[Congressional Record Volume 156, Number 113 (Thursday, July 29, 2010)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E1480-E1481]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




            NAZARETH DER TAVITIAN: A GENOCIDE SURVIVOR STORY

                                 ______
                                 

                          HON. ADAM B. SCHIFF

                             of california

                    in the house of representatives

                        Thursday, July 29, 2010

  Mr. SCHIFF. Madam Speaker, I rise today to memorialize and record a 
courageous story of survival of the Armenian Genocide. The Armenian 
Genocide, perpetrated by the Ottoman Empire from 1915 to 1923, resulted 
in the death of 1.5 million Armenian men, women, and children. As the 
U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire Henry Morgenthau documented at 
the time, it was a campaign of ``race extermination.''
  The campaign to annihilate the Armenian people failed, as illustrated 
by the proud Armenian nation and prosperous diaspora. It is difficult 
if not impossible to find an Armenian

[[Page E1481]]

family not touched by the genocide, and while there are some survivors 
still with us, it is imperative that we record their stories. Through 
the Armenian Genocide Congressional Record Project, I hope to document 
the harrowing stories of the survivors in an effort to preserve their 
accounts and to help educate the Members of Congress now and in the 
future of the necessity of recognizing the Armenian Genocide.
  This is one of those stories:

                        (By Sarkis DerTavitian)

