![](/static/articles/11/58/l-XNbwdV1PyJ.jpg)
Photographer Smells Fear During Travels to Remaining Armenians of Western Armenia
Max Sivaslian is a French-Armenian photographer who spent two years in Artsakh documenting the war. During the past 17 years he's been living in Armenia and working as a freelance photo-journalist.
He and his wife, Laurence Ritter, have been to western Armenia ten times, driving across the width and breadth of the land.
Max has taken thousands of photos while in the land of his forefathers and 60 are now on display in the hall of the Armenian Union of Painters in Yerevan. The title of the exhibition is "We Once Lived There".
The objective behind all those trips, however, isn't the current exhibition but to collect information on Armenians who still live on those lands some 100 years after the Genocide.
His wife has written a book on the subject, also focusing on Islamized Armenians. 50 of Max's photos make the book come alive even more. The book is scheduled to come out in French this September.
"We are also guilty for what happened to us. The Genocide didn't start in 1915 but much earlier. In large part we let it happen, through a sense of fear. I believe our biggest enemy id\s our fear. The more we feared the bigger the blow. And the blow was final. By the time 1915 came we were in no position to resist," says Max.
There are few Armenians living on those lands today and the number of Christian Armenians makes up a tiny portion of that. Some still keep the Armenian dialect, like in Sassoon, but that too is disappearing.
"There is no culture. These people don't know the history. All the Armenian names have been changed into Turkish or Kurdish. They have Armenian blood flowing in their veins but that's all," says Max.
The photos in Max's current exhibition are mostly those of the local Kurds and Turks now living on those lands.
The photographer says those lands have been given to Turkey on a temporary basis but regards any return a "fantasy".
"Please tell me what Armenians will go live there amidst all those Kurds. Yes, we lived there for 3,000 years but that's all over now. My roots are from those lands, not present-day Armenia, but it's all over now."
Max does confess that it's difficult to predict what will happen to Turkey in the coming years. If it weakens, Armenia must think about what it might do.
Many Armenians living in western Armenia don't even realize they are Armenians. Many Kurdicized Armenians don't even tell their kids about their Armenian roots. The children find out later by accident. "
Oftentimes they are called "giavour" in school. They come home for some explanation. The parents either tell them the truth or advise them to forget about it."
Many of his Armenian subjects in western Armenia were afraid to talk to Max, especially if there was a Turk or Kurd translator. Max and his wife just couldn't enter a village in the interior somewhere and ask "Who is an Armenian here?" Nobody would confess such a thing.
This is why Max first introduced himself to Armenians in Istanbul with ties to the villages in the east. These Armenians relayed the word back home to their relatives and friends to expect a visit from the photographer.
Many Armenians from the interior relocated to Istanbul in the 1970s and 1980s.
One and a half years ago Max, his wife, a translator and a Kurdish reporter visited the home of an Armenian still living in Malatya.
"There was a smell of fear in that house. The father told us that all was well and that historians should be involved in the Genocide issue not average folk. That same sense of fear exists today," says Max.
The photographer agrees that the small number of Armenians in places like Malatya have good reason to be afraid.
"Four years ago the Turks savagely killed a few Christians in Malatya. There are a few remaining Christian Armenians in Malatya and Grain. The numbers of extremist Turks is tremendous. In Mush, however, those remaining Armenians area bit better off in this regard.
Max Sivaslian says he's planning to return to western Armenia and that something inside pulls him.
"It's my homeland. That's where we are from," he says.
No Armenian values left in Armenia
Max Sivaslian is now thinking of leaving Armenia after all these years. He's displeased with the government and the authorities in charge. He says he sees aggression everyday and has grown tired of it.
"I don't see our Armenian values at play. For example, you get respect if you have money. If you don't, they tell you to get lost," Max says.
Max says he'd stay on in Armenia if he saw evidence of a desire on the part of the government to change things and get the country on the right track. The photographer says there is corruption in France as well, but that it's not as widespread as in Armenia
Max told me about a particularly painful experience he had this oast winter.
He had gone to Abovyan where the businessman turned MP Gagik Tsarukyan is building a church. Max wanted to photograph the stone sculptors at work. It would make a nice story for the magazine.
The workers told Max he'd have to get the OK from Tsarukyan before taking any photos. Max found out that Tsarukyan visited the church site every morning to check on its progress.
Max visited the church a few mornings before citing Tsarukyan's car. He approached to get the MP's permission to photograph. Tsarukyan's bodyguards told him to "get lost" in a threatening tone. But Max was able to get his request across to Tsarukyan.
Max says that while Tsarukyan allowed him to photograph, the MP said nothing to his bodyguards about their behaviour or tone of voice. Max was amazed because the church isn't a military site but a place of worship whose doors should be open to all.
Last month Max's wife left for a job in the African country of Burundi. Max and their young daughter will most likely join her this summer.
Comments (5)
Write a comment