An Emotional Breakdown - Harput, Türkiye

June 1

I wasn't ready emotionally to feel what I did in this part of the trip and that's where this story gets interesting. Grandma was born in Turkey just prior to the Armenians being extirpated from the country. My dad's side of the family was said to be of Armenian descent so, naturally, I believed that all my relatives were obviously from Armenia. I could not have been MORE wrong. My grandparents and my great grandparents from my dad's side of the family were all from south-central Turkey and lived in and around the towns of Harput and the cities of Elazig and Malatya. It was quite the surprise to me to wander down the family ancestry tree and learn that they were from cities in Turkey and not from anywhere near modern day Armenia. Of course I needed to visit the towns they were from and that's where we headed to next on our tour of the country.

About to board a bus for a 12 hour overnight trip to the birthplace of my grandma

The 12 hour overnight bus ride from Ankara to Elazig was miserably uncomfortable. The taxi driver from the bus terminal to the hotel asked why we did not fly. I didn't quite say it but my grandmother became an orphan here after watching both her parents killed, mother speared and father shot and dumped in a pit of bodies. She marched with an orphanage as an exile across the Syrian desert to then come by ship and be adopted in the USA. This is why I came here by ship and by bus and train, to experience the miles she traveled and to at least have something of a hint of the hardships she endured. 

I'll never fully grasp it all because in comparison we relatively had luxury in our travels but at least I can know the true distances involved and imagine those same miles last night by bus but as many weeks of marching through an unforgiving desert, 5 years old, without parents and then thousands of miles by ship to America. I'm not on vacation, I am here to witness, experience and learn.  Experiencing a little bit of discomfort along the way helps make this feel all the more real.

The city of Elazig is vibrant, warm and full of hardworking and, from what I have seen, honest people for the most part. Ataturk did a great job in recreating a prosperous new Turkey in the face of a collapsing Ottoman Empire.

Hardworking people in a Hardworking city

Yufka Bakery.  We got a personalized tour

The owner agreed to our photographing these hard working bakers.  The bread is cooked on these hot black domes and cooks the bread in minutes!

Old Armenian Church.  No mention of it on the signage and it appears to have been left to decay.  Forgotten peoples who were forced to leave their homes.

Interior of the Armenian Church remains.

My grandmother was born just a few miles away in the town of Harput. She became an orphan at age 5 watching her mom speared to death and her father taken away, shot in the head and buried in a pit of bodies outside of town. The town was destroyed and churches were burned to the ground.  It was told by stories that the Armenians often would be gathered into a church, locked inside and then burned alive as the building was set in fire. 

Without parents, my five year old orphaned grandmother was watched over by Turkish sheep herders and lived with them for some time. Often sleeping in barns and with sheep, she eventually was given up to a Red Cross orphanage that eventually came into this area. 

With the Red Cross and many other orphaned children, she marched out of Turkey and across the dessert into Syria and eventually Allepo where she continued to live parentless in an orphanage. Eventually, she was adopted by my great grandparents who had escaped Turkey just prior to the carnage.

It is very sad a story indeed because the Turkish people in the village and the Armenian people got along well together I am told.  Sometimes government's have other designs however.

After spending a day exploring the vibrant city, we took a trip by mini-bus the 5 kilometers or so up a steep mountain road to the village of Harput to see for ourselves the town.

Harput Castle towers over the village and the valley below.  The castle was built by the Urartu Kingdom in the 8th century BC.^[6] It came under Persian domination in the 6th century BC. Between the 4th century BC and the 11th century AD, the castle was under Armenian (Armenian: Խարպերդի Վանք), Roman, Sassanid, Byzantine Empire, Abbasid, and again Byzantine Empire rule until the end of the 11th century.^[7]

The commanding view over Elazig and the dammed Euphrates river (upper left)

These are the hills my grandmother likely saw as a child

My grandmother spoke of sleeping out with the sheep and staying with the herders as an orphan.  We found an actual sheep herder in Elazig

These are the Harput Woods that my grandmother talked of.  I spent some time sitting under a pine tree considering the circle of a long journey across generations to come back here.

The people here don't even know any longer yet any of this happened. It has not only been erased in the history books but from the collective memories of everyone. When I say I see this happening again with the marginalized populations, you can see why.the USA at present frightens me. I am also having some seriously emotional moments as well over this place.  It is cathartic and reflective both of the past and what our collective futures hold when histories are forgotten and repeat.