Valya moved to Hadrut from Moscow three years ago. It was in Moscow that she fell in love with Vova, an Armenian. They returned to Hadrut to start a family and put down roots. “It was difficult in the beginning. None of us had any work. The most important thing, however, was that Hadrut really appealed to me.”
Valya recounts, “Everywhere I’d go people would turn around and say - there goes that Russian. I felt a bit uncomfortable at first but I understood that I was still an outsider in that society. I would bake my pastries and knock on my neighbors’ doors. They were a bit taken aback but later invited me in.” Soon, the neighbors started inviting Valya over for tea.

Mrs. Alvard, one of Valya’s neighbors, says that, “It’s true. In the beginning I used to think - hey look at this girl and how she won over Vova, but then I realized that it was Vova who got the better of Valya since he had much more to lose. I got to like Valya. One winter’s day I awoke to see how Valya, that fragile and thin girl, wearing Ruben’s galoshes, was carrying water home from the spring. I knew then that she’d fit in fine with us.”

The most difficult part for Valya was getting on good terms with his new mother-in-law, Mrs. Rima. “She was a teacher in her time and still maintained a strict streak in her. She didn’t like the way I cleaned the floor or cooked the meals.” Valya recounts.

It didn’t take long for Mrs. Rima to give in. “I always pictured Vova with an Armenian girl. I even had a list of prospective brides in my head. I realized that I had to get used to the situation or otherwise my son would pack his bags and leave for Russia.”

Valya also came to terms with her new daily life but she grew weary of it. One day she decided to return to her home in Russia.

“The day of my departure was the most heartbreaking. All the neighbors had gathered and even Mrs. Rima was in tears.” recalls Valya.

Vova saw her off. “I just couldn’t go with her. I couldn’t imagine leaving my parents behind. I don’t know why but I remained very calm. It really didn’t cross my mind that I was losing Valya. I just thought to myself that she was returning.” Valya remembers.

“I felt a bit lost in Moscow. It’s amazing but I remembered every moment of my life. Not because those events were unique but because some kind of internal link had been created. I would always recollect how I’d look at the mountains from our balcony. I felt very free and liberated at those times; it was like being in paradise. Perhaps, in my former life, I lived in Hadrut. During the six months I was back in Moscow I felt like a stranger. I decided to return to Hadrut.” Valya recounts. She returned and doesn’t feel sorry that she did, even though some called her crazy for doing so.

Artak, who lives in Kiev, has no plans to return home. He left for Kiev four years ago when his mother fell seriously ill and money was needed for her health care. One year later his mother, Mrs. Maral, passed away. At the time Artak hadn’t saved up enough to return home and bid her farewell.

Another year had to pass before he was able to return home. He had been an electrician and they even found work for him before returning. But the job only lasted three months since he decided to return to Kiev. His sister Mariam recalls, “I begged him not to go, not to leave us. We were six kids in the family. My brother Arsen was killed in the war. I had lost one brother and now it seemed that I would be losing Artak as well.”

Artak promised to visit Hadrut once a year to see his sister and brothers and to temporarily satisfy the longing in his heart for the place. When I telephoned him to ask if he had changed his mind he answered, “Dear Shushan, Hadrut is like a swamp for me. It’s senseless to return to a place where lives, like my mother’s, get sunk.” After the death of her husband Mrs. Maral began to work in an army laundry to make ends meet and take care of the children. It  was in the laundry that she got sick with tuberculosis.

Armen also thinks along the same lines of Artak. He was one of the best loved residents of Hadrut. He would always win first prize in all the local competitions. Armen went to Moscow to study and remained there. Given that he was an only child his parents felt quite distraught. His mother, Mrs. Arev, recounts that, “I was forced to fool him into thinking that I was sick and that I wanted to see him. To lie was unacceptable but it worked. He returned.” Armen has been back in Hadrut for a year now. His father has opened a store and has bought a car so that his son has something to occupy his time and get the notion of returning to Moscow out of his head; but to no avail.

“I’m young but who thinks about young people here? Here a young man has only one obligation - to ask for a girl’s hand and bring her home.” states Armen. Mrs. Arev is at a loss as to what to do this time around so her son doesn’t take off for Moscow. “I’m really concerned for him. In Russia they’re killing an Armenian every day. How can I remain calm? Perhaps I indeed will die and my son will choose to remain here so as to not leave his father alone.”