By Seta Kebranian-Melkonian

Similar to any nostalgic Diaspora Armenian, I press the keys on my computer, then my TV remote control, and I’m flooded with Armenian news. Occasionally, the news finds me with links through friends. Often, directly or indirectly Monte’s name appears in random pieces of information. And every time my heart pounds wondering what would be referred to Monte this time.

I understand. For the Armenian people Monte has become part of the folklore.  And the word folklore assumes creation. However, as long as I can, I try to insert reality in the fairy tale. Monte’s reality, pure and extraordinary, does not need much creation.

Soon after arriving in Armenia, Monte wanted to legally marry for one main concern. If things changed and he was expelled against his will to his country of birth, America, I would follow him as his legal wife. He knew well that without that piece of paper, we would not have any rights as a couple. And America is prominent when it comes to such “punishments.”

One sunny day Monte and I, hand in hand, proceeded from Mashdotz Prospect toward Koryun street. We turned left on Terian Avenue, passed the Polytechnic Institute, and took the stairs to the Youth Palace for a shortcut. Climbing the unending white stairs, we headed to the right side of the building where ZAKS, the state registration office was.

I placed my Lebanese passport in front of the employee. Then we explained that Monte’s passport was lost. Monte opened the worn-out creases of his Xeroxed birth certificate. The white English letters on the black background meant nothing for this office. The woman kindly explained, that the document was not sufficient to marry us. We turned around disappointed.

By then Monte had already met the government officials of the time. He had discussed military preparations with Defense Minister Vazgen Sarkissian. He knew the Attorney General Henrik Khachatryan. Between our old and new friends, there was no lack of possible mediators.

As we descended the stairs of the Youth Palace, Monte was silent. I knew he was sad about this outcome. “What do you think? Is it worth asking Henrik Khachatryan or Vazgen to interfere?”  I said to create some hope. “I feel bad asking personal favors, but it seems we don’t have any other option,” he said. However, he never asked for that favor and we remained “legally” unmarried.

Numerous times in his letters Monte had written about our wedding. We knew it would be a great opportunity to see our families. I chose Geghart monastery. Monte examined our Aleppo made wedding bands. “These are too thin. Surely it would not survive on my finger. And I never want to take my ring off,” he said. We took the rings to a local goldsmith who prepared thicker bands and inscribed our names in each other’s ring. When I arrived in America after Monte’s martyrdom, both rings were on my finger.  “Where is your engagement ring?” asked a relative. Only later did I learn, that similar to American movies I had seen, marriage proposals were made with diamond rings. I chuckled imagining Monte offering a diamond ring to me.

It’s easier to speak about the things Monte did not own or do, rather than the things he did. For example, at the time of his death there was no property under Monte’s name. He lived in my room at the Yerevan State University Nairi dormitories, since I was a graduate student. He did not have a bank account, had never received a salary or a prize before or after his death. He didn’t even have a personal firearm or a military card. Apart from the above-mentioned Xeroxed birth certificate, Monte did not have any identity document. Our marriage was registered only by church. Since Monte very much wanted the latter two documents, after his death I requested that his wish be granted. President Levon Ter Petrossyan approved. An old university friend, Vahe Gabrielyan, who at the time worked at the president’s office, fulfilled that task. Within few hours our marriage was officially registered at the ZAKS with a back date. I was given a Soviet Armenian passport with Monte’s real name in it.

Monte and I lived off of my university stipend and the salary I got teaching at the University of Michigan Summer Program.  For every occasion our friends and family sent us monetary gifts. We saved five thousand dollars to buy a residence. During one of my visits to Martuni Monte told me, “I was informed that I will get a salary. Until now I have given that money to the needy here. How’s our financial situation? Do we need it?”

For Monte and me our priorities were very clear. As long as we had food, clothing and shelter, we didn’t need money. Perhaps subconsciously we were at ease that during an emergency our families and friends would extend us a helping hand. Nevertheless, money was not part of our goals.

These unending anecdotes are a small window to Monte’s essence, to his neglect toward material belongings. A more important evaluation though is what a non-sympathetic soldier had told to a dormitory friend of mine: “It doesn’t matter what I think about him, but I can be sure of one thing. If the person fighting behind me is Monte, I would not worry about my back.”

The two letters bellow written from Martuni summarize many of Monte’s characteristics. However, his most important achievement is earning the trust of his people. And for that one does not need to do much. They must only be who they are.

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23.3.92

My dear Seta,

It has been such a long time since I’ve been able to contact you in any way. Finally I have a couple of minutes to write. It is a real war situation here and the “internal” disturbances are so frequent, that I literally don’t even have a spare second to scratch my head. And I miss you so-so-so much….

Ok, let me get to practical issues. I received your last short letter, as well as the longer one that came before that, and a half Armenian half English one before that one. Also, Vazgen explained to me certain things. I want you to understand that if necessary (and if they need assistance) I would like you to explain to the people in charge that the very disciplined persons, who didn’t have any fault, should be allowed to come here. That is, Hrayr. Edo Baghdassaryan are decent.

It would be great if you could come for a short while. You would see what’s happening here, what the people’s mentality is, etc. I try to do a fair job, but for that exact reason I will have enemies. That’s OK. I will work.

Here we have few AKM and Carbine bullets, but we need rocket launchers the most (KnBT, Desheka, Shilka). Sevag needs to speed up. If he doesn’t come up with something very soon we should take all our money back. That’s enough. I’ve lost my trust. Also, we need 83mm and 120mm mortars.

When you come (or at least send with someone else) bring the following:

1. Scotch tape
2. Toilet paper
3. Raisins (Mardo and Antranig know from where)
4. Medications ( “ “   “)
5. Glue
6. Plain paper (writing paper but not too many)

OK, I need to end here since there’s no time left. Give my regards to all, Mardo, Manoog…Oh, it’s impossible to list all the names, to everyone. What happened to Lucig, Apo? We should do something for him.

I love you so, so much.

Your Monte

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9.4.92

My dear Seta,

I was very happy to receive your last letter (dated 20.3.92 and 5.4.92). But once again, I have very little time to respond. Work is very heavy and unending. I miss you so much. Also, thank you so much for the stuff you sent.

Our comrades saw the situation here and I hope they will be able to explain a little to you. I am sending my firearm with Mardo so he can give it to Vazgen, at least that would be cleared.

I try to finish my work here fast, but “fast” would mean at least two more months. Therefore, I request that you come. Yes. Come. At least for a week or two. I can’t go there. You come. I’m impatiently waiting.

Thousand kisses

Your Monte