[Congressional Record Volume 158, Number 80 (Thursday, May 31, 2012)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E924-E925]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                         THE ARMENIAN GENOCIDE

                                 ______
                                 

                          HON. ADAM B. SCHIFF

                             of california

                    in the house of representatives

                         Thursday, May 31, 2012

  Mr. SCHIFF. Mr. 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:

                          My Grandmother Araxi

       This story is dedicated to my children so they may always 
     remember their family heritage. It is in memory of my 
     grandfather and grandmother, Garabed and Araxi Kechbouladian. 
     This is my way to honor them and to immortalize my 
     grandmother's legacy.
       My ``Nana,'' Araxi, was born in Zeitoun, in 1914, around 
     the time of the Armenian Genocide. My ``Dede,'' Garabed, was 
     born there as well. He died in the 1960's and my Nana lived 
     with us in Germany until the day she died. One of my most 
     vivid memories of her is her singing a particular song. She 
     used to sing this song often. It is called ``Yeraz'' which 
     means dream. I remember the first verse word for word. It 
     goes like this, ``Yes lehsezy me anoush zain, eem zerahzadz 
     mor mod ehr. Paylez neshouil ouraghoutyan. Payz absos vor 
     yeraz ehr.'' It means, ``I heard a sweet voice. It was my 
     mother's. It was a gleam of joy. But, unfortunately, it was 
     just a dream.'' My grandmother would sing it when she was 
     cooking or doing chores. She would cry every time she sang 
     this song. She had never known her mother and her father. 
     Their names were Neshan and Vartouhy Shanlian.
       Nobody knows what really happened to my great grandparents. 
     All my grandmother would tell is that she was about a year 
     old, perhaps a little older, when she was taken to a German 
     orphanage in Lebanon, located somewhere between the cities of 
     Sour and Saida. She thought that it was called Ghazir. She 
     had heard many stories growing up and she believed that her 
     parents were either killed during the massacre, in 1915, or 
     died during the deportation. If the Armenians were not 
     massacred, they were ordered by the Turks to leave their 
     lands and march through the deserts towards Syria. Those 
     marches were called death marches because many perished of 
     dehydration, starvation, and exhaustion. If the march did not 
     kill them, they were going to be killed eventually. This must 
     have been my great grandparents' fate. As for my grandmother, 
     she must have been kept by other Armenians. Eventually, she 
     was given to the Germans who were gathering up orphans at 
     that time.
       My great grandparents had seven children. Only four of them 
     survived, my grandmother being the youngest one. Their names 
     were Flora, Maritza, Bedros, Stepan, Hagop, Avedis, and my 
     grandmother Araxi. The siblings surviving the Genocide were 
     Maritza, Avedis, and Hagop. However, my grandmother grew up 
     separated from them in the German-run orphanage. She was 
     found by Badvely Aharonian, a pastor and family friend of the 
     Shanlians. Badvely Aharonian's mission was to seek out and 
     reunite children and family members who were displaced during 
     the deportation. My grandmother was about 11-years-old when 
     the Badvely found her. The only way he recognized my ``Nana'' 
     was by the name plate that was hung on my then infant 
     grandmother's neck displaying her full name. This was 
     recorded in the orphanage and was the only proof of her 
     family lineage. She was taken to Cypress where she was 
     reunited with her sister Maritza and her brother Avedis. Her 
     brother Hagop had immigrated to France by then and she never 
     got to meet him. It is not known how her brothers, Bedros and 
     Stepan, died. However, the story of her sister, Flora, and 
     the way she died, was well-known and talked about many 
     decades later in the Zeitounzy community.
       When my grandmother had her first child, a daughter, her 
     mother-in-law requested that

[[Page E925]]

     she be named Flora, after my grandmother's courageous sister. 
     Flora was very beautiful people told my grandmother. She must 
     have been the oldest, or one of the older ones, as she was 
     married to a doctor and had a child by the time of the 
     massacre. Her husband was arrested and most probably killed 
     soon after. The Turks asked her to convert so that she could 
     become a wife to one of them. They would have spared her and 
     her child if she agreed. My great aunt Flora knew that she 
     would be raped, tortured, and killed if she did not accept 
     their offer. However, she chose not to give in. They must 
     have been marching through a mountainous area. She somehow 
     got away and jumped off a cliff into her death. Some said 
     that she jumped with her child. When I was born, my 
     grandmother requested that my parents name me Flora to 
     continue her sister's legacy.
       My grandmother was a strong woman. She continued to live in 
     Cypress with her sister, Maritza, up to the age of 19. Then 
     she moved to Syria where she got married and bore eight 
     children, two of whom died in their childhood. She was 
     widowed too soon and worked hard for her family. Eventually, 
     most of her children immigrated to France and Germany. She 
     moved to Germany with my father and mother. She lived with us 
     for many years and died in our house at the age of 81. Now 
     she rests in peace in the land of the people who took her in 
     as an infant.
       It was a privilege to grow up with my grandmother. She was 
     amazing. She was able to sing the German Anthem word for word 
     up to the day she died. She had learned it at the orphanage 
     from her ``Mutter.'' She started her day with prayer and 
     ended her day in prayer. She instilled in me great values 
     such as faith and courage. I learned many things from my 
     grandmother, Araxi.
       I am grateful to my Nana for naming me after her courageous 
     sister, Flora. I am grateful that she told me all these 
     stories so that I would know about my heritage and never 
     forget. I am grateful for her many prayers and blessings.
       Here I am grandma, telling your story to the whole world! I 
     love you, your granddaughter, Flora

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