       My grandfather Nazareth Der Tavitian was born in Malatya, 
     Turkey. His family consisted of his wife, three sons and two 
     daughters. The eldest child, my aunt was born in 1900. My 
     father followed as the eldest son; he was born in 1903. Next 
     in line was the youngest of the daughters and she was born in 
     1907, followed by my uncle Kevork in 1910. The youngest son, 
     Hampartsoum was born in 1913.
       My grandfather was a successful merchant in Malatya, 
     Turkey. His wealth included large tobacco and opium fields, 
     as well as the export of various goods such as leather, and 
     dried fruits to Europe and America. He often traveled to 
     Aleppo and Istanbul in order to conduct his business. At the 
     brink of WWI in 1914, a Turkish friend of my grandfather 
     informed him that the situation vas not looking good for 
     Turkish-Armenians, he advised that he, along with his eldest 
     son--my father make a temporary move to Istanbul, in hopes 
     that the move would keep them safe until the situation had 
     calmed within the provinces. My grandfather, uncomfortable 
     with the idea of leaving the rest of the family during 
     precarious times, conveyed these worries to a dear friend, 
     who at the time was the military general of Malatya. The 
     general assured him that as long as he remained in his 
     position, no Turkish citizen or official could bring harm to 
     him or his family. As the war progressed and the Young Turks 
     solidified their power they ordered the replacement of all 
     leading generals in the provinces, including Malatya--the aim 
     being to break the power of the provisional leaders. My 
     grandfather's dear friend was soon replaced. The alteration 
     of leadership happened abruptly, therefore the opportunity to 
     migrate was infeasible to all those who resided in Malatya.
       As soon as my grandfather's friend was replaced as the 
     military general of Malatya, my grandfather was arrested and 
     taken into custody. He had been imprisoned for two weeks when 
     the chief of police gave him an ultimatum--abandon your 
     religion or go under the sword. My grandfather refused to 
     renounce his religion therefore he was murdered instantly. 
     (This story was conveyed to my father by those who were 
     jailed with my grandfather, they had converted in order to 
     save their lives).
       Having been one of the more successful residents of 
     Malatya, my grandfather had an apprentice whom he regarded 
     both as a friend and apprentice. It was his way of giving 
     back to the community, which until the Genocide had offered 
     him and his family the utmost comfort and good. This friend 
     was aware of the wealth that was kept in my grandfather's 
     home. He came to see if assistance was needed, as he was not 
     a Turkish-Armenian, but rather a Turk by heritage. To his 
     surprise he found that my grandfather had already been taken 
     into custody, and my grandmother was in hiding in the 
     basement of the family home, she had escaped the mandatory 
     deportation of Malatya. He assured them that he would be back 
     once he can figure out how he could best be of service. 
     Comforted by his statement, the family continued to stay in 
     hiding as they eagerly awaited his return.
       Unfortunately, the loyalty of my grandfather's apprentice 
     was not to be trusted. Upon leaving my father's family home, 
     he went to the local police and informed them that my 
     grandmother, along with the children were in hiding and had 
     escaped the mandatory deportation. He provided the local 
     police with the proper address and location, as well as the 
     background information pertaining to my family.
       My grandmother had taken precautions and had told my father 
     along with the eldest of the daughters where the family 
     fortune was hidden. Having heard and seen the horrific 
     experience of mass murder and deportation my grandmother was 
     well aware that her family would not stay intact. In the 
     likely chance that she would be taken into arrest, she had 
     hoped that the large amount of family savings would either 
     help the children sustain themselves or buy their safety.
       Soon thereafter, my grandmother was taken into exile. My 
     father recalls her carrying a child as the police forced her 
     out of the home; leaving the remaining children orphaned. My 
     grandmother was never to be heard from again. The fate of my 
     grandmother and her infant remains unknown. That was the last 
     they saw or heard of their mother. The children were not sent 
     into exile. They continued to hide in the basement of the 
     family home.
       After my grandmother was taken away my grandfather's 
     apprentice rushed to the house. Seeing the children, 
     distraught, alone and in tears he assured them that he would 
     find their mother and return her to safety. He left only to 
     return in a couple of days. We concluded that the two-day 
     absence would assure that no other family member was present 
     to care for the children. Upon his return, he lied to the 
     children and told them that he was able to find their mother 
     that she was well, but in need of their help. He told the 
     children that their mother asked that they gather the hidden 
     family wealth, in order to bail her out of jail. Their 
     father's apprentice would take care of the procedure. The 
     eldest child my aunt, obliged in trust and showed my 
     grandfather's apprentice where the wealth was hidden. The 
     family wealth amounted to two barrels of 20,000 gold coins. 
     The average yearly salary in Malatya at the time of the 
     Armenian Genocide was two gold coins--the salary of 10,000 
     Turkish workers. As the children eagerly awaited their 
     mother's return, my grandfather's apprentice enjoyed the 
     sudden lavishness of wealth. Out of immense guilt, my aunt, 
     the eldest child of Nazareth DerTavitian became severely ill. 
     She died at the age of 15.
       A year after the murder of my grandfather and grandmother, 
     the Turkish police came to the family home and took my 
     father, his two brothers and his sister into government 
     headquarters. They demanded that they convert to Islam or 
     their fate would resemble that of their parents. My father, 
     now being the eldest spoke for the entire family. He decided 
     that the safety of his brothers and sister was of the utmost 
     importance. They all converted to Islam and circumcised in 
     accordance to Muslim tradition. They now held new identities, 
     a new religion and new names. My father Kevork became Bakeer. 
     They continued to live in Malatya in hopes of regaining the 
     ownership of their father's land. They thought that that 
     hopeful day had come when Mustafa Kemal Ataturk ratified a 
     law in which whoever held the certificate to the land on 
     which they resided could claim ownership of that land. My 
     father was able to find the necessary certificates to the 
     family home and took them to the provincial government of 
     Malatya. To my father's devastation they would not allow him 
     to have ownership of his land, because he himself was not 
     Nazaret Der Tavitian. By statue, the lands could not be 
     claimed by the living children of the deceased. Under this 
     new law my father along with his siblings was left homeless. 
     They would either live on the streets of Malatya or leave 
     Turkey and start a new life in Aleppo, a safe haven for 
     Armenian refugees. Their obstacles were many. In addition to 
     having limited amount of resources, a law of conversion 
     hindered the arduous road ahead. Converted persons were not 
     allowed to leave Turkey; therefore they had to risk their 
     physical safety by escaping out of the country. The family 
     was separated in order to secure a safe departure. Riding on 
     mules they individually reached Aleppo, around 1924. They 
     were reunited in the refugee camps of Aleppo.
       In 1959, when I was barely 16 years old, the sister of a 
     dear friend of my father's came to visit her brother from 
     Malatya. I, along with my parents went to welcome her. There, 
     I overheard her recall to my father that his father's three 
     story home was still standing and had been converted into an 
     orphanage. The elaborate Damascene hand woven wooden front 
     door, which was the mark of the DerTavitian household, was 
     still standing.
       This story, which I just relayed to you, is but one story 
     in the devastating events of the Armenian genocide. The price 
     of which we continue to pay. My father passed 34 years ago. 
     He led an incredibly difficult life. The events of 1915 
     continued to haunt him. He was unable to surrender the 
     thoughts, emotions and images that followed him throughout 
     his life. I believe that if my father was alive today, his 
     one desire would be to assure that no other peoples or nation 
     suffer under the same fate that he had seen and experienced. 
     I hope that this testimony will play a small, yet significant 
     part of our most basic human quest, that of human rights.
       I thank you for taking on this endeavor. Through your 
     actions, you assure that your character is great. For you not 
     only honor and love justice, but rather, work towards its 
     fulfillment.

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