[Congressional Record Volume 156, Number 133 (Wednesday, September 29, 2010)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Page E1817]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




        A GENOCIDE SURVIVOR STORY: KEVORK ``GEORGE'' HAKALMAZIAN

                                 ______
                                 

                          HON. ADAM B. SCHIFF

                             of california

                    in the house of representatives

                     Wednesday, September 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 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 (story submitted by Scott Tejerian):

       My grandfather, Kevork ``George'' Hakalmazian, lost his 
     family in the genocide somewhere around age seven. His father 
     was forced to give my grandpa's sister in marriage to the 
     Turkish mayor of their town, Peri. My grandpa never saw his 
     sister again. Shortly after, when my Grandpa's father, 
     Sarkis, was reading the Bible one afternoon in front of their 
     house, Turkish soldiers took him and my grandpa's mother, 
     Oghapar, away. My grandfather never saw them again. My 
     grandpa and the other children of the village, including his 
     older brother Hagop, were rounded up by the soldiers and 
     taken to the nearby river. At the river they were separated 
     by size. My grandpa's nephew, the son of his eldest brother 
     who was already living in the USA, was separated in the group 
     of smaller children away from my grandpa and his brother, 
     Hagop. The smaller children were thrown into the river to 
     drown, except my grandpa's nephew knew how to swim. When the 
     Turkish soldiers saw him swimming, they shot him dead in the 
     water. For the next few years, my grandpa and Hagop were 
     forced to work for a Turkish farm owner. They were his 
     slaves. Eventually, my grandpa and Hagop were rescued by an 
     older cousin, Marderos, who helped them escape to an 
     orphanage in Lebanon. It was there that their eldest brother, 
     Martin, who was living in Chicago at the time, found them and 
     sent for them to come to America. My grandfather arrived in 
     Ellis Island on July 4, 1923. He didn't know his birthday, so 
     for every year after that his birthday was July 4th.

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