Rendahl: Understanding Genocide

I knew little of Armenia’s history when I moved there in May 1997. Those were the days before I relished research, before I could draw parallels between historical events and different cultures, before I understood how young and inexperienced my own country really was. Were I a more diligent person, perhaps I would have read more in advance and begun to form impressions. Instead, I got on a plane with little more than the special-ordered small English-Armenian dictionary that I couldn’t read.

For as far back as I can recall, I’ve been a student of people. Books provide more words and more depth, but people often provide more context. There are few things I enjoy more than hearing someone’s perspective about most anything. And so my education on Armenia began, listening to countless tellings and retellings of the stories that define the Armenian world today.

After arriving, my head was swamped with information and ideas. It was a foreign language to me, but the culture itself was just as filled with newness. Suddenly, I was learning words in Armenian that I couldn’t recall ever having used or heard so frequently in English: Corruption, bribes, shame, diaspora, genocide. I struggled to relate these concepts to my short American life. I’d never had a mortgage, worried about health insurance, held a full-time job, been close friends with a soldier, or even signed a letter of protest to a legislator. How could I possibly understand what follows 600 years of repression by foreign rulers?

The public dialogue about genocide was indeed new to me. While I’d learned about the Holocaust, I had not thought enough about how this kind of systematic elimination of people continued to occur. What I also did not yet understand was how something so truly wicked and evil could impact subsequent generations—both those who remained in their homeland and those who survived by fleeing.

It was when I first heard songs like “Giligia” and “Akh, Vaspurakan” that I began to understand the depth of the pain. I’d studied music since I was a child, but had played predominantly Western classical music. Armenian music had a mournful quality achieved through instrumentation and intervals unfamiliar to my ear.

The words of the songs, too, expressed the meaning of genocide in terms that shook me to my core. From “Giligia”: “Yertam nnjel zim Giligia, ashkhar vor indz yetur arev (I wish to fall asleep in my Giligia, the country that gave me the sun).

I come from the prairies of North America, where land means something to people, where the nights are quiet and the skies are vast. That people could be separated from that life-giving soil and air had a profound impact on me.

From “Akh, Vaspurakan”: “Nerkvetsan dashter hayu aryunov” (The fields were colored with Armenian blood). The image of blood-drenched fields reminded me of the 120 years that my family has filled our fields with sweat and tears while battling stone, drought, and disease in pursuit of an honest living that puts food on people’s tables. Later in the song come the words “Odarn sirum e mez ibrev geri” (The odar loves to consider us their prisoners). And the notion of people imposing their power over others—especially those with less might and more to lose—grated against my sense of pride and independence.

Those notes and those words, ironically, brought genocide to life for me. Described in academic terms, it was yet another tragic part of history to which I could barely relate. Expressed in song, it was an assault on my senses and a reminder of the common human experience. That realization was more powerful when I grew close to so many Armenians whose ancestors had escaped the genocide and made their homes elsewhere.

Seeing the tears fall down their faces at the Dzidzernagapert Genocide Memorial in Yerevan. Hearing stories of heroism and sacrifice like this. Watching them recommit and return to their homeland to carry forward their traditions of greatness against all odds.

To say that I can now comprehend what it means to be a genocide survivor would be a statement of disproportionate ignorance. But to say that I understand it more because of what Armenians have taught me would be a good start.

Kristi Rendahl

Kristi Rendahl

Kristi Rendahl is associate professor and director of the nonprofit leadership program at Minnesota State University, Mankato. Prior to starting with MSU in 2017, she worked for over 20 years with nongovernmental organizations on several continents, including living in Armenia from 1997-2002. She speaks Armenian and Spanish.
Kristi Rendahl

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5 Comments

  1. Kristi, a pleasure to read this article.  Thank you for your tender and open heart toward Armenia.  You point out the power of music to communicate things  that mere words fail to convey.  I agree with you.  I hope your words inspire musicians to use this power and share our story

  2. Kristi jan.. I am soooo proud of you that I can’t express it with words.. Your article brought tears to my eyes especially when you spoke of the song “Giligia”… Music tells a story and expresses feelings that you would never achieve just by mere words…Guess you don’t have to be Armenian to understand what the singer is trying to portray.. one great example of that was when Sharon Stone came to tears as she listened “Dley Aman” sung by Flora Martirossyan along with Sharon’s brother Michael Stone….

    http://armeniansworld.com/?p=4099

    Music is powerful in general.. however music for Armenians is more powerful….We as people endured so much pain to express with just words..  music is one tool to channel all the emotions and feelings……

    Kristi jan, your understanding of our history, our pain and our joys is profound.. having the opportunity to live in Armenia was also a major step you accepted… you have to be one special individual to take that chance…BUT most of all you have to have an open mind, open heart and willing to learn and understand..you my dear Kristi achieved all that….GOD BLESS YOU with ALL HIS GLORY.. I hope your insights are being shared with your friends and collegues….You are one voice that we can add to ours and I thank God for people like you..

    We love you dearly and looking forward to your next article…

    Gayane

  3. Kristi: We thank you for your inspiring words on Armenia. My parents both came from different villages in Historic Armenia, now under Turkish rule. They both lost their parents and their Children since they were both married. America has yet to recognize this terrible tragedy as a Genocide due to pressure by Turkey.  Also, Turkey is using five Jewish Organizations in this country not to pass resolutions on the Armenian Genocide. Shame on them since their people also went thru a genocide during World War II.

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