 12 
     years old, five over 12 years old, 10 between the ages of 20-
     25, some in their mid-40's and a majority of 60 to 80 year 
     olds.
       According to church records for the period 1979-1994, there 
     have been nine Armenian weddings in Addis Ababa, 37 births 
     and 55 deaths.
       ``This community is not growing in numbers. We are facing a 
     very difficult future,'' says the electromechanical engineer 
     turned Archdeacon.
       The St. Kevork Armenian Church, built in 1934, lost its 
     last ``real'' clergyman in 1980, leaving the parish in limbo.
       ``The Armenian and Ethiopian Orthodox churches are very 
     close, but this community was not ready to get a clergyman 
     from a non-Armenian church to bury its dead or baptize its 
     children,'' Nalbandian said.
       ``For a while after the last priest left we used a tape 
     recording of Holy Badarak as the centerpiece of our Sunday 
     service. Imagine a handful of people sitting in church 
     listening to the Devine Liturgy on tape,'' he said.
       ``This was not adequate, and as an ordained Archdeacon, I 
     somehow took over. Now, for the past 14 years, I am a 
     chemical engineer during the week and a man of the frock on 
     Sundays.
       ``I do the occasional baptisms and a lot of funerals--and 
     weddings if I am sure of the background of the couples 
     involved. I also do the Holy Badarak every Sunday of the 
     year--without any exceptions,'' the forty something 
     Nalbandian said after a recent Sunday service at which his 
     wife led the choir and his teenage son played the electronic 
     organ.
       ``The last wedding was in 1990, and it involved a couple 
     from Canada who wanted to get married in their place of birth 
     for sentimental reasons,'' he said.
       While the Armenian school and Church keep the community 
     together, the Armenian Club helps cover the costs of 
     maintaining the much-needed infrastructure.
       And it does that with style.
       The ``Ararat'' Armenian Community Club has in recent years 
     been widely recognized as the ``place to be'' for Addis 
     Ababa's diplomatic corps and visiting businessmen.
       The Club's restaurant, also called Ararat, is ``by 
     reservation only'' and foreign diplomats and others gladly 
     pay annual membership fees to join.
       ``This is one of the few places you can eat in Addis Ababa. 
     It serves authentic Armenian food, and it is home cooking at 
     its best,'' a Swiss diplomat commented recently.
       A good income generating enterprise, the Ararat Club and 
     restaurant pay for the facility to stay open, and produce 
     enough cash to help the Armenian school and church balance 
     their budget.
       ``With such a small community, we have learned to 
     improvise. The old rich Armenians left many years ago, and 
     now we have to take care of ourselves without a single cent 
     of financial aid from outside. It is not easy, but we do 
     it,'' Nalbandian said.

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