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Los Angeles Times Valley Edition | Glendale News-Press | May 29
The 'suffering gene' at work
BY PATRICK AZADIAN
As an Armenian, it seems almost every task has a certain element of suffering attached to it. My theory is that 3,000 years of oppression in the hands of foreign invaders has introduced a "suffering gene" to the Armenian makeup. It makes us suffer even on a simple trip to Trader Joe's. Moreover, it is not uncommon that in certain situations we fabricate an oppressor, and willingly fill the role of the oppressed.
One note of caution on this column to the ultranationalists: The following contains plenty of embellishments and nonscientific generalizations; put on your light-hearted hat.
On the matter of crossing the street
Some Armenian-American senior citizens, who would not be able to fast-walk to save their lives, will attempt to cross Brand Boulevard at undesignated areas during rush hours. My only explanation is that the "suffering gene" is the main culprit for this phenomenon. It would be too convenient to go to the crosswalk, press the walk button, wait for the green light, and peacefully cross the street. You can often spot the "oppressed" in the middle of the street, waving their arms in a frantic zigzag formation, while swearing at the oncoming cars: "Eshee dzak, ches tesnoom eendz?" ("Son of a mule, can't you see me?")
In this case, the driver has filled the role of one oppressor, and if everything goes as expected, a second oppressor in the shape of a policeman will pop up to write a citation. The senior will later go home and inform the grandchildren about the unjust world we live in, and insist that there is a conspiracy against Armenians, spearheaded, of course, by the Turkish government.
On matters of love
Let me just begin by saying that there is no actual way of verbally expressing deep, romantic love to your partner in the Armenian language. The sentence "Seeroom em kez," roughly translates into "I like you [a lot]." It can as easily be used for one's girlfriend, dog or car. "Seeroom em shooneekees," (I like my little doggie), or "Seeroom em medz, sev BeeEmVeh" (I like big, black BMWs) uses the same verb. Then how does an Armenian manifest unconditional love? Well, only if suffering and torment are part of the equation.
Let's look at an excerpt from "In My Sky at Twilight" by the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda:
"In my sky at twilight you are a cloud
and your form and color are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live . . .
You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's wind,
and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depths of my eyes,
your plunder stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.
You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins."
Blissful, carefree and pleasant; there is little evidence of suffering. Vahan Terian, the early 20th century Armenian poet, expresses his version of love in "You are Far":
"Your light is spread around and above me,
In the infinite world and in my meek soul."
So far, so good. He continues:
"I do not know the way to your distant land;
Perhaps I have created you myself,
Have deified you, that I may pray to you,
Have ordered you, that you may reign above me.
It is pleasing to be a slave to your will,
To consider your evil as goodness,
To go against your sword with bared breast
And to kiss that death-dealing hand!"
The lover (an individual or a vision) is in the role of the oppressor by "reigning" over Vahan as well as "enslaving" him with her "death-dealing hand."
So, if you are in love with an Armenian, how do you know it is real when she claims "Seeroom em kez"? First, you reply by asking: "Shooneekee pes?" (Do you love me like a dog?) If the answer is negative, then you proceed to the second test: "Seerovus tanjoom em kez?" (Do I torment you with my love?) If her response is affirmative, then you can make that decisive phone call to reserve the church hall.
A word on raising children
Let's say you are a mother, and your child has just been in an insignificant home accident. A natural reaction would be to ask "Are you OK?" An Armenian mother may add a small salutation to the beginning of the sentence: "Koranam, are you OK?" ("I would prefer to go blind than see you hurt, are you OK?") Pain is apparent but unnecessary.
So how do we excise the "suffering gene"? I am not sure it is possible to undo centuries of conditioning. If there was an equivalent of a therapist for a whole nation, I would recommend a couple of introductory sessions to my tribe.
One thing is sure: Suffering and anguish should only be reserved for special occasions.
Copyright 2004 Glendale News Press
